pairing :: sim jaeyun x fem!reader
warnings :: eventual smut, excessive fluff, praise kink, pathetic jake, groping, size diff, non idol au, established relationship, switch!jake (?), degradation, breeding kink, slight somno, sub!jake, belly bulge, dry humping, big dick jake, oral sex
word count :: 2k
a/n :: @ puppyjake honestly love you to death kid you’re a good kid honestly ALSO this is not proofread pls ignore any errors👀
puppy!jake who follows you around without even realizing he’s doing it. you get up to grab a glass of water, and somehow thirty seconds later he’s wandered into the kitchen too, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. if you point it out, he’ll blink at you in confusion before looking around like he’s only just noticed where he ended up. “hm… i guess i did.” he’s not even trying to so blatantly trail after you, he just likes being wherever you are, and his feet seem to know that before his brain does :3
puppy!jake who somehow always ends up touching you whenever you’re together. maybe it’s his knee resting against yours, his arm draped lazily behind your shoulders, or his head slowly finding its way into your lap while you’re watching something. he doesn’t even think about it anymore; being close to you feels as natural as breathing. if you shift away to grab something, he’ll purposely scoot impossibly closer again a minute later
puppy!jake who absolutely lights up whenever you praise him. even something like just telling him he did a good job, has him trying (and failing) to hide the boyish grin spreading across his face. he’ll duck his head, scratch the back of his neck, mumble an embarrassed “thanks,” as his cheeks flush profusely :p
puppy!jake who greets you like you’ve been gone for months every single time you come home, even if you’ve literally just left an hour ago to buy groceries. the second he hears your keys in the door, he’s already standing up with the biggest smile plastered onto his face, bounding up to shamelessly grope at you while using the excuse that he just wants to see what you’ve bought home :3
puppy!jake who has theee cutest habit of nudging your hand whenever he wants attention while you’re busy. if you’re reading, scrolling on your phone or working on your laptop, you’ll suddenly feel his shoulder bump yours or his forehead gently press against your arm. if you absentmindedly scratch his hair without looking, he’ll just smile to himself, (almost) completely satisfied. if you don’t notice… you can expect an exaggerated sigh, closely followed by another, firmer nudge, nudges that won’t let up until he’s satisfied with the attention you give him
puppy!jake who gets genuinely excited over your interests as if they’re his own. mention a movie, a hobby or a random fact you like once, and he’s bringing it up days later because he spent time learning about it. not because he suddenly became obsessed with it himself, but because seeing you talk so passionately about something makes him happy. literally nothing makes him smile more than asking you a question and watching your face light up while you explain to him the nuances in whatever it is that’s got you so excited
puppy!jake who loves more than anything to be intertwined with you as much as he possibly can be. he frequently pulls you into his lap, arms tight around your middle, head bent down to nuzzle into your neck as he gently kisses down your pulse point. if not, somehow half his body will end up draped over your legs or your lap, despite your protests about how heavy he is. he’ll mumble “you’re just extra comfortable,” into your bare stomach as he toys with the hem of your (his) shirt, head in your lap as his lips graze your torso :p
puppy!jake who gets sad whenever you’re sad. he’s not always sure what the perfect thing to say is, and sometimes he’ll stumble over his words trying to make you feel better. so instead, he opts to simply stay. he’ll sit beside you in silence, rubbing slow circles over your back, holding your hand if you’ll let him, and quietly reminding you that he isn’t going anywhere until you’re okay, even if it takes hours :(
puppy!jake who sends voice notes instead of texts whenever he can because he likes the idea of you hearing his voice. they usually start with whatever he actually wanted to tell you before turning into him laughing halfway through, getting distracted by something he saw, or remembering another story. some of them end with an absent-minded, “okay… i miss you. bye,” before he hangs up, realising he’s forgotten to tell you that you’re out of milk, the whole reason he’d opted to send a voice note in the first place :3
puppy!jake who gets distracted halfway through telling stories because he’s more interested in making you smile than finishing the point. he’ll start explaining something that happened during work, somehow end up doing impressions of everyone involved, and then completely lose his train of thought because you let out a soft giggle. “forgot what i was talking about…” he’ll mumble under his breath, face flushed as you coo at him :p
puppy!jake who completely melts whenever you scratch the back of his neck or run fingers through his thick brown hair. you can literally feel his shoulders relaxing beneath your hand as he leans further into you without thinking. after a few minutes his eyes start drooping, his replies become quieter, and eventually he’s asleep before the movie is even halfway over, still holding tightly onto your hand :(
puppy!jake who naturally drifts closer whenever you’re walking together until your shoulders brush. eventually your hands bump together, and he’ll glance at you for a second before shyly hooking his fingers around yours, still feeling bashful after being with you for years. after that, he absentmindedly swings your joined hands as you walk, smiling to himself without even noticing he’s doing it. of course, you notice though, and reach up to plant a chaste kiss to his flushed cheek :p
puppy!jake who smiles into every kiss, even non-sexual ones. every single time you pull away, he’s already looking at you with this ridiculously fond expression, cheeks just a little pink. sometimes he’ll let out the tiniest laugh, almost like he still can’t believe this is real
puppy!jake who becomes even clingier whenever he’s exhausted. if you try getting out of bed before him, he’ll instinctively wrap both arms around your waist and pull you back down without even opening his eyes. “five more minutes…” he’ll mumble into your shoulder, voice all sleepy and rough, tightening his hold just enough to make escaping impossible, even though he knows you’d never want to escape :3
let’s go to hell😳
aka nsfw under div
puppy!jake who desperately ruts against the bed while he’s eating you out, sometimes just thrusting into the air if there’s nothing for him to hump. he gets impossibly harder when you point it out, interrupting his frantic making out with your pussy by tugging on his hair, cooing at your needy mutt, warning him that if he carries on, you might not give him the chance to fuck you (which he knows is a lie), but he still does his very best to force his hips still :(
puppy!jake who has the leakiest cock :( he drips precum so much that there’s almost always a cute little wet patch on the front of his boxers when you peel off his sweatpants. you can’t help but coo at your leaky boy, prompting his face to flush an even deeper shade of red, a sharp whine slipping out of him before he can stop it
puppy!jake who has theeeee most sensitive tip. like of all time. all you have to do is brush your thumb across it and he’s reeling, a drop of precum now running over your fist wrapped tight around his length. he lets out little hisses when you gently kitten-lick his slit, tears brewing already at the stimulation
puppy!jake who lives in a perpetual state of horniness, doing his best to pretend he’s not hard when you’ve only just ran your fingers through his hair. so pathetic, he thinks to himself, brows furrowed, as he wraps his arms tighter around your middle and tries to focus on the movie you’ve put on, hoping you don’t notice anything poking you :(
puppy!jake who occasionally tries to taunt you back, but finds out that he really cannot tease you for too long at all because at the end of the day the only thing he wants is for his pretty baby to feel good… he feels the need to make up for his feeble attempts at teasing, and he does so by going down on you for hours, although he doesn’t really consider this to be an apology because he enjoys it just as much as you do :3
puppy!jake who has (almost) never ending stamina. he’ll only stop when he knows you can’t take anymore, and even then, as you drift off, you can still feel him semi-hard against your back. you’d told him early on in your relationship that he could use you to take care of his issue, but he’d never really gotten used to that. instead, he typically opted to gently rut against you for a while, stifling his whimpers as he groped your tits from behind, tears pooling in his eyes as he came in his pants, his face buried in your neck. he sniffled and adjusted himself, deciding he’d just clean himself up in the morning, n maybe tell you about it just so he could hear you call him your needy pup
puppy!jake who didn’t initially realise his size, rutting into you desperately without prep. to be fair, you didn’t expect him to be so fucking huge, but he was already inside now, grinding into you as he finally bottomed out. you grasped desperately at his face from beneath him, grinning at his watery eyes before telling him to slow down, to let you get used to him. you saw the guilt immediately forming in his eyes but kissed it away, guiding his lips to yours as you joined in a sloppy kiss, a mixture of his and your’s spit now running down your chin as you smirked through it, nipping at his bottom lip to let him know he could continue :3
puppy!jake who fucks you faster and harder when he’s close, mewling at the sight of your fucked out expression mirroring his. he plants his big hands on either side of your waist as he lets out a sharp whine at the sight of your belly bulge, imprint of his dick visible as he bottomed out inside you, instinctively pressing down on it, making you both moan in unison. “m so fucking deep, baby,” he groans at the sight, trailing one hand down to your clit to trace circles on it as he picks up his pace, because he can’t cum unless you do first
puppy!jake who just cums so much. fucking it all back into you in the name of filling you up how you like it, whimpering as you drag him down to your mouth to whisper how good of a dad he’d be. “would you like that jakey? ‘can give you your own little pups,” he lets out a strangled little sob at the thought :(
puppy!jake who’s tongue lolls out when he’s fucking you good, first creeping out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrates, to involuntarily fully sticking out, eyes screwed shut as his hands tighten on your hips
puppy!jake, who at the start of your relationship, completely short circuits when you jokingly call him a good boy. he’ll freeze mid-sentence, blink a few times, then splutter out the rest of whatever he was chatting about, his voice noticeably breaking as he tries his absolute hardest to appear unbothered (you’ve used it against him every day since)
── synopsis: everyone on campus knows Heeseung’s rules — no commitments, no second chances, and no girl stays long enough to matter. As basketball captain he collects hearts like trophies and leaves them broken behind him without a second thought. You watch him from far away, knowing you should stay away, but you don't just want to be another name on his list. You want him to choose you and see only you. The problem is you're completely inexperienced, a virgin in every sense, while the girls around him know exactly how to move, how to flirt, and how to keep him hooked. So you make a plan: practice with other guys, learn the skills you're missing, and completely reinvent yourself to finally make Heeseung notice you — and choose you over everyone else.
warnings: explicit sexual content (mdni), popping cherry, fingering, oral (f. & m. receiving), deepthroat, panty gag, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, missionary, doggy style, against the wall, overstimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, spitting on pussy, praise kink, light degradation, dirty talk, begging, edging, possessiveness, manhandling, public/risky sex (library + locker room), risk of getting caught, use of pet name (babe, doll, angel, baby, slut, good girl), mostly dom!members with a bit of dom!reader.
wc: 18k ┆ a/n: I know some of you are waiting for part 2 of teacher's pet, but I was just so excited to write this one that I decided to work on it first (the idea actually came to me while listening to drake's 'practice') this ended up being way longer than I expected, but anyway... I hope you guys like it. happy reading! (btw if you guys want to request any fics, my asks are open!)
Heeseung is the sun around which the entire campus orbits.
He’s the captain of the basketball team, the big star whose name echoes through the packed arena during every game. With his lean yet athletic build, dark hair that falls over his sweaty forehead after a match, and that lazy half-smile that screams trouble while charming every girl in sight, he moves like he’s always being watched — and he is. Every head turns when he walks by, the crowd in the hallways parting like the sea for him and his teammates. He loves the attention.
Everyone knows the stories about Heeseung. He doesn’t do relationships — he rotates. A new girl every week, sometimes every day if he’s in the mood. They’re often seen leaving his apartment late at night, or early in the morning if he feels like letting them stay over, hair messy and wearing his team jacket like a trophy.
He usually doesn't appear with them in public, but it doesn't take long for the chosen girl to start gossiping in the hallways about how she's being fucked by him. That doesn’t last long though, because once the thrill fades he ignores them completely, never answering their messages once the weekend is over. "Let’s just have fun," he says, and the girls always agree, secretly believing they’ll be the one to change him.
You’ve been watching him from afar for months, studying the way he laughs too loudly at parties with his arm around whatever girl he’s with at the moment, the way his hand rests on her lower back as he guides her through the crowd, and how his eyes scan the room like he’s already searching for the next target while the current one is still pressed against him. It should disgust you — the casual way he uses people, the trail of broken hearts he leaves behind without remorse. But it doesn’t disgust you. It feeds you.
Deep down, in that secret place where you allow yourself to be completely honest, you want to be one of them. Not just another weekly girl — you want to be the one who breaks the pattern, the one so unforgettable, so incredible in bed and out of it, that Heeseung, the campus player, finally chooses you for good.
The problem is you have no idea how to make that happen.
You’re a virgin, completely untouched. The closest you’ve ever gotten to intimacy was an awkward, too-long hug with your best friend Jake after a tough week of exams. Approaching Heeseung as you are now — inexperienced, nervous, and clumsy — would never work.
"He likes confident girls, experienced ones who know how to dominate and be dominated in equal measure, because he doesn’t waste time teaching the basics. He expects you to already know how to please him." That’s what you heard from one of his teammates.
So after watching him leave the court with yet another girl on his arm, you make a decision.
You’re going to practice.
You’re going to transform yourself into the perfect girl for him — experienced enough to impress him, confident enough to stand out, and irresistible enough that when he finally notices you, he won’t be able to let you go.
────────
You stand outside Jake’s dorm room long enough for your legs to start aching. Your best friend’s room has always been your safe haven — the perfect spot for late-night study sessions, movie marathons, and listening to him ramble excitedly about sci-fi. Jake is kind, a bit nerdy in the best way possible, like a golden retriever with brown hair, a sweet smile, and glasses.
With a deep breath, you knock on the door.
Jake opens it almost immediately and breaks into a wide smile the moment he sees you. "Hey, what took you so long? Come in— wait, are you okay? You look tense."
You step inside and sit on the edge of his bed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. Jake drops into his desk chair and pulls it closer so he’s facing you directly, his knees almost brushing against yours. "Jake… I need to talk to you about something kind of crazy, embarrassing, and probably really stupid."
He tilts his head, curiosity sparkling behind his glasses. "You know you can tell me anything. What’s going on?"
You tell him everything — how you’ve been watching Heeseung for months, how every time you see him with someone new, something deep in your chest twists, not exactly with jealousy, but with desire. You share the rumors you’ve heard about how he likes girls who know what they’re doing, girls who can match his intensity. Finally, you admit that you want to be the one he chooses — not just for a week, not for a fling, but for good.
"But I’m a virgin, Jake," you whisper, your cheeks burning. "I’ve never even… I don’t know what I’m doing. So if I tried to approach him like this, he’d probably laugh."
Jake’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t interrupt.
"So I’ve decided… I’m going to practice. I’m going to get experience so that when I finally have my chance with Heeseung, I’ll be good enough that he won’t want anyone else."
Silence stretches between you as Jake stares at you for a long moment. He pushes his glasses up, his expression soft — not mocking, not disgusted. Just… Jake. "Wow. That’s… a lot. Heeseung, huh? I mean, I get it, but you’re really willing to do all that for him?"
Biting your lip, you nod. "I know it sounds crazy, but I can’t stop thinking about it. And… I was hoping you’d help me with the first part."
Your voice drops until it’s almost inaudible. "I want you to be my first. I want to lose my virginity with you. You’re my best friend and I trust you. I know you’ll be gentle, you won’t laugh at me or tell anyone. Please, Jake?"
His cheeks flush pink and for a second it looks like he might say no. "You… you want me to what? Oh my God. I don’t even know what to say."
He lets out a nervous laugh, a mix of surprise and something he’s always kept hidden. "I’ve never thought about you like that before or… okay, maybe I have, a little. But you’re serious? This is all for Heeseung?"
"Yes, but right now it’s about learning with someone safe, someone who cares. And that someone is you."
Jake stays quiet for a moment while he thinks, then reaches out and takes your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. "Okay… if we’re really going to do this, I want it to be right for you. Not just jumping in headfirst." His thumb keeps tracing slow, soft circles on the back of your hand. "You’ve never done any of this before, right? Not even… by yourself?"
You swallow hard, staring at your intertwined fingers, and admit softly, "No… I mean, I tried rubbing against my pillow once and it felt good, I think? But I got scared and stopped. I don’t know what I’m doing, Jake. That’s why I need you to help me learn."
Jake nods, adjusting his glasses — a nervous habit — with flushed cheeks, but his voice stays as gentle and patient as always. "That makes sense. But before anyone else touches you, you should get to know your own body first. What feels good, what you like. It’ll make everything easier later… for him and for you."
He hesitates for a second, then adds with a small reassuring smile, "Do you trust me enough to try this now? With me here?"
Your heart races with a mix of embarrassment and curiosity. "Yes, I trust you. Just… tell me what to do, please."
Jake stands up slowly and sits beside you on the bed. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your temple, then to your cheek. "Start by getting comfortable. Lie back, and maybe take off your sweater if you want to and feel okay with it."
You do as he says, pulling off your sweater and setting it aside so you’re left in just your tank top and jeans. "Good," he murmurs. "Now touch yourself under your clothes first, over your stomach, along your thighs… feel how your body reacts."
You slide your hand beneath the thin fabric of your tank top. Your fingers graze the soft skin of your belly, then move higher, gently caressing one of your breasts. It feels strange doing this while he watches, but his gaze isn’t hungry or demanding — it’s warm and encouraging, like he’s looking at something precious. When your fingertips brush your nipple, a small sigh escapes you.
"Right there. That’s good. Circle slowly and squeeze just a little."
As he speaks, his own hand drifts down to the front of his sweatpants and then he starts touching himself gently over the fabric, not even trying to hide it. Knowing he’s getting hard just from watching you makes your breath hitch.
Following his instruction, you circle and lightly pinch your nipple, feeling a warm sensation build low in your belly. "Jake, it feels so good…"
"Tell me," he encourages, his hand moving in slow strokes that match the rhythm of your breathing. "Does it make you wet between your legs?"
"Yes," you sigh.
"Keep going, slide your other hand into your jeans and touch yourself over your panties if you’re not ready for more yet."
With your free hand you obey, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping inside. The fabric of your panties is already damp when you press your fingers against yourself and rub lightly, drawing a soft whimper from your throat.
Both of your breathing grows heavier with every second. Jake pushes his sweatpants and boxers down just enough to free himself, stroking slowly while he watches every movement of your fingers.
"Fuck, that’s beautiful," he breathes, the words slipping out like he can’t hold them back. "Rub your clit. Find the spot that feels best."
You circle your clit, experimenting with pressure and rhythm, rolling your hips when you finally discover the perfect way to touch yourself. Jake’s eyes stay locked on your hand while his own speeds up, his thumb brushing over the head of his cock with every stroke.
"Inside your panties now," his voice still gentle but strained. "Feel how wet you are. Explore your body, learn what it likes so you can show someone exactly what you need."
You push your panties aside and slide a finger along your slick folds. "Slide a finger inside, babe," he says and when you do, a moan escapes your lips — it’s tight, but not uncomfortable. Jake groans with the sight, his hand moving faster on himself.
"Add another finger and curl them a little. Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so good, babe." His praise makes you bolder, so you start pumping your fingers slowly, rubbing your clit with your thumb at the same time, while your free hand keeps playing with your breast, pinching harder as the pleasure rises.
"You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell by the way you’re breathing. Let it happen. Imagine how good it’ll feel when I’m inside you." His words push you over the edge.
Moaning Jake’s name, completely lost in the overwhelming sensation, your body tenses and your thighs tremble uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you. Waves of heat pulse around your fingers, deeper and stronger than you ever imagined.
"Fuck, don’t do this to me." His hand strokes faster until he groans and comes too, spilling over his fingers with a shaky breath.
For a moment, the room falls quiet except for your shared breathing. Jake leans in and presses a soft kiss to your shoulder, his glasses tilting slightly. "Hey… you still with me? How are you feeling after that? Overwhelmed?"
You shake your head and let out a small giggle. "I’m good. Really good, actually." Reaching up, you gently fix his glasses and whisper, "Thank you for being so patient with me, Jake. I know this is probably weird for you too."
He smiles, and it makes you smile back naturally. "It’s not weird. At least not with you. Honestly, seeing you like that… it was beautiful. You’re beautiful." He leans in and kisses your forehead, then your cheek, giving you time to calm down while his hand rests on your hip and his thumb draws slow circles on your skin. "If you want to keep going, I’m right here."
You bite your lip, the mix of nerves and curiosity warms your body all over again. This is supposed to be practice — each new sensation is another skill you’re learning — but right now, with him, it feels like something more.
"I want more," you admit, cheeks burning. "Can you… use your mouth on me? I’ve heard it feels really good, but I don’t know what to expect."
Jake’s eyes widen for half a second. "Yeah, I’d love to do that for you." He moves carefully on the bed, helping you adjust the pillows behind your head so you’re comfortable. "Just relax and tell me what feels good, okay? If anything is too much or not enough, say so. Promise?"
"Promise." You extend your pinky toward him and he does the same, linking them together to seal the promise.
He starts with soft kisses on the inside of your knee, then higher up your thigh. Every touch of his lips sends shivers across your skin. "Your legs are already shaking," he murmurs with a low chuckle against your thigh. "That’s so cute."
When his mouth finally reaches your center, it’s feather-light at first — just his lips brushing against your folds — but it’s enough to make you draw in a sharp breath and grip the sheets tightly.
Then his warm tongue drags upward in one long, torturous lick from your entrance all the way to your clit. The feeling is wet, hot, and incredibly intimate, the texture of his tongue adds a new layer of friction that makes your hips jerk involuntarily.
"My God, Jake…" The words slip out before you can stop them.
"Good?" he asks, pulling back just enough for you to see his glistening lips as he looks up at you.
"Yes… really good. Do that again, please."
With more confidence this time, he explores every inch of you — licking along your folds, circling your clit, then moving down to taste your entrance. The wet sounds of him pleasuring you only heighten the arousal building in your belly.
Jake hums in satisfaction as he finds the rhythm you like best, reading it from your moans. "You taste incredible… so hot and wet."
You reach down and thread your fingers through his soft hair. "Right there, when you suck on my clit, it feels so good."
He listens immediately, sealing his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves and applying gentle suction while his tongue flicks against it, making the pleasure intensify, stronger than before.
The smooth glide of his tongue, the occasional careful graze of his teeth, and the way he alternates between lavishing attention on your clit and licking down to dip inside you make heat spread through your core — it radiates outward until even your fingertips feel warm. You grow even wetter, and Jake groans in appreciation, licking up every drop like he can’t get enough.
"Jake, I think I’m getting close again," you gasp, your voice breaking into a loud moan as he sucks harder on your clit. Your hips move against his face instinctively, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he doubles down with his tongue. This orgasm builds differently — deeper, more overwhelming — and when it crashes over you, it hits with a full-body shudder.
You cry out his name, fingers tightening in his hair as waves of pleasure pulse through your center. Jake keeps licking you through it all, drawing out every tremor until you’re panting and oversensitive.
He finally lifts his head, wiping his mouth and chin with the back of his hand before leaning over you again. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes shine behind his glasses, and a proud little smile plays on his lips. "You okay? That looked like it felt really good."
You laugh breathlessly. "It was incredible… I didn’t know I could feel so sensitive down there."
Jake chuckles softly. "Good. That’s kind of the point of all this practice, right? Learning what you like." His hand slides over your body again, stopping just above your mound as his fingers trace lazy patterns across your skin. "Are you sure you want me to take your virginity? Your body’s already experienced so much tonight. Maybe you need a break."
You shake your head, caressing his face. "I don’t need a break. I just want to feel your cock inside me, please."
One of his hands drifts lower until his fingers reach your wet entrance, circling it slowly. "I need to make sure you’re ready for me. I don’t want to hurt you. Relax and breathe out for me."
You do as he says, and he slowly presses two fingers inside you.
His longer fingers create a different sensation. The stretch borders on discomfort at first, making your walls clench tightly around the intrusion. "Ah— it’s tight," you whisper, gripping his shoulder. "It burns a little."
Jake freezes immediately. "Want me to stop? We can wait."
"No! Keep going. I want to get used to it."
He nods and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re doing so well… so warm and snug around my fingers. What if I curl them just a little?" He demonstrates, stroking your inner walls gently until he brushes against a spongy spot that sends sparks shooting up your spine.
"Oh!" Your eyes widen. "Right there… my God, that feels so good."
"I found your g-spot," he says, clearly proud of himself. He keeps the movements shallow and slow, pumping his fingers in and out while his thumb draws gentle circles over your clit. The initial burning fades, turning into something hotter, slicker, and far more pleasurable.
"Add another one, Jake," you say after a few minutes, voice breathless. "I think I can take it."
Jake carefully slides a third finger in, the pressure increases and your walls flutter as they adjust to the stretch. Every curl of his fingers against that perfect spot sends waves of pleasure through your entire body, while his thumb on your clit keeps the arousal building higher.
"Talk to me, babe," he says, eyes fixed on your face. "How does it feel now? Too much?"
"It’s full… stretching me," you moan, your hips starting to move in time with his hand. "But it’s turning into something really good. Faster on my clit— yes, like that. God, Jake, your fingers are so deep."
He picks up the pace a little, thrusting more firmly and creating an overwhelming sensation in the best way possible. The pleasure keeps intensifying until your breathing comes in short gasps and your thighs tremble uncontrollably. "I’m getting close again. Please don’t stop."
Jake leans down to kiss your stomach, murmuring encouragement. "Come on, come on my fingers. Let go for me, babe."
You moan loudly, back arching as the orgasm hits you harder than the ones before. A deep wave crashes through you, making your inner walls clench rhythmically around his fingers. Jake keeps pumping slowly and carefully until the spasms ease, then gently pulls his fingers out and brings them to his mouth. "Your taste is addictive."
Smiling you reach up to brush a messy strand of hair from his forehead. "Jake… I want to go all the way. I want to feel you inside me, please."
Jake’s breath catches, then he sits up properly and reaches into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a condom.
"You actually have these," you say with a light teasing note in your voice.
He looks at you with a shy smile as he opens the packet and rolls the condom down his length. "Hey, Heeseung isn’t the only one on campus who has sex, you know? A guy can be prepared even if he’s not out at every party." Jake hovers over you, supporting his weight on his elbows so he doesn’t crush you. "You look so beautiful like this," he whispers, leaning closer and gazing at your lips.
"Can I?" When you nod, he captures your mouth in a slow, deep kiss filled with desire. His lips move to your cheek, your jaw, and then trail softly down the side of your neck, leaving a wet path that makes you shiver. He takes his time, giving attention to every inch of skin he can reach with his mouth and fingers. Only when both of you are breathing heavier does he settle between your legs and position himself.
"Breathe with me, okay? Slow and easy." You nod, inhaling as he begins to push inside.
The initial pressure is intense — a wide, stretching fullness that makes your breath hitch. Your walls stretch around his thickness in an overwhelming way and your body tenses as he sinks into you inch by inch, giving you time to adjust. "Oh my God…"
Jake stops immediately. "Hey, hey… look at me," he says, his voice full of concern. He kisses you softly on the lips, then your nose and forehead. "Is it too much? We can wait. I hate the idea of hurting you, even for a second."
You shake your head and take a deep breath, trying to ease the discomfort. "It’s a lot… really full and there’s some burning, but I want this."
To distract you from the stretch and help your body relax around him, he kisses you again. It works — the pain slowly turns into pressure, and then into something hotter and more intimate. "Okay, you can move a little more now."
Jake slides forward inch by inch until he’s fully inside you — every part of him is wrapped tightly in your heat, making you feel so connected, so completely filled, with a pleasant throbbing where your bodies meet.
"God… you feel incredible," he breathes, staying still for a moment while buried deep inside you. He covers you with more kisses. "So warm and tight around me. Tell me how you feel, babe."
"Full," you sigh. "So deep… it’s starting to feel really good."
Smiling against your skin, he begins rocking his hips in small, gentle movements. Each shallow thrust glides along your inner walls, brushing that sensitive spot and sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body. Jake keeps his eyes on yours, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort.
You wrap your legs around him, pulling him closer. "More kisses," you whisper softly, and he gives them freely — deep, passionate kisses that match the slow rhythm of his hips. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers beside your head as he sinks a little deeper and a little firmer. The pleasure builds gradually, a warm wave spreading from your center outward.
"You’re doing so well," he praises between kisses, his voice full of affection. "Look at you… my best friend, letting me do this. You feel perfect, so hot and slick around my cock." His free hand caresses your breast through your tank top, his thumb brushing your nipple in time with his movements, pulling more moans from you.
"Faster… just a little," you ask, voice breaking. "I want to feel more."
Jake obeys, finding a slow but steady rhythm that lets every thrust fill you completely, the head of his cock brushing that sweet spot over and over again. "Does this feel good for you too?" you ask between moans, wanting to make sure he’s enjoying it.
"God, yes," he groans. "You’re squeezing me so tight, but right now it’s all about you. I want you to come like this if you can."
You roll your hips to meet his thrusts, learning the rhythm and experimenting with how it feels to clench around him. Jake’s glasses are completely fogged up and slipping down his nose, he pauses just long enough to take them off and set them aside, then kisses you deeply as he resumes his movements.
"I’m getting there," you moan against his mouth. "Please don’t stop, Jake."
"I’ve got you." He shifts slightly, sliding one hand between your bodies to rub gentle circles over your clit. The extra stimulation pushes you right over the edge. Your walls flutter and clench hard around his cock as the orgasm crashes through you. You moan loudly, nails digging into his back while your body pulses around him.
Jake keeps thrusting softly through your climax, murmuring praises. "That’s it… so good. You’re incredible." Only when you start to come down does he let himself go. His hips snap a few more times before he buries himself deep and comes with a low, shaky groan, filling the condom.
For a long moment afterward, he stays inside you while both of you catch your breath. Then he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and cleans you both with a warm cloth from the bathroom. "You okay?" he asks, his voice soft and full of concern. "No pain? I tried to be as gentle as possible."
You snuggle into the sheets, feeling a pleasant soreness between your legs and a deep sense of satisfaction. "I’m perfect. A little sore, but in a good way. You made my first time really special, Jake. You’re the best friend I could ask for."
The next morning, you wake up in his bed. The ache between your legs reminds you of everything — the careful way he touched you, the gentle thrusts, the tender kisses. It had all been perfect for your first time.
But as you slip out of bed carefully so you don’t wake him, a realization settles in your mind. It wasn’t enough. Not for what you really want.
Heeseung isn’t gentle. From the rumors, girls get pinned against walls, left breathless and marked. He likes control, intensity, rough hands. Jake would never give you that, even if you begged. He’s your best friend who worries about every little sound you make. He would never push your limits the way you suspect Heeseung would.
You also need to practice that side — the rougher kind of sex that leaves you deliciously sore, the kind that teaches you how to take and give back. You can’t show up to Heeseung soft and inexperienced if you want to stand out, if you want him to crave you for more than one night.
So you leave Jake a note on his desk. "Thank you for last night. Let’s talk soon," and head back to your dorm with a new determination.
────────
That weekend, the hockey team is throwing a big party at their off-campus house — an event that always draws a different crowd from the basketball scene. There’s no explosive feud between the teams, just a quiet rivalry and enough tension that basketball players rarely show up at hockey parties and vice versa. It’s perfect. No chance of running into Heeseung or his circle, and you need that space to level up without any complications.
You take extra time getting ready because you want to be noticed. You choose a short black dress that hugs your curves, the hem riding high on your thighs. It’s simple but dangerous — low neckline, thin straps, the kind of outfit that makes you feel powerful when you look in the mirror. You add a bit more makeup than usual, nothing too dramatic, and slip into heels that make your legs look longer.
The hockey house is already packed when you arrive. Hockey players in their varsity jackets, girls in tight dresses, and red solo cups everywhere. You grab a drink and wander through the crowd, heart racing with anticipation.
That’s when you see him.
Sunghoon, the captain of the hockey team, is standing near the kitchen island, leaning against the counter like he owns the place — and he does. He has a cold, almost untouchable aura that makes people shiver when he walks by. His teammates laugh around him, but he only offers a slight, distant smile, like he’s above it all.
Your eyes meet across the room and he doesn’t look away. Instead, his gaze slowly travels down your body, taking in the dress you chose so carefully, before returning to your face. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips — not warm like Jake’s, but something sharper, more predatory. It sends a shiver down your spine.
You don’t look away either. After all, that’s exactly why you came.
He pushes off the counter and makes his way through the crowd toward you. The suffocating tension hits you the second he stops right in front of you, like all the air has been sucked out of the room. "You don’t usually come to our parties," he says, his voice low as he tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s already halfway to solving. "Or are you from the basketball crowd, doll?"
You take a sip of your drink to steady yourself. "Maybe I was waiting for the right night… Plus, hockey parties have a certain reputation."
A faint smile tugs at his lips as he steps a little closer, invading your space enough to make your pulse race. "Reputation for what, exactly?" He’s so close now that you can smell his cologne — something fresh and expensive that makes your head spin.
You shrug, trying to look calm. "Good music, strong drinks… You’re Sunghoon, right? The captain of the team. I’ve heard a lot about you." The words come out bolder than you expected, but they hit something in him and his gaze darkens.
He raises a thick eyebrow and crosses his arms over his chest, making his impressively attractive biceps stand out. "I hope they’re good things."
You smile slightly. "Depends on who you ask. Some say you’re intense. Others say you’re… hard to keep up with."
Sunghoon studies you like he’s deciding something. The air between you grows heavier, and you can feel the pull — the way his eyes drop to your mouth, then lower, before sliding back up. "And what do you think? Do you think you could keep up?"
The question makes your breath hitch. "I think it depends," you reply, taking a small step closer, letting the tension build until it feels almost unbearable. "Are you offering to find out?"
He leans in even closer, his lips hovering near your ear so only you can hear him, his warm breath brushing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. "Careful. Talking like that might get you more than you bargained for."
You turn your head just enough that your cheeks nearly touch. "Maybe that’s exactly what I’m looking for."
His hand settles on your lower back, firm and guiding, pulling you subtly closer. "Come upstairs with me," he says, his voice steady as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again. "There’s a room up there. Quieter. We can… talk more."
This is it — the next step.
You nod, letting him guide you through the crowd toward the stairs with his hand still resting on your back as you climb the steps.
The door clicks softly shut behind you, and the room instantly feels much quieter than the chaos downstairs, lit only by the soft glow coming through the open window. Sunghoon leans back against the door without saying a word, simply watching you with a playful smile on his lips.
"So," he begins softly, pushing away from the door and walking toward you, "you showed up at a hockey party dressed like that, with your eyes on the captain. You’re either really brave or really curious. Which one is it?"
"Maybe both."
Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’ve been moving backward. "Bold. I like that, I don’t waste time with girls who don’t know what they want." He towers over you, his presence intense and dominant.
You swallow hard. "I know exactly what I want tonight. Someone who won’t hold back."
He leans in closer, one hand settling on your hip, fingers pressing firmly enough for you to feel his strength. "Careful what you wish for… You look like the type who melts easily, and I think I’d really enjoy finding out."
His gaze drops to your mouth, then returns to your eyes, dark and hungry. Without another word, his lips crash against yours in a deep, overwhelming kiss right from the first second. Sunghoon doesn’t take it slow like Jake — he claims your mouth completely, his tongue sliding against yours with raw intensity while his free hand moves up to caress the back of your neck, tilting your head exactly the way he wants.
You try to match the intensity of his kiss, but it’s overwhelming — he devours every sigh and gasp that escapes you. When he finally pulls back enough for you to breathe, his eyes are darker, his lips slightly swollen. "Not bad," he murmurs, voice rough. "But you can do better, doll."
Before you can respond, he kisses you again, slower this time, pressing his body against yours so you can feel the hard line of his cock straining through his jeans. Your stomach tightens with a mix of nerves and excitement.
"Come here." He takes your hand and guides you away from the wall toward the bed. Sitting on the edge, he pulls you close until you’re straddling his lap, knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as you settle against him.
He pulls you into another deep kiss while one hand slides up your body and the other grips your thigh. You rock lightly in his lap, feeling him grow even harder beneath you, and he lets out a low groan into your mouth. "You’re so fucking hot. I want to see what else that pretty mouth can do." His fingers trace your jaw, thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Get on your knees for me. Show me what that mouth is capable of."
Your heart stutters because his words hit you hard — part excitement, part panic. On your knees. Sucking him. You’ve never given a blowjob before.
You slide slowly off Sunghoon’s lap and drop to your knees, your hands shaking as you reach for the button of his jeans and try to pull down the zipper. Reality crashes over you: you’re on your knees for the hockey team captain, about to give him head with zero experience.
His eyes narrow the moment he notices the tremor in your hands and the hesitation in your movements. A low, cruel, mocking laugh escapes him. "Wait." He reaches down, gripping your chin with two fingers, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "You’ve never done this before, have you?"
Biting your lip, you shake your head. "No… I’ve never done it."
Sunghoon’s expression doesn’t soften with pity. Instead, it sharpens with something darker — satisfaction mixed with pure control. He releases your chin and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, looking down at you like you’re a player who needs to learn the drill.
"Good, I like honesty. So you’re going to listen carefully. I’m not in the mood for guessing games tonight. You want to learn? I’ll teach you, and you follow my instructions. Got it, dol?"
You swallow hard and nod again.
"Words," he commands, cold and firm. "Use your words when I ask you something."
"Yes," you repeat, your voice steadier this time. "I understand."
He gives a small nod of approval. "Good girl. Now unzip me."
You obey, slowly pulling the zipper down. Sunghoon lifts his hips slightly to help you tug his jeans and boxers low enough to free his cock. It springs out, hard and heavy, the tip already glistening with precum.
His hand rests on the back of your neck, not pushing, but guiding. "Look up at me when I’m talking to you. Don’t just stare at it like you’re lost. Wrap your hand around the base and feel the weight."
Your fingers are still trembling as you obey, curling them around his thick length. He feels incredibly warm and heavy in your palm, the skin smooth over steel. You give an experimental squeeze, watching his reaction.
"Yes, just like that," he praises coolly, like he’s directing a teammate on the ice. "Now stroke up and down. Keep a firm grip. That’s it— good. Don’t be shy."
You pump your hand firmly, finding a rhythm that makes Sunghoon’s breathing grow a little deeper, but he keeps complete control, his eyes locked on you the entire time. "Spit on it, get it nice and wet. Good girls make it sloppy."
You gather saliva and let it drip onto the head, using your hand to spread it all over his length. The wet sounds that follow make your face burn even hotter, but the way his cock twitches in your grip sends a shiver through you.
His fingers twist into your hair with enough force for you to feel it, then he pulls you closer to his throbbing length. "Now use your mouth. Start with the head, wrap your lips around it, no teeth. Suck gently while you swirl your tongue."
Your heart races as you wrap your lips around the tip, tasting a man’s cock for the first time — slightly salty, but surprisingly good. Your tongue moves in slow, hesitant circles, trying to find the rhythm you think will feel best for him.
"Eyes up," he orders sharply. "Look at me while you do it. That’s good, but take me deeper now. Relax your throat, don’t force it. Move your head slowly and keep stroking the part you can’t reach."
You open wider and take him deeper. It feels strange at first — the stretch of your jaw, the way he fills your mouth, the occasional gag when you go too far, causing tears to gather at the corners of your eyes.
"Relax your jaw and breathe through your nose. Faster with your tongue on the underside. Use your hand in sync with your mouth."
You follow every instruction carefully, the clear commands making it easier despite your inexperience. The room fills with wet, obscene sounds as your mouth works on him — licking, sucking, and your hand sliding smoothly along his cock. Sunghoon’s thighs tense under your free hand, and his voice grows a little rougher, though still tightly controlled. "Hollow your cheeks more when you pull back. Take me deeper whenever you can, I want to feel the back of your throat."
Pushing yourself, you take him deeper until your nose brushes his stomach, triggering a light gag. You try to hold it, but end up sliding back up, gasping for air. A thick string of saliva connects his cock to your mouth, and his grip tightens in your hair, the slight sting only heightening the moment.
"Not bad for your first time. Now focus on the head again. Suck harder while you move faster. Yeah— just like that. You’re gonna make me come if you keep going."
You throw yourself into it completely, determined to get better so you can do this perfectly for Heeseung one day. Your hand and mouth work together, faster and sloppier now, until Sunghoon’s breathing turns heavier and his abs tighten visibly.
"Fuck— keep your eyes on me," he growls, his voice dropping lower. "I’m close. When I come, you swallow. Every drop. Understand, doll?"
You murmur something unintelligible around him, the vibration drawing a low groan from deep in his throat. His hand guides you with a little more firmness now as his hips begin to rock, meeting your mouth with each movement. His dominance is intoxicating — no endless questions, no overthinking, just clear and commanding direction that pushes you exactly where he wants you.
With one last deep thrust into your mouth and a low groan, he comes. Hot spurts hit the back of your throat as you swallow desperately, trying not to gag while you take everything he gives you, your hand still gently stroking him through it.
Sunghoon holds you there for a few more seconds before finally releasing your hair and letting you pull back. You release his cock with a wet pop, your lips swollen and glistening. He looks down at you with that same cool satisfaction, his thumb brushing a stray string of saliva from your chin. "Clean every inch with your tongue."
You nod and obey, licking him carefully with slow, deliberate strokes of your tongue until he’s completely clean.
"Good," he says, his voice satisfied. "Now come here."
He pulls you up from your knees and back onto his lap, guiding you into a deep kiss that’s slower and less aggressive than the one against the wall, yet still possessive. His tongue slips into your mouth, tasting himself on you, letting out a soft groan against your lips.
"You did well for your first time," he praises quietly as he pulls back, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. "A little messy, but eager. I like that. You look even better with that flushed face after sucking me off, doll."
The praise sends a warm flutter through your stomach, and before you can respond, Sunghoon moves, flipping you onto your back on the bed. He hovers over you, one hand braced beside your head while the other slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher. "You’ve never sucked a cock before… so I’m going to ask. Are you a virgin?"
You shake your head quickly. "No, I’m not."
A flash of relief crosses his face, quickly replaced by a darker, almost predatory smile. "Good. That’s actually perfect. It means I don’t have to be gentle with you." His hand glides along your inner thigh, spreading your legs apart. "I hate holding back."
Two of his long fingers press against your entrance, finding you already soaked from everything that’s happened. He pushes your panties aside and slides them inside you in one smooth motion. His fingers are noticeably longer than Jake’s, reaching places that instantly make your breath hitch.
"Fuck, you’re so tight. You sure you’re not a virgin, doll? Because you’re squeezing me like one." He starts moving right away, no slow buildup, no endless questions about how you feel, just his fingers thrusting in a steady rhythm — faster and deeper — while his thumb rubs firm circles over your clit.
You gasp, arching your back off the bed as his long fingers reach so deep that they stroke that sensitive spot inside you with every thrust. "Sunghoon—" you moan, clutching his shoulders.
"Eyes on me." His free hand pins your wrists above your head while the other moves faster, scissoring his fingers to stretch you further. He watches every reaction on your face, adjusting the intensity until you’re writhing beneath him. "You’re already soaking my hand, doll. Come on, let me feel you come around my fingers."
He adds a third finger, pushing deeper and curling harder against that spot while his thumb presses firmer circles on your clit. The combination is overwhelming — fast, deep strokes that tighten the pleasure in your core until your thighs start trembling around his hand.
"I… oh God…" Your words dissolve into a moan as the orgasm crashes over you. Your walls clench hard around his fingers, pulsing with every wave, but Sunghoon doesn’t slow down, he keeps going until you’re shaking and gasping, hypersensitive and completely spent.
Only then does he pull his fingers out, bringing them to his lips for a quick taste while he looks down at you with dark satisfaction. "You taste so good, doll."
Without wasting another second, he shoves the rest of his pants and boxers down and climbs fully on top of you. "Arms up." You lift them without hesitation and he pulls your dress off, tossing it aside somewhere in the room. Your bra follows immediately, exposing your breasts to the cool air. In the same motion, he squeezes one firmly, his thumb brushing over your nipple until it hardens, then leans down to suck it, teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp.
"These are perfect," he murmurs against your skin before moving to the other. His free hand yanks your panties down your legs in one swift pull, leaving you completely naked beneath him. Sunghoon sits back for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming over your bare body with cool appreciation. "Perfect. You’re perfect, doll."
He positions himself between your spread thighs, one hand gripping your hip while the other guides his cock to your entrance. Only then do you realize there’s no condom. This is going to be the first time you feel someone raw. "Wait, Sunghoon…"
"I’m clean," he says dryly, reading your hesitation perfectly. "We’re good." He doesn’t say anything else, simply pushing forward and sinking the thick head of his cock into you with one precise thrust.
With no latex barrier, you feel every inch of him — hot, hard, and completely bare. The stretch is more intense than it was with Jake, deeper and fuller in a way that makes your walls flutter and clench tightly around him. A low moan escapes you as he sinks even deeper, filling you completely until his hips press flush against yours.
"Fuck, you feel so good," Sunghoon groans, closing his eyes for a brief second before locking his gaze on your face again. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust, starting to move with long, deep strokes that brush every sensitive spot inside you while he watches your every reaction, every gasp, fucking you with firm control.
You grab onto his arms, your nails digging crescent moons into his skin. "Sunghoon… it’s so deep like this." Every thrust knocks the air out of your lungs.
He kisses you hard again, swallowing your moans as his hips snap forward faster, growing more intense. The pleasure feels stronger than your first time because there’s nothing between you, but after a few minutes, Sunghoon suddenly pulls out, leaving you empty and whimpering.
"On your knees. Face down, ass up," he orders. "I need to go deeper. I want to watch this ass bounce while I fuck you stupid."
You get on all fours, feeling incredibly exposed with your ass up and back arched. The vulnerability of this new position you’ve never tried before sends a fresh wave of nerves through you. Sunghoon kneels behind you, his hands spreading your cheeks slightly as he lines himself up again.
He thrusts into you hard, burying himself to the hilt in a single stroke. The new angle lets him go incredibly deeper, the head of his cock pressing against spots you didn’t even know existed. You cry out, fingers clutching the sheets tightly. "Oh my God, it’s so much deeper like this."
Sunghoon groans in satisfaction. "That’s exactly what I wanted." His hands grip your hips firmly as he starts fucking you with more intensity. His thrusts are relentless, hips snapping forward with a force that makes your entire body shake.
One hand slides up your back and fists in your hair, pulling your head back sharply and arching you even more. "Fuck, look at you taking it so well like this."
His other hand comes down hard on your ass, a firm slap that makes the flesh jiggle and sting deliciously, drawing a loud moan from you. He spanks the other cheek, then again, alternating while he keeps pounding into you.
Without a condom, you feel every vein, every ridge, the way his cock stretches and fills you completely with every powerful thrust. "This ass looks even better when it’s moving for me," he says, landing another harder slap. Your arms tremble, barely able to hold you up as the pleasure builds hotter and tighter in your core. "You’re clenching so fucking hard. You like it rough like this, don’t you?"
"Yes," you moan, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Harder, please."
He obeys without hesitation, fucking you with punishing force that makes the bed creak beneath you and his balls slap against you with every deep stroke. "Touch yourself, rub your clit while I fuck you."
You slide a hand between your legs, circling your swollen clit. Another sharp slap lands on your ass, the sting spreading hot across your skin and making you clench hard around him. "Fuck, do that again, doll." He delivers one more firm spank, then squeezes the reddened flesh possessively. "You’re dripping all over my cock, soaking the sheets like a good girl."
His words, combined with the relentless rhythm, the sharp tugs on your hair, the stinging slaps, and the overwhelming depth of this position, push you straight over the edge. Your orgasm hits hard, your walls pulsing and contracting tightly around his bare cock as waves of pleasure crash through you. You moan loudly into the mattress, your whole body shaking.
Sunghoon doesn’t slow down at all — he keeps fucking you through your orgasm, chasing his own. "I’m gonna come," he growls. After a few more deep, powerful thrusts, he buries himself to the hilt and groans as he fills you with hot pulses of cum, spilling deep inside you for the first time. The sensation is new and overwhelming — warm, wet, and so intimately raw that it makes your mind spin.
Sunghoon collapses beside you on the bed and pulls you against his chest, lazily stroking your back. "You should come to our parties more often. Those basketball idiots don’t deserve someone like you at their parties."
────────
Not everything is about the plan. After all, you are still in college — assignments pile up and deadlines approach without caring about your personal obsessions. When the professor pairs you with Jay for the next project, you don’t think much of it, you just need to finish the work as quickly as possible so you can get back to your plan.
The second-floor library was strangely quiet that night. Most students have already left, and the few who remain are buried in their books. You and Jay sit at a secluded table in a corner, surrounded by tall bookshelves that give you a sense of privacy.
Jay sits across from you, looking effortlessly attractive in a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his veiny forearms. You’ve been discussing the project for nearly an hour, but the conversation slowly drifts away from the assignment and becomes more personal.
"You always seem so put-together," you say with a small smile. "Even during finals week. How do you do it?"
Jay chuckles softly, leaning back in his chair. "Coffee. A lot of coffee… You’ve been glowing lately. There’s a new confidence in class. It looks good on you."
Your cheeks flush slightly. "Thank you. I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone lately."
"I noticed and it’s honestly really attractive." The compliment is light, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. Jay’s voice drops lower as he continues. "You know, it’s easy to talk to you… and easy to look at, too."
You laugh, quickly glancing around to make sure no one is nearby. "You’re not bad yourself. Always so polite and charming... It’s kind of dangerous."
His smile widens, and then he reaches across the table, lightly brushing his fingers against yours. The touch is gentle but sends a spark through you, making the library feel even quieter now, like the rest of the world has disappeared and only the two of you remain behind the shelves.
Before you can overthink it, Jay leans forward over the table. "Come here."
You meet him halfway, and the kiss starts soft and sweet at first — a gentle brush of lips that quickly deepens as he tilts his head. Jay kisses with care and skill, one hand gently cupping your cheek while the other rests on the table for balance. It feels good, warm, and surprisingly right.
When he finally pulls back, breathing a little faster, he whispers. "No one’s around… Come sit with me."
He gently pulls you around the table and onto his lap. Your legs part over his thighs, the skirt riding up as he settles you against him and wraps one arm securely around your waist.
"Jay," a nervous laugh escapes you as you glance at the shelves surrounding you. "We’re in the library… Someone could walk by any second."
"It’s okay," his hand traces slow circles on your lower back while the other rests on your thigh. "Look around, it’s almost empty, and the shelves block most of the view." He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then along your jaw. "We’ll be quiet. I just want to be close to you for a little while… if you’re okay with it."
Sitting on his lap like this in a public place feels incredibly bold, but Jay’s gentle confidence makes your hesitation melt away. "It’s okay," he whispers, kissing you again, slower this time. "Just relax. It’s just us right now."
You kiss him back, and it doesn’t take long for your hips to start moving almost on their own, grinding against the growing bulge in his jeans. The friction feels good even through your clothes — a slow, delicious rhythm that builds heat between your legs. Jay lets out a low hum of approval against your mouth, his hand squeezing your thigh encouragingly.
"That’s good… really good." His hips continue moving in deliberate circles, letting you feel him hardening beneath you — the thick outline pressing right against your core.
The kiss deepens as he traces your lower lip with his tongue, seeking entrance, and you open for him. "Yeah… keep doing that." One of his hands slides up to your cheek, tenderly stroking it with his thumb, while the other guides your hips, helping you find a rhythm that feels even better. "You’re driving me crazy doing this… it feels so good."
Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his gaze is dark with desire but still incredibly gentle. "Do you want to do this here?" he asks, thumb caressing your hip. "We don’t have to… but if you’re comfortable, I need you right now."
You quickly glance around — there’s still no one nearby. "Yes." The certainty in your voice surprises even you. "I want to."
He pulls you into another kiss, deep and reassuring, before reaching between your bodies to push his pants and underwear down just enough to free himself. His cock springs out — long and incredibly thick, the head flushed red and already glistening. It’s bigger than you expected, heavy, with prominent veins.
Your eyes widen in surprise and nervousness. "Jay… you’re really big. I don’t know if I can take all of that."
He cups your face with both hands, noticing your nerves. "Hey… look at me. We don’t have to rush anything, and if it’s too much, we stop, I promise." A soft, caring expression takes over as thumbs gently stroke your cheeks. "We’ll go really slow… I’ll make sure it feels good for you."
You nod, biting your lower lip. "Okay. I trust you."
One hand stays on your waist while the other guides his thick cock, rubbing the head against your soaked panties, teasing your entrance through the fabric. "Move your panties to the side for me."
With trembling hands, you hook your fingers under the fabric and pull it aside. The cool air hits your wet folds, making you shiver. Jay helps by tugging your skirt up until it’s bunched around your waist. Only then does he position himself at your entrance — the blunt head of his cock brushing against your slick pussy. "When you’re ready."
You take a deep breath and start sinking down, the stretch is immediate and intense — almost too much. His thickness slowly pushes your walls apart as you lower yourself, inch by inch. A soft moan escapes your lips from the burning sensation and the way he fills you so completely. It’s deeper than anything you’ve felt before, his huge size presses against every sensitive spot inside you.
Jay groans, tilting his head back for a moment. "Fuck… you’re so tight. Take it slow, angel. You’re doing so well."
You pause halfway, breathing deeply to ease the burning feeling. It’s almost uncomfortable, but the raw heat of him, bare and deep, sends sparks of pleasure through the stretch. Determined, you continue lowering yourself until you’re fully seated on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, your walls fluttering as they try to adjust to his enormous length.
For a few seconds, you stay still, adjusting to the feeling of his cock pulsing deep inside you. Jay’s arms wrap around you, holding you close as his lips brush your temple. "You’re perfect, angel. Taking me so well... Tell me when you want to move."
You start experimenting, at first moving simply — rising and sinking as you’ve seen in porn videos. The motion drags him along your walls, creating delicious friction, but it feels a little awkward. It feels good for him, his groans make that clear, but it isn’t quite hitting the right spots for you.
"This is incredible," he says honestly. "But I want you to feel good too. You don’t have to just go up and down. Grind on me… roll your hips in circles, and when you bounce, use your whole body. Let me guide you, angel."
He gently guides you with his hands on your hips, and you follow, shifting from simple up and down movements to a smooth, rolling grind. The change is instant — his thick cock now rubs perfectly against your front wall, pressing hard into that sensitive spot with every circle of your hips, making a sharp moan escape you. "Yes, just like that. Feel how deep I am when you roll your hips? Now try bouncing while you do that."
You combine the movements — lifting and dropping while rolling your hips on the way down. Each bounce takes him incredibly deep, his cockhead dragging against places that make your toes curl. The stretch remains intense because he’s almost too big, creating a delicious burn.
Jay groans louder, and one hand slides up to cradle the back of your neck as he kisses you again. "Yes… fuck, you’re riding me so well. Look at you, angel." His other hand stays on your hip, guiding you to bounce harder.
The praise makes you bolder. You brace your hands on his shoulders for balance and start bouncing faster, moving up and down while grinding. Jay is so big that you can feel his cock reaching deep into your stomach, creating a profound pressure that makes your head spin.
Your newfound confidence makes him throb inside you as Jay starts thrusting up to meet you, the added force sending waves of pleasure through your core. "Deeper… like this," you moan.
Jay’s hands roam all over your body — squeezing your ass, caressing your breasts over your shirt, pulling you down for more kisses. He doesn’t take full control, letting you lead while offering guidance and praise. "That’s it… move just like that. You’re getting so wet for me. You look so beautiful riding my cock."
The pleasure builds quickly, a deep, spreading heat that consumes your entire body. You lean forward, changing the angle, and cry out when you hit an even more sensitive spot. Jay groans, holding you tighter. "Right there? Good girl. Keep going, take what you need."
You moan loudly, burying your face in his neck as the orgasm crashes through you violently. Your walls clench uncontrollably around his cock, pulsing and milking him while you keep bouncing, pushing him over the edge right after. He groans, thrusting his hips up against you as he cums deep inside, filling you with hot, thick pulses of cum.
Once you both come down, Jay lifts your chin and kisses you again, his tongue moves lazily against yours, savoring the moment. You kiss him back, feeling his cock still twitching softly inside you.
"You were incredible, angel," he whispers between kisses, smiling against your lips. "So beautiful riding me like that."
Jay’s hands run gently down your back, his gaze dropping to your chest. "Can I see more of you?"
You nod, and he doesn’t waste a single second, pulls your blouse up just enough to free your breasts. The cool air of the library makes your nipples harden instantly. "Perfect,” you sigh softly as he takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.
He sucks harder, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bud with a careful bite that makes you moan and clench around his cock, which is still buried deep inside you. Switching to the other breast, he gives it the same attention — kissing, licking, sucking, and biting. You roll your hips slowly in his lap, savoring the way his cock twitches inside you every time he sucks harder.
"You’re so sensitive here," he murmurs against your skin, pressing open-mouthed kisses between your breasts. "I could spend hours doing this."
You let out a soft, needy sound, holding his head closer to your chest as he continues marking you with his mouth — sucking hard enough to leave hickeys that will remind you of this moment later. He’s getting hard again inside you, growing thicker and longer, pressing against your sensitive walls.
"Fuck, you’re making me hard again. The way you squeeze around me while I suck on these… you’re driving me crazy." Suddenly, Jay’s arms tighten around you and, in one swift movement, he stands up.
"Jay—!" you gasp, clutching his shoulders.
"I’ve got you," he says carefully, sitting you on the edge of the table with his cock still buried deep inside you. "I need to move for a bit. Okay, angel? Tell me if it’s too much."
Before you can respond, he starts fucking you at his own pace — deep, powerful thrusts that make your body shake on the table. The angle is perfect, making his thick cock drags along every inch of your walls with each stroke.
You try to stay quiet, but the pleasure is overwhelming, and moans far too loud for the silent library keep escaping. "Ah— Jay!"
He quickly covers your mouth with his hand while continuing to thrust firmly. "Shh, angel." His hips snap forward a little harder, testing your silence. "You have to stay quiet… someone might hear."
Even with his palm muffling your sounds, the deep thrusts still pull muffled but audible moans from you. Jay glances around nervously, unsure what to do because stopping isn’t an option, so he makes a quick decision. He pulls his cock out, reaches for your panties, which was pulled to the side this whole time, tugs the wet fabric free and then he pushes it between your lips.
"I’m sorry," he whispers immediately as he slides back inside you with a deep thrust. "I hate doing this… but I don’t want us to get caught, okay?"
You nod slightly, eyes watering from the intensity, but the gag works — your next moan comes out completely muffled. "You’re being so good for me, so wet and tight." Jay returns to your breasts, sucking on one nipple while he continues fucking you senseless.
His pace quickens, hips snapping harder against yours as he tries to keep control. The risk of getting caught and the feeling of you around him push him closer to the edge. "Cum for me. I’m close too… let go, angel."
You scream into the gag, your body shaking in his arms as you cum hard, and the sensation of your walls pulsing around him sends Jay over the edge right after. He buries himself as deep as possible and cums inside you with hot, intense pulses.
Still buried inside you, he strokes your hair and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. "You were incredible… so responsive and beautiful."
A shy smile tugs at your lips. "You were incredible too."
He runs his thumb across your flushed cheek. "I’d love to do this again someday… if you want. Maybe somewhere more private next time, so I can take my time with you."
Biting your lower lip, you nod. "I’d like that. A lot, actually."
That night, back in your dorm, you realize something: during those hours with Jay, you didn’t think about Heeseung even once because you were completely lost in the moment — in his gentle touches, his warm voice, and the way he made you feel so good.
────────
The basketball team has just won a home game. The crowd is still roaring and the players are celebrating in the middle of the court. Sitting in the stands, you spot Ni-ki — Heeseung’s close friend and teammate. He’s younger than the others but carries himself with an easy, playful confidence.
When the court finally quiets down and the players start heading toward the locker rooms, you walk calmly through the internal hallways of the building, following the path that leads to the locker room area. To avoid being seen by Heeseung, you hide behind a pillar. From there, you have a perfect view of anyone leaving the locker room, while people passing through the hallway are unlikely to notice you.
A few minutes pass before the door opens. A group of players steps out, talking loudly, and Heeseung is right in the middle of them. You press yourself tighter against the pillar, holding your breath as he walks by, laughing at some joke.
More athletes leave after that until the hallway falls completely silent. Knowing most people have already gone and the risk of seeing Heeseung has passed, you finally step out of your hiding spot and walk to a brighter, more visible part of the corridor, right near the door.
When Ni-ki comes out, his eyes land on you almost immediately. He slows his steps, tilting his head with clear interest and a mischievous smile playing on his lips. "No way. You actually waited? Most girls chase after the captain." He stops right in front of you, looking you up and down without even trying to hide it. "Damn, you look dangerous."
You feel a flutter in your stomach but smile back at him. "I thought the guy who kept stealing the ball and grinning like he owned the court deserved some attention tonight."
Ni-ki laughs, running a hand through his damp hair. "You’re bold, huh? I like that." He steps a little closer, his eyes sparkling with playful curiosity. "So what’s your deal? Are you a basketball fan or did you just come here to make my day way more interesting?"
There’s a seductive tease in his voice — arrogant but fun. He clearly likes what he sees and isn’t shy about showing it. "Because if you’re here for me, you should probably tell me your name before I start calling you ‘mine’ in front of the whole team."
If you play this right, he might casually mention you to the team later, and Heeseung would hear your name and maybe get curious. But if you mess up and come across as too eager or awkward, Ni-ki could joke about it in the locker room and ruin everything before you even get close. Still, you trust yourself. "It’s y/n."
"y/n," he repeats, like he’s savoring the sound. "Nice. It suits you. So, y/n… do you always wait outside the locker rooms after games looking this good, or did I just get lucky today?"
"Only when the player on the court is showing off like he’s trying to impress someone."
Ni-ki moves even closer. "Ah, so you were really watching me? Careful, I might get too cocky." He tilts his head, his eyes tracing your face before dropping to your lips. "Or maybe that’s exactly what you want. To make me arrogant enough to do something about the pretty girl who showed up just for me."
His gaze continues sliding down from your lips, appreciating the way your top hugs your body. Suddenly, Ni-ki glances around, checking if anyone is nearby. The hallway is empty. Without warning, he grabs your hand with a grin. "Come with me for a second."
He pulls you into the locker room, but not near the entrance. He keeps guiding you deeper inside, past a small entryway and around the corner of the main area, where he presses your body against the wall. The tension that has been building finally snaps. Cupping your face with one hand, he kisses you with raw hunger — his lips moving against yours with confidence as his tongue teases yours, deepening the kiss almost instantly.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, a cocky little smirk on his face. "Fuck… you taste even better than I imagined."
He presses you harder against the wall and slides one thigh between your legs, creating just enough pressure to make you gasp into his mouth. "You’re so fucking addictive." His hands slip under your top, warm palms gliding over your skin and sending shivers through you.
Suddenly, Ni-ki drops to his knees in front of you, looking up with an even more mischievous smile. "I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you waiting outside." His hands move quickly, unbuttoning your jeans and tugging them down along with your panties. He lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder, opening you up to him.
Ni-ki presses his mouth against your pussy like he’s starving for it — voracious and rough. His tongue licks long, wet stripes from your entrance up to your clit before swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves.
"Oh my God — Ni-ki…" you moan, one hand flying to his messy hair.
He moans against you, the vibration shooting pleasure straight up your spine. "You taste so good." His tongue dives inside you, licking and savoring every inch like he can’t get enough. Messy and eager, his lips suck on your folds before focusing back on your clit with small, hungry sucks and licks.
He eats you out like he wants to memorize every taste, every reaction — switching between long, slow licks that make your toes curl and faster movements that force you to bite your lip to stay quiet.
"Ni-ki… that feels so good." He looks up at you while his mouth works, eyes gleaming with satisfaction and desire, clearly loving the way you’re falling apart for him.
Ni-ki murmurs in response and doubles his efforts, sucking your clit into his mouth while his tongue moves fast. "Ni-ki… fuck, right there," you gasp, fingers tightening almost painfully in his hair as your hips start grinding against his face.
He slides two fingers inside you while his tongue keeps working your clit, curling them instantly against that perfect spot.
Your breathing turns ragged, your thighs trembling uncontrollably around his head. "I… I’m gonna—" you try to warn him, voice breaking, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he sucks harder on your clit and pumps his fingers faster.
Your whole body locks up for a second before a violent tremor runs through you. Your pussy clenches hard around his fingers as your clit pulses wildly against his tongue.
Ni-ki groans proudly against you, licking you through every wave, addicted to the way you fall apart. He keeps going until you’re whimpering, oversensitive and shaking. Only then does he finally pull back, lips glossy and swollen. "Shit, you come so beautifully."
He rises to his feet with a satisfied smirk and pulls you into another kiss so you can taste yourself on his tongue, his hands grip your waist, pressing your body against his. "You’re so sweet. I could eat you every day, all day long."
You open your mouth to respond, but the metallic click of the main door handle cuts through the air.
You both freeze and footsteps echo on the tiled floor, accompanied by a familiar voice humming something.
It’s Jungwon — another teammate, the point guard.
"Shit." Ni-ki quickly grabs your hand and pulls you toward the shower area with its open stalls and curtains. Yanking one curtain aside, he guides you inside, and presses your back against the cold tiled wall.
The footsteps grow louder, closer. "Hey, is anyone still in here?" Jungwon’s voice sounds casual, like he heard something and decided to check.
Ni-ki presses a finger to your lips, leaning in so close that his warm breath brushes your ear. "Don’t make a sound," he whispers, almost inaudible.
Your heart pounds hard against your ribs, but Ni-ki doesn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, the risk seems to excite him even more. Jungwon’s footsteps get closer, and right at that exact moment, Ni-ki pushes two fingers inside you without any warning. Your eyes widen and a sharp gasp almost escapes before you bite down hard on your lip.
He curls his fingers instantly, stroking that sensitive spot deep inside you with ease, a small mischievous smirk on his face as he watches your reaction. He pumps them slowly at first, then faster, while his thumb presses firmly against your swollen clit.
Trembling violently, you bury your face in his neck, desperately trying to muffle the moans threatening to spill out. "Shhh," Ni-ki whispers right against your ear, but his fingers don’t stop — deep, curling thrusts that make your knees buckle. "You’re squeezing me so tight. Does almost getting caught turn you on?"
You nod frantically and bite down on his shoulder through his shirt to stay quiet as Jungwon moves just a few meters away. Ni-ki’s thumb presses harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster, making your thighs shake and your walls flutter uncontrollably around him as you fight to stay silent. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes from the effort.
Jungwon’s voice echoes again, closer this time. "I heard noises coming from here. Who the hell is in here?"
Noticing Jungwon getting closer, Ni-ki curls his fingers harder, rubbing your sweet spot relentlessly while his thumb works your clit in fast, precise circles. You dig your nails into his back, letting out a silent scream against his neck as pleasure peaks. Your pussy clenches violently around his fingers, dripping as waves of spasms run through you.
Finally, Jungwon’s footsteps retreat. The door opens and closes again. The second it does, Ni-ki pulls his fingers out and kisses you hard, swallowing the broken moan that finally escapes you.
Without breaking the kiss, he tugs down his basketball shorts and boxers in one quick motion, freeing his hard, thick, flushed cock. It’s already leaking at the tip from how turned on he is after eating you out and fingering you.
You reach for him without thinking — and without really knowing what you’re doing — wrapping your hand around his length and stroking slowly at first. You feel the heat and the way he pulses hot against your palm as your thumb brushes over the head, spreading the precum. "You’re so hard… I can feel how much you want this."
"Yeah? Then let me have you." He quickly helps you pull your jeans and panties all the way down your legs, kicking them aside before pressing you against the cold tiled wall of the shower stall. One hand grips your thigh as he lines himself up and with one smooth thrust, he pushes inside, burying his cock deep into your still-sensitive pussy. The stretch makes you gasp at the sudden, overwhelming fullness after everything that’s already happened.
He fucks you against the wall with firm, deep thrusts, his hips snapping forward while he holds you in place. "Fuck, you feel so good. So fucking good," he groans, burying his face in your neck as he drives into you harder, each movement pressing you against the tiles. "So wet and tight."
"Ni-ki… you’re so deep," your voice trembles with pleasure as he hits that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "Don’t stop… it feels so good."
He keeps going like that for a while, fucking you firmly against the wall with his hands gripping your ass. But soon the position isn’t enough for him, with a low grunt, he suddenly lifts you as if you weigh nothing, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. The new angle lets him sink even deeper, and you let out a muffled cry as he starts bouncing you on his cock, thrusting up with hungry movements that make your breasts bounce inside your top.
"Yes, like that… it feels so good," you moan while he fucks you in the air, your back pressed against the wall for leverage as he holds you like you’re weightless. The sensation is intense, every thrust hits so deep it makes your head spin and your toes curl.
"Open your mouth." He brings two fingers to your lips. "Suck them for me. I want to feel that pretty mouth while I fuck you."
You part your lips obediently and take his fingers into your mouth, sucking them eagerly while he keeps thrusting into you. His cock twitches at the feeling of your warm mouth around his fingers, the taste of you still lingers on them from earlier, making you moan around them.
"That’s it," he says, eyes locked on your face as he watches you suck his fingers while bouncing you on his cock. "You look so fucking hot like this. Keep sucking just like that."
You do exactly that, swirling your tongue and sucking harder as he drives deep inside you, clearly losing himself in how good it feels.
You pull off his fingers with a wet pop and gasp, "Ni-ki… I’m so close again. I’m gonna come."
With a mischievous smirk, he pushes his fingers back into your mouth, moving them in time with his cock as he fucks you harder against the wall. "Then come for me again. I want to feel you squeezing my cock while you suck my fingers."
The dirty words combined with his relentless pace finally push you over the edge. You moan loudly around his fingers as your legs tighten around his waist. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes through you, making your entire body shake in his arms.
Ni-ki groans at the feeling of you coming and his thrusts turn erratic. He buries himself as deep as possible and comes hard inside you, pulsing with hot spurts while holding you firmly against the wall.
After a moment, he finally lowers you gently until your feet touch the floor again, but he doesn’t pull out immediately, he stays nestled inside your heat, kissing you slowly and almost lazily, like he isn’t ready to end the moment yet. "Fuck… that was incredible. And honestly? That was the best post-game sex I’ve ever had. No joke. I’m gonna be thinking about this pussy for days."
You let out a soft giggle, cheeks burning. "Really? I don’t think I’ll be able to walk properly after this."
Surprisingly gentle, he laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek before finally pulling out slowly. Both of you hiss at the loss. "That’s actually great. Means you’ll be thinking about me too. When can we do this again? After the next game, or maybe after every practice?"
────────
The basketball team had crushed their biggest rival that night, and the victory party at the massive off-campus house is going to be loud, chaotic, and packed with people. This is the moment you’ve been carefully preparing for with every practice session and every new experience. Tonight is the night.
You choose a bold black dress that clings to your body like a second skin, short enough to show off your legs and thighs, with a neckline that reveals just enough to be daring. Your hair is styled exactly the way you like it, and your makeup is flawless, enhancing your features in a way that makes you feel powerful. When you look in the mirror, you look like someone who belongs in Heeseung’s world.
When you arrive at the party, the music is already pulsing through the walls, bodies are moving everywhere, and the air smells like alcohol and sweat. Your eyes scan the room until they find him.
Heeseung is sitting on the large couch in the main room like he owns the place — which he basically does. Two girls are practically draped over him. One is half in his lap, her hand resting possessively on his chest, while he has one arm casually around the other girl, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her shoulder as he talks to his teammates.
Spotting Ni-ki nearby, chatting with some of the other players, you walk toward him with confident steps because you aren’t going straight to Heeseung. No — you’re going to make him come to you. Ni-ki’s eyes light up with immediate recognition and interest.
"I can’t believe you’re here," he says with a grin as he pulls you into a side hug that lasts a second longer than necessary. "You look dangerous tonight. Come here, I want you to meet some of the guys."
You laugh softly and stay close to him, letting him introduce you to some of his teammates, including Jungwon. Your cheeks heat up as you remember that moment in the locker room, and when you glance to the side, Heeseung is watching — the girls are still around him, but his eyes are locked on you, following every move you make.
Ni-ki leans in and whispers in your ear, "You know, I still can’t stop thinking about that day in the locker room. Jungwon almost catching us… My fingers buried so deep inside you while you tried so hard not to moan. I’ve been replaying that shit all week."
Your face flushes instantly and the memory makes your thighs press together in a rush of heat. "Ni-ki…" you whisper back, half embarrassed and half turned on, "you can’t just say that here."
You’re too focused on Ni-ki to notice Heeseung pushing the girl off his lap, standing up, and walking over with his usual confidence. He stops right in front of you, his gaze shifting between you and Ni-ki, who is still grinning widely.
"What’s so funny over here?" Heeseung asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "You two look like you’re sharing secrets."
You freeze for a second before answering quickly, a little too fast. "Nothing."
"Nothing? Come on. Nothing stays hidden from the captain, especially when my teammate is standing here grinning like an idiot and you’re looking all flustered." He steps closer, his full attention now on you. "Gonna tell me what got you so worked up, pretty?"
Ni-ki’s playful smile fades, replaced by something closer to jealousy as he watches the captain focus entirely on you. "We're just messing around. It's fun talking to y/n, that's all."
Heeseung looks you up and down slowly, taking in the way the dress hugs every curve of your body. "Want a drink? I can’t have you standing here empty-handed."
"Yeah… I’d like that."
Ni-ki’s jaw tightens as he glances between the two of you, clearly not happy about being sidelined, but he knows better than to push it with Heeseung. "Catch you later, y/n," he says, giving you one last look filled with a mix of jealousy and desire before disappearing into the crowd.
Now it’s just you and Heeseung.
He guides you toward the kitchen, his hand lightly brushing your lower back. “So… y/n,” he says, savoring your name like he’s testing how it feels on his tongue. "You show up at my party looking like sin, talking to my boy while wearing this little dress that makes everyone wonder what you’re hiding underneath." A mischievous smile curves his lips as his eyes flick to your mouth for a moment. "You gonna let me find out, or are you just here to tease?"
You feel yourself getting wet just from the way he’s looking at you — that hungry stare and confident tone making your panties stick to you. "Talking about what I’m hiding under this dress already? We just got to the kitchen… but yeah, I might let you discover it." Your voice comes out bold because you refuse to sound nervous now, after waiting so long for this moment.
Deep down, all you can think about is how badly you want him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless.
Heeseung’s smile deepens, a flash of satisfaction crossing his face. He glances around to make sure no one is paying too much attention, then leans in even closer, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks. "There’s an empty room upstairs. Third door on the left, go up in a few minutes. I’ll follow right after so no one notices."
He pulls back, sliding his hand slowly along your waist before disappearing into the crowd. You wait a few minutes, taking a sip of your drink to calm your nerves, but it barely helps — the ache between your legs only grows with every passing second. After exactly five minutes, you head up the stairs and find the third door already slightly ajar. You step inside with shaky, anticipatory breaths.
Moments later, Heeseung appears. He closes the door firmly behind him and locks it.
The second the lock clicks, he’s on you.
There’s nothing gentle about the way his mouth crashes against yours in a hungry, intense kiss. He bites your lower lip, tugging it between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, then does it again harder just to hear you whimper.
His hands slide down to grip your ass firmly under the dress, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pulls you flush against him, letting you feel the hard outline of his cock through his pants.
"Fuck, this ass feels even better than it looks in that dress," he growls against your mouth, squeezing harder and spreading your cheeks. The kiss deepens, his tongue dominating yours while he continues kneading and groping your ass like he can’t get enough.
Heeseung’s mischievous smirk returns when he hears you moan into the kiss. He doesn’t break it as he walks you backward toward the bed. When the back of your knees hit the mattress, he pushes you down and climbs on top of you.
A string of saliva connects his lips to yours when he pulls back to strip your dress off in one quick motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties, his eyes darkening with lust as he takes in every inch of your body.
"Look at you… such a pretty little slut, all dressed up for who? For me?" His hands make quick work of unclasping your bra and tossing it aside before he drags your panties down your legs and throws them away too, leaving you completely naked and exposed for him.
With a firm hand, Heeseung spreads your legs wide, getting a perfect view of your glistening, dripping pussy. "Already so wet for me, but it’s not enough." Suddenly he leans down and spits directly on your pussy, the warm string of saliva hitting your clit and dripping down your folds. The sight makes his rock-hard cock twitch inside his pants so he does it again, spitting a second time, then spreads it with two fingers, rubbing the wetness all over. "Gonna get this pussy nice and sloppy for me."
You moan loudly at the filthy feeling of his saliva sliding through your folds — hips jerk while your pussy clenches around nothing.
Heeseung drags his tongue slowly up your pussy, licking from your entrance to your clit in one long, deliberate stroke that makes you gasp. When you do, he laughs against you — the vibration sending shivers through your entire body.
"You taste so fucking good," he says before diving back in. He eats you out messily, his tongue swirling around your clit before dipping down to push inside you, savoring every drop of your arousal mixed with his spit.
Your hands fly to his hair, gripping it tightly as the overwhelming sensation hits you. "Heeseung, that feels incredible…"
He keeps going, licking deeper inside you while his nose brushes against your clit, but suddenly he pulls back, looking up at you with a devilish smirk. Without warning, he brings his hand down in a sharp, wet slap against your soaked pussy, the sting mixed with pleasure makes you cry out loudly. "Holy fuck, Heeseung."
"You like that too?" He slaps your pussy again, harder this time, hitting your folds and swollen clit. "Such a dirty girl, getting even wetter when I slap this pretty pussy."
"Yes— God, yes," you moan, thighs trembling. "It burns, but it feels so good at the same time."
That encourages him to give you another slap and right after, he buries his face between your legs again, sucking hard on your clit while two thick fingers push inside you. He fingers you mercilessly, curling them to hit that sweet spot over and over as his tongue works your clit. "Fuck, you’re so tight. Taking my fingers like a good little slut for me."
He spits on your clit again, spreading the saliva with his tongue before adding a third finger, stretching you deliciously while pumping them faster and harder. All you can do is moan, your thighs shaking violently around his head. "Heeseung, I’m getting close… please don’t stop."
He obeys, alternating between long licks, hard sucks on your clit, deep thrusts of his fingers, and firm slaps that make your pussy burn and throb. "I’m gonna come," you moan, arching your back off the bed.
"Then come for me." Your entire body tenses, your walls clenching hard around his fingers as spasms rip through you. You come hard with a loud cry, thighs trembling violently around his head. But Heeseung doesn’t stop, he keeps licking and fingering you through every pulse, drawing out your pleasure until you’re oversensitive and whimpering.
When he finally pulls back with glossy lips and chin, he kisses you again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. "Get on your knees for me," he commands against your lips. "I want that pretty mouth around my cock."
It’s time to put into practice what Sunghoon taught you about sucking dick.
With a confident little smile, you gently push him so he lies on his back. Once he does, you position yourself between his legs and reach for his belt, slowly unbuckling it. He lifts his hips to help as you pull his pants and boxers down, freeing his cock. It springs up thick, hard, and leaking precum, making your mouth water at the sight.
You wrap one hand around the base of his cock, lean in, and press a soft kiss to the tip before dragging your tongue slowly along the underside, drawing a shaky breath from Heeseung. "That’s it… suck me like a good girl."
Feeling confident, you take him into your mouth and slowly suck on the head, swirling your tongue around it while savoring the precum there. Then you take him deeper, bobbing your head as your hand strokes what doesn’t fit, your movements growing smoother as you find the right rhythm. "Fuck… your mouth feels so good."
His praise encourages you to take him even deeper until the head brushes the back of your throat, making you gag. A wet choking sound escapes as your eyes water, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you stay there for a moment, breathing through your nose the way Sunghoon taught you, before sliding back up and sinking down again.
Heeseung grabs your hair and tightens his grip as a needy groan escapes his throat. "Shit, that’s… ahh—"
You keep going, moving your head faster and sucking harder while your hand twists around the base, making his thighs tense and another desperate moan slip out.
It’s hard to believe that Heeseung, the guy everyone on campus talks about, the one with a reputation for being experienced and dominant, is moaning and whimpering under your mouth. It’s unexpected, but not in a bad way, especially because your pussy clenches around nothing every time he makes those sounds.
You pull back a little, sucking on the head while stroking him faster with your hand, which draws another broken moan from him. "Yes— fuck, yes, baby."
Wanting to pull even more reactions from him, you take him deep into your mouth again, gagging softly around his length as your head moves faster. Saliva drips down his entire shaft and onto your hand, making everything slick and messy.
Heeseung’s moans grow louder, breathier, and more frequent. "Fuck, I… I’m gonna come. Please don’t stop… I’m so close, baby."
You moan around him and suck harder until his thighs start to tremble. "Fuck… fuck—!" His voice cracks as the orgasm finally hits him.
His cock pulses hot and hard on your tongue, releasing thick jets of cum into your mouth. You try to swallow as much as you can, continuing to suck him through every last spasm and moan.
When you finally pull off his cock with a wet pop, Heeseung moves fast. He flips you onto your back and hovers over you — the whimpering guy from moments ago is gone. Now his eyes are filled with raw hunger.
"I’m not done with you yet." With a firm hand, he spreads your thighs, exposing your dripping pussy, begging to be fucked. "Now I’m going to fuck you properly."
You blink at him, confused and surprised by the sudden shift because seconds ago he was moaning and almost begging under your mouth, and now he’s trying to act like the dominant guy everyone talks about.
He lines up the head of his cock at your entrance, rubbing it up and down your wet folds, coating himself with your arousal. Without warning, he thrusts into you hard in one brutal stroke, stretching you around his thick length.
The sudden fullness makes you cry out loudly, your back arching off the bed. "Oh my God — Heeseung!" The stretch feels so good, especially while you’re still sensitive from coming earlier.
He fucks you hard and deep from the very first thrust, his hips slamming against yours with relentless strokes that make the bed creak beneath you. "Fuck, this pussy is so wet and greedy," he groans, leaning down to capture your lips in a messy kiss while one of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath hitch. He holds it for a few seconds before loosening his grip, letting you gasp for air. "Look at you, sucking my cock like a good little slut. You love being used like this, don’t you?"
"Yes, fuck, yes," you moan, your voice breaking under the pressure of his hand. "You’re so deep inside me. It feels so good, Heeseung."
He chokes you again, a little harder this time, and the mix of pleasure and lack of air makes your head spin deliciously.
Heeseung pushes your legs back toward your chest, folding you in half so he can fuck you even deeper. The new angle makes his cock hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, causing your eyes to roll back.
When he finally releases your throat, you gasp desperately for air, moaning loudly as he keeps hitting that sweet spot over and over. "Please… harder. I can take it."
Heeseung lets out a needy groan at your words, his hips stuttering for half a second before he gives you exactly what you asked for. He fucks you harder, rougher, driving his cock into you with punishing depth. The sound of skin slapping against skin grows louder and wetter as he pounds into you, pressing your body into the mattress.
Just as your next orgasm starts to build, he suddenly slows down, keeping his cock buried deep inside you but barely moving. "Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so, slut."
You whine desperately, trying to lift your hips for more friction. "Please, Heeseung… I need to come. I’m so close already. Don’t stop— I’ve been so good."
He smirks wickedly, shaking his head as he starts thrusting with slow, teasing rolls of his hips. "Beg better than that, baby. I want to hear how badly you need it."
You’re a complete mess underneath him, tears of frustration and pleasure gathering in your eyes. "Please… I’ll be so good for you. Just let me come on your cock, please. I need it so bad— I can’t take this teasing anymore."
Heeseung groans, but the sound turns into a needy moan as your walls clench around him. He starts fucking you harder again, his hand returning to your throat. But he isn’t done teasing you yet, so he edges you two more times — bringing you right to the brink with deep, brutal thrusts only to slow down and leave you whimpering and empty.
On the third time, you’re crying and babbling nonstop. "Heeseung… please, I can’t take it anymore. It hurts so good… I need to come. I’ll do anything you want. Just let me come on your cock."
"Fuck… you look so pretty when you beg," he groans, his voice rough with his own need to come. He thrusts into you with brutal force, tightening his hand around your throat again while his hips move relentlessly. "Come then. Come all over my cock like the desperate slut you are. Let me feel you."
Your entire body seizes underneath him. Your walls clamp down hard around his thick cock, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you soak his cock and the sheets beneath you, screaming his name.
Heeseung fucks you through your orgasm, groaning as your pussy milks him. "Fuck, that’s it. Good girl… you’re squeezing me so tight." A few more brutal, deep thrusts and he buries himself as deep as possible, coming hard inside you with thick, hot pulses.
Lying under him with your heart racing and breath coming in short, heavy bursts, his cock still buried deep inside you, your mind keeps returning to the sounds he made minutes ago — those desperate, broken moans and whimpers when you had him in your mouth.
Something about hearing him lose control like that makes heat pool low in your belly. After a few seconds of hesitation, you gather your courage, place a hand on his chest, and push him gently but firmly. "My turn to break you now. I want to hear you moaning under me." You say as you swing your leg over his waist, straddling him.
Heeseung’s breath hitches as his cock, already hardening again beneath you, shows just how much he likes the shift in power. "Baby… fuck," he gasps, his hands reaching for your hips.
"Don’t touch unless I say so." You slap his hands away, then wrap your fingers around his thick cock, stroking him slowly and teasingly while rubbing the head up and down your cum-soaked pussy. "Look at you. The captain of the basketball team. Everyone on campus thinks you’re this untouchable stud who ruins girls and never gets ruined."
You sink down onto him in one slow motion, taking every inch until your ass meets his thighs — the stretch making both of you moan. You stay completely still, clenching around him just to watch him squirm, a mischievous smile spreading across your face. Then you start moving your hips slowly, rubbing your clit against his pelvis. "Ahh— fuck… please don’t tease me."
You begin riding his cock properly, using everything you learned — deep movements, tight squeezes, and powerful bounces that make your ass slap against his thighs and your clit grind deliciously against his pelvis.
"Fuck, baby," he hisses, his hands flying to your hips, but you grab his wrists and push them away. You lean down so your breasts brush against his chest and his cock hits even deeper. "Don’t touch. Just take this pussy like a good boy. Got it, captain?"
Heeseung’s cock twitches hard inside you at your words, and a low, surprised moan escapes his throat. "Shit… yes," he groans, clearly turned on by the way you dominate him. "Use me, baby. Fuck me."
So this was the real Heeseung? A whimpering mess when someone takes control. All that arrogance on the court, all those girls throwing themselves at him, and here he is — moaning and shaking underneath you like he can’t handle how good your pussy feels around him.
You watch every reaction closely, mesmerized by the way his lips part, his breath coming in short, needy gasps every time you bounce and grind on him, and the broken moans slipping from his throat when you clench hard around his cock.
'God, he really is a whimperer,' you think, amazed by the sight as you bite your lip and ride him harder. "All that reputation and you’re crying because a girl is riding you. That’s kind of pathetic… but so fucking hot."
Heeseung lets out another broken moan, his hands desperately gripping the sheets since you won’t let him touch you. "Fuck— you’re killing me. Your pussy feels too good, I can’t… ah— slow down a little, please."
You laugh softly and keep riding him mercilessly, clenching around his cock rhythmically, rolling your hips in tight, dirty circles while bouncing faster and faster, making sure he feels every movement. "You’re going to take this like a good boy, captain."
Heeseung moans louder, letting his head fall back against the pillow as his body trembles beneath you. "Shit, you’re so mean. Please don’t stop. Your pussy is squeezing me so tight— fuck, I’m losing my mind."
You lean back, bracing your hands on his thighs so he has the perfect view of his cock disappearing into your dripping pussy. "Look how deep you are," you moan, rolling your ass on him in small, obscene movements. "You like watching me use your cock like this, don’t you? Such a big, strong captain… and now you’re moaning under me."
The pleasure and the delicious sight of the untouchable Heeseung moaning and whimpering push you toward your own orgasm. "I’m gonna come," you gasp, leaning down to kiss him messily while still bouncing on his cock. "And you’re going to come with me, crybaby."
Heeseung moans loudly, the nickname making his cock twitch hard inside you. "Fuck… I’m coming!" His hips buck up to meet your bounces as thick jets of cum spill deep inside you once again.
You follow right behind him, your orgasm crashing over you as you keep riding him through both of your peaks, milking every last drop from his cock.
"Don’t tell anyone about this," he begs breathlessly, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "That I’m… like this. Please. This is our secret, okay? Just between us."
────────
Jake’s hands grip your hips tightly, you clench around his cock and roll your hips in those filthy, perfected movements. His broken moans fill the room as you bounce faster, grinding harder against him. Suddenly, your phone starts ringing on the nightstand, Ni-ki’s name lighting up the screen.
You slow your movements, reaching over to answer the call while still sitting on Jake’s cock. "Hey," you sigh, slightly breathless.
Jake groans, his hips twitching desperately. "Babe… please don’t stop," his voice is full of need. "I was so close… keep going, please."
You cover his mouth with your hand to silence him to continue the call. Ni-ki sounds frustrated on the other end. "You free right now? We lost tonight and I’m pissed. Come to my dorm… I need that pretty pussy to help me forget this shit game."
"I can come over soon," you say, trying to keep your voice steady while rolling your hips on Jake. "Give me a bit."
"Good. Don’t take too long. I really need to fuck you," Ni-ki says before hanging up.
You drop the phone and start riding Jake again. "Sorry about that. Now be a good boy and come for me.
Later that night, you’re on all fours in Ni-ki’s dorm as he fucks you hard from behind. His hips slam against your ass with deep, aggressive thrusts.
In the middle of a particularly rough stroke, he suddenly asks, "I saw you leaving the hockey rink the other day. What the hell were you doing there?"
You moan and push back to meet his thrusts. "None of your business."
Ni-ki’s hand comes down hard on your ass with a loud smack. The sharp sting makes you clench around his cock and moan louder. He slaps you again, even harder. "Wrong answer."
"Again," you moan, arching your back. "I like it."
Ni-ki laughs darkly and keeps spanking you repeatedly while fucking you harder, his palm leaving red marks on your ass as he pounds into you until both of you come hard.
The next afternoon, you’re on your knees in Jay’s dorm with his huge cock stretching your mouth as you suck him. Jay has one hand gently stroking your hair, looking down at you with proud eyes.
"You’re doing so well. Taking me so deep like this… you look so beautiful with my cock in your mouth, angel."
You relax your throat, taking him as deep as you can, sucking harder, using every technique you’ve learned. Jay groans, his fingers sliding gently through your hair.
"Fuck… you’re incredible. Such a good girl for me. Keep going, you’re making me feel so good."
He keeps praising you the whole time, soft and sincere, until he finally comes down your throat with a soft, shaky groan, lovingly stroking your cheek as you swallow everything.
When you leave Jay’s room, still a little flushed and disheveled, you run straight into Sunghoon in the hallway. He looks at you, then at Jay’s door behind you, and his expression darkens instantly.
"What the fuck were you doing in there?"
You don’t answer, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let you. Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his own dorm, slamming the door behind you. He fucks you hard and jealous, bending you over the desk, taking you from behind with brutal, possessive thrusts.
"You’ve been fucking everyone lately, haven’t you?" he growls, driving deep and angry. "Greedy little slut."
You moan loudly, loving the jealous tone in his voice.
During the rough thrusts, your phone starts vibrating on the desk — it’s Heeseung sending message after message.
Heeseung:
I can’t stop thinking about that night with you.
Come over.
Baby, answer me.
I know you’re getting these.
Don’t play games with me.
Stop fucking ignoring me.
Sunghoon notices the constant buzzing, picks up the phone, uses your face to unlock it, and opens the chat. With a dark, possessive smile, he takes a photo of your flushed, teary-eyed, moaning face while he fucks you hard from behind and sends it to Heeseung with the caption: "She’s busy."
He tosses the phone aside and fucks you even harder after that.
────────
You finally understand why Heeseung never wants to be tied to just one person. Having options is liberating. Jake, Sunghoon, Jay, Ni-ki, and Heeseung — each one offers something different: different rhythms, different kinds of pleasure, different versions of yourself. You don’t have to choose just one because you can have them all. Now you understand Heeseung’s lifestyle — it’s freeing.
And you realize you want that freedom too.
Thank you for reading! and a special thanks to everyone who asked to be tagged <3
Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen when you enter ENHYPHI’s annual raffle? Well, you could actually win it. And the prize just happens to be a date with one of the frat’s hottest boys.
minors do not interact
pairing ── kim sunoo x afab reader
word count ── 15k
content tags/warnings ── SMUT, college au, fratboy! sunoo, casual sex, slice of life, romance, slowburn, death, fatal illness (cancer), miscommunication, late-night, conversation, power dynamics, talks of sexuality and coming out, social hierarchy, mentions of jay and sunghoon, appearance by jake. not proofread
nene’s note ── my first ever only sunoo fic! how exciting. i know you guys are waiting on my other works (ngl i had a monster and a red bull and wrote most of this in a single sitting) and i promise they’re coming real soon. let me know what you guys think about this one, as you know i love feedback!💋
nsfw warnings under the cut
oral (f. rec), fingering, pussy slapping (ikr), switch!reader, switch!sunoo, protected sex (that’s a first), riding, squirting, praise play, dirty talk, somnophilia, nipple play, handjob, orgasm control, overstimulation. lmk if i forget any
If you asked anyone else in this hallway why they were emptying their bank accounts for the Enhyphi raffle, they’d definitely name a specific fraternity boy and for three years, you had walked right past the huge glossy advertisements without a single second thought.
The annual charity draw was practically a campus holiday by now, a week long massive spectacle where thousands of students aggressively vied for the ultimate prize, which was a fully customizable, all expenses paid date with one of the fraternity’s elites. To you, it had always looked like a superficial circus and since the rotating charities never personally resonated with you, your cash stayed firmly in your wallet.
But this year’s flyer had a different footnote.
All proceeds go to the local Leukemia Research Clinic.
The words hit like an actual tap on your shoulder. Suddenly, the post lecture chatter of the corridor faded into the background, and the memory of a sterile hospital room from two years ago along with the fading smile of your aunt and the helpless anger of watching a disease steal someone away piece by piece.
It felt entirely bizarre to connect that lingering grief with the most coveted bachelors on campus. Yet, your hand was already unzipping your tote and your fingers were finding the edge of your wallet. Sure, a raffle ticket wouldn't bring your aunt back but for the first time in your college career, you felt like the money was actually going somewhere that mattered.
The walk from your building to the center of campus usually took five minutes but today the concrete pathways felt tight, completely choked by an unusual influx of students all moving in a single direction. You tucked your strap higher on your shoulder as you followed the crowd and the closer you got to the quad, the more the ambient buzz of campus life sharpened into something loud and bass heavy.
When you finally rounded the edge of the library, the brick path finally opened up and the sheer scale of the event hit you.
You stopped at the perimeter of the grass and let your eyes scan the transformation. The university lawn was now barely visible beneath a sprawling maze of interconnected white and blue canopy tents, thick black power cables snaked through the grass and a sea of moving bodies. Enhyphi hadn't just thrown a fundraiser—they had literally built a temporary carnival.
You slowly stepped onto the lawn, slowly navigating around a group of freshman girls who were frantically checking their makeup in their phone cameras. Looking to your left, you watched the crowd cluster around the wooden frame of a kissing booth. A guy in front of you paid his five dollars, stepped up on his toes and blushed furiously as one of the handsome frat boys leaned over the counter to plant a quick and overly exaggerated smack on his cheek, which prompted a loud cheer from the line behind him.
The smoky scent of charred meat grew thicker when you walked deeper into the crowd, making you glance towards the smoke plumes rising from a massive grill. Two frat boys, who were completely shirtless despite the slight afternoon breeze, clad in nothing but denim shorts and grease stained aprons, were putting on a full performance for a crowd. One was dramatically flipping hotdogs into the air and catching them on a spatula while the other barked out prices like an old school carnival worker, his defined chest was covered in a faint layer of ash.
You kept moving, using your eyes to search through the banners until you spotted the rather large sign reading RAFFLE TICKETS HERE — $10 A PIECE.
Your chest tightened slightly as you took in the view, the line was a long, looping serpent of people, starting right under the main tent, coiling past the grill stand, wrapping completely around the concrete fountain and stretching back toward the steps on the opposite side. You actually stopped in your tracks and let your hand drop from your bag zipper. The volume of the crowd was ridiculous and the thought of standing in the sun, surrounded by loud music and screaming students made your bedroom suddenly feel like a distant paradise.
You took a half step backward. This is ridiculous, you thought to yourself. I should just go to my room.
But as you stood there, fully ready to retreat, you kept your eyes on the front of the tent. A frat boy with a megaphone was efficiently handing out blue paper slips and making the process quicker. The line shifted and a solid block of ten people moved forward seamlessly, the queue compressing by several feet in a matter of seconds. They were running the booth with military efficiency, safe for the chatty girls that took their time flirt a little before stepping out of the line.
You looked back down at your purse in your tote and thought of the footnote on the poster, so you took a breath. You stepped onto the worn grass, walking to the very end of the line and taking your place behind a girl texting furiously on her phone.
It only took forty five minutes of shifting your weight from one foot to the other on the trampled grass to finally bring you to the front of the queue. The constant thud of the bass from the speakers and the shout of the megaphone had started to give you a dull headache but the relief of finally being next in line kept you grounded.
The girl in front of you, the one who had been glued to her phone the entire time stepped up to the folding table and tossed her long hair over her shoulder.
"Hi! I'd like a hundred tickets, please," she said with performative sweetness as she leaned closer with her palms on the table.
You blinked and leaned slightly to the side to see if you had misheard her but she was already sliding a crisp black credit card into the frat boys hand, with her eyes locked onto him.
He was incredibly handsome, wearing a backward baseball cap and a tight fitted tee with a name tag that said Jake pinned to his chest pocket. He looked up with a perfectly practiced frat boy smile spreading across his face as he took her card. "A hundred? Wow. Someone's trying to guarantee a win today."
"Well, hopefully," the girl giggled and fluttered her eyelashes. "I'm really hoping I win you, Jakey. I already planned our whole date."
Jake didn't miss a beat. He chuckled in an indulgent way that clearly showed he was used to this kind of attention every single day. He leaned in a little closer to her as his eyes gleamed with a playful but highly effective charm. "Is that so? Well, the odds are pretty competitive this year. Tell you what...maybe you should buy another fifty just to make absolutely sure. Give yourself that extra edge."
You watched in stunned silence as the girl didn't even hesitate. "You know what? You're totally right! Make it one hundred and fifty," she said, nodding eagerly as if he had just given her real financial advice.
You couldn’t stop your mouth from actually falling open. Your jaw was practically dropping to the grass as you did the mental math, one single raffle ticket was ten dollars. Ten dollars. That meant she had just casually dropped fifteen hundred dollars on a piece of plastic and a tiny slip of paper, all for a chance to go to dinner with a guy in a baseball cap.
One thousand five hundred dollars, you thought, staring at the back of her head in utter disbelief. That was insane work, a level of wealth and obsession that completely threw your brain offline and reminded you exactly what kind of madness this fraternity generated on campus.
"There you go, sweet thing," Jake said, with a smooth voice as he slid a clipboard and a pen across the table toward the girl. "Just write down your dorm, room number and your phone number right there. You know, so we can find you when your name gets drawn."
While she eagerly grabbed the pen, your eyes shifted to the guy standing directly to Jake’s left. He was leaning his hip slightly against the edge of the table with his arms crossed over a crisp white and blue jersey. The energy radiating off him was nothing short of pure amusement, he was watching the girl sign her money away with a look that said he knew exactly what kind of power the Enhyphi boys wielded in this school. It was written all over his face, like this effortless and teasing satisfaction that they could just flash a handsome smile and convince a student to drop a small fortune for a mere chance at their attention.
Finally, the girl scooped up her massive stack of blue slips, gave Jake one last lingering wave and stepped away.
Your chest tightened a bit as you took a half step forward, suddenly under the bright canopy of the tent.
"Hey there, gorgeous. Welcome to—" Jake started, letting his customer service smile snap back into place as he reached for a fresh roll of tickets.
But he didn't get to finish, the guy to his left suddenly moved and cut Jake off entirely. Standing closer to the table now, the bright afternoon light caught the sharp and impossibly symmetrical lines of his face and you instantly recognized him—It was Kim Sunoo and the small, silver rimmed name tag pinned to his jersey confirmed it, though his striking cat like eyes and flawless complexion were already a staple of campus gossip.
Without breaking eye contact with you, Sunoo smoothly extended an arm and subtly shoved Jake backward by the shoulder. It wasn't aggressive though, it was just a dominant but seamless reclamation of the counter space that sent Jake stumbling back a step with a startled mutter.
Sunoo rested his hands on the table and shifted in just a fraction. The teasing smirk he had been wearing a second ago quickly melted away and now he had a remarkably warm gentle smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Hi," Sunoo murmured, his voice was surprisingly deep and grounding amidst the blaring music of the quad. "How many tickets can I get for you today?"
A sudden wave of shyness washed over you, making your fingers feel a little stiff as you reached into your purse to pull out a single ten dollar bill. Holding it out to him, you immediately felt incredibly small and acutely aware of the fact that the girl before you had just dropped a literal rent payment while you were standing here with the bare minimum.
"Just...one, please," you said softly, offering him a polite smile and hoping that would make him decide not to make fun of you. But you braced yourself for what you considered the inevitable anyway, you fully expected Sunoo to glance over his shoulder at Jake, share a silent joke and laugh at your expense, so you were practically bracing your shoulders to take the hit of their collective judgment, completely aware of how your wrinkled ten dollar bill would be a drop in the ocean of how much they made today alone.
But to your surprise, the mockery never came.
Instead, Sunoo’s neat fingers brushed against yours as he took the bill with his touch entirely too gentle. He slid a single blue paper ticket into your hand and never once let his feline eyes waver from your face.
"Man," Sunoo murmured, his gaze locked entirely on your face while he addressed his fraternity brother. "I think the universe is really looking out for us this year. All the prettiest girls on campus are buying tickets."
The unapologetic weight of his stare made it perfectly clear who he was talking about, he wasn't looking at the crowd or at Jake. He was looking at you.
And that made a sudden wave of flustered energy rush through your whole body. Your brain completely short circuited under the intensity of his undivided attention and when you opened your mouth to give a standard response, the words caught in your throat.
"I—uh—t-thank you," you stammered, the words tumbling out in a disjointed stutter.
Jake raised a sharp eyebrow from behind Sunoo and knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his lips as he watched your composure completely unravel.
Sunoo on the other hand, just let out an incredibly sweet chuckle that made his eyes crinkle at the corners again as he tapped the clipboard resting on the table. "Just write down your information right here, beautiful. Don't forget your dorm number."
Your fingers felt entirely too clumsy as you snatched up the pen, your handwriting coming out slightly shakier than usual while you quickly scribbled down your name, phone number and room details. The second the pen left the paper, you clutched your single blue slip tightly in your palm and offered both boy a breathless nod, before practically sprinting away into the safety of the campus crowd to escape the heavy warmth of Sunoo's gaze tracking your every step.
And as you walked away, all you could think about was how you’d never felt anything like that in your life. Even your high school crushes and exes hadn’t made you feel the way Sunoo had just made you feel in that moment.
A week and some days passed rapidly and the energy of the fundraiser quickly fell into the background of your memory. Your routine swallowed you whole again, ever unchanged and steady. You attended your lectures, ate your meals at the campus diner or your room and spent hours buried in your textbooks. The only real highlight of the last couple of days had been a video call with your cousin and you described the absolute circus of the frat festival, specifically the girl dropping fifteen hundred dollars on raffle tickets, she had let out a dramatic groan through the screen.
"Nothing like that ever happens here," she had whined and face planted into her pillow. "I wish I went to your school. My campus is a literal graveyard of joy."
You had laughed loudly and shook your head at her. "Ilham, you go to an ivy league, shut up. You're literally going to be a millionaire and I’m going to live off you."
She had just rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed by her own prestige, before your conversation drifted into lighter gossip.
Now, it was finally Friday night—your favorite night of the week and the bliss of a completely clear schedule was yours to enjoy. All your assignments were submitted, your technical labs were done and you were a full week ahead in all your classes. There was zero academic pressure weighing on your shoulders. You were freshly showered with your skin warm and smelling of your favorite body wash, dressed in a new pajama set. You’d gone all out to make this a cozy night in by also splurging on some new quality sheets. A heavy bag of takeout had just been delivered to your door and the mouth watering scent of your favorite cheat meal was already filling the small space of your dorm room.
You crawled onto your bed, propping your pillows up against the wall and opened your laptop to load up Off Campus, fully prepared to lose yourself in the scenes of the new show because Garrett Graham and Hannah Wells had completely stolen your heart over the last few days. You were entirely ready to unwind, isolate yourself from the rest of the university and do absolutely nothing for the next forty eight hours.
But the exact second you picked up your chopsticks and you were just about to take your first bite, a clear knock echoed against the wood of your dorm door, catching you completely off guard. You froze with your chopstick full of noodles halfway to your mouth, your brows furrowed as you stared confused at the solid wood of the door.
It was really surprising, mostly because your dorm room wasn't exactly a high traffic social hub. No one really ever came to visit you unannounced, especially not on a Friday night.
Your mind immediately began to spin, racking your brain for anyone who could possibly be standing on the other side of the door. Was it your lab partner? maybe realizing you needed to re do a circuit calculation? Or was it your mom dropping off a surprise care package? No she would’ve called you before she even got on the freeway. Or had your cousin somehow broken out of her college an hour to show up at your door as a surprise? No cause Ilham was bad at keeping surprises a secret. None of the answers made an ounce of sense, so you figured it was probably just your RA doing a routine floor check or a fellow student from your floor looking to borrow a cup of ice or some laundry detergent.
You set your chopsticks down on the edge of the takeout container and exhaled a puzzled sigh as you slid off the bed. You unlocked the door with a quiet click and pulled it open, the greeting already dying in your throat before it could even cross your lips because standing in the dim lighting of your dorm hallway was Kim Sunoo.
He was looking devastatingly handsome, his appearance just as sharp and perfectly put together just as it had been on the quad days ago. He was leaning slightly against the doorframe with a gentle expression on his face, completely contradicting the chaotic fraternity world he belonged. Your brain pulled a complete blank with the absurdity of the visual failing to register in any way. Of all the people you had guessed during those few seconds of walking to the door, the literal campus sweetheart was nowhere near the list.
You blinked and darted your eyes past his shoulder to the door on your left, then to the one on your right, fully expecting to see a frantic student waving him down, telling him he was at the wrong door. There was no way he was actually standing outside your room.
Looking back at him, you cleared your throat. "Are you...lost?"
Sunoo let out a thoroughly amused chuckle, his shoulders shifting slightly as he shook his head. "No, I'm pretty sure I have the right room. I'm here to take you on your date."
"What date?" you asked, feeling your brain completely stall.
"The raffle?" Sunoo prompted, tilting his head with a small smile. "From last week? You bought a ticket."
Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a physical slap. It all came rushing back in a tidal wave and your jaw nearly dropped for the second time that week. You had actually won?
"Wait," you stammered, gripping the edge of the door a little tighter. "If I won, why didn't anyone text or call me first? You can't just show up at someone's dorm."
"I did," Sunoo said, pulling his phone from his pocket and tapping the screen before turning it toward you. A thread of unanswered green text messages and a missed call to your number stared back at you. "You never responded. Honestly, I was starting to get a little worried, so I decided to just come and check up on you myself."
A heavy wave of panic set in, leading you to take a deliberate step back into your room, trying to retreat into the safe sanctuary of it while keeping the door between you.
"Look, Sunoo, there’s been a mistake," you said quickly, raising your hands up in a defensive gesture. "I didn't actually intend on winning. I only bought that ticket because of the charity, literally just to donate. You should just take this opportunity to go out with a girl who actually wants to go or someone you really like. Basically...I'm just not interested."
Sunoo’s smile completely dropped and his lower lip pushing out into an exaggerated pout that looked entirely too endearing on his pretty face. The clear divide between his usual polished persona and this sudden, puppyish disappointment was deeply unfair and it almost disarmed you right then and there.
"Are you absolutely sure?" he asked softly, his dark eyes dropping to look down at you through his bottom lashes. He leaned a little closer against the doorframe as a teasing spark returned to his face. "I swear there’s nothing intimidating about me."
"No!" you shot back quickly, feeling flustered at the accusation. You cleared your throat, trying to regain your footing. "No, I'm not intimidated. I'm sure you're very sweet, Sunoo, really. It’s just...I don’t date. At all. So it’s really nothing personal."
The pout returned again, looking even more genuinely upset this time, as if the rejection actually stung him but the heavy cloud faded as quickly as it came and a clever glint took its place.
"You don't date at all?" he repeated and you couldn’t help but notice how incredibly persuasive his voice was. "Here’s the thing, I already paid for the reservation and the money already went to the clinic anyway. You’re just going to sit in here and eat by yourself on a Friday night? Why not think of it as a free and incredibly high quality meal with zero strings attached. If I’m completely boring, you can walk out after the appetizer. Deal?"
He offered you that warm, genuine smile again—the same one that had disarmed you at the raffle booth. There was no arrogance in his pitch, just an incredibly sweet charm that made your flat rejection feel entirely unnecessary.
"What do you mean you already paid for a reservation? I thought the dates were fully customizable. What if I want to go to an arcade or something?"
That seemed to catch him off guard as his eyes widened and he scratched the back of his neck. "Okay, maybe I got a little too eager when your ticket number got pulled from my pool."
"You got eager?" You titled your head at him, not fully understanding his words.
"Okay, let's reset," he murmured, sneakily avoiding your question, his voice dropped into a gentle cadence. "Forget the reservation. What’s your absolute favorite thing to do? Or your favorite place to eat around campus? We can just do that. No pressure or awkward small talk. Just two people hanging out, so it’s not really like a date date at all."
You looked back at your laptop screen, then back at his expectant face and found your defenses crumbling. Somehow, without even really trying hard, he seemed to be talking you right out of your own room.
The rigid walls you had built up over the last three years began to feel incredibly fragile under his steady stare. You looked down at your socks and a sudden thought popped into your head. There was this one legendary but incredibly elusive pop up taco place just off campus, they only opened on Friday nights and the line was notoriously brutal, always stretching from sunrise to sunset and making it nearly impossible for a busy student like you to catch them.
"Well..." you started hesitantly as you looked back up at him. "There's this pop up taco place down on the corner of this busy street two blocks outside campus. It's only there on Fridays but the queue is always insane. I've been wanting to—"
Before you could even finish describing the tiny pop up truck and the chaotic crowds, Sunoo’s entire face lit up.
"Wait, are you talking about the pop up on third street?" He interrupted with his eyes wide and glittering. "The one with the handmade corn tortillas and the lime marinated flank steak?"
You instantly lit up as well, your initial shyness completely forgotten as your eyes matched his excitement. "Yes! Exactly that one! Oh my god, I love their tacos so much but I’ve only ever managed to actually wait out the line and eat them once since I started school here."
"Well, you are in luck," he said, reaching for his phone again with an effortless flourish. "The family that runs that truck? Their oldest son is literally one of my closest friends from high school. I have his mom's number." He unlocked his screen, opening his contacts as he looked back at you with such a persuasive warmth. "Give me two minutes to make a quick phone call and I can guarantee we skip that entire line and get a fresh batch handed straight to us. What do you say?"
The sheer temptation of those tacos, combined with the utterly charming way he had just destroyed your entire defense, left you completely putty in his hands. You looked down at your pajamas and let out defeated laugh. He had really done it, he’d smoothly and flawlessly convinced you to go on this hot date date with him
"Give me fifteen minutes," you said, another laugh escaping you as you gestured down at your clothes. "Let me change out of these."
Sunoo’s smile widened, obviously satisfied with his victory. He stepped back from the threshold, giving you a little more breathing room, even though his eyes still held that magnetic pull. "Take your time, beautiful. I’ll be waiting in my car right out front, it's a black sedan parked by the main curb."
With a final smile, he turned and strolled down the hall, casually tucking his hands back into his pockets.
You closed the door, listening to the click of the lock echo in the suddenly quiet room, your heart was thumping a little faster than usual in your chest.
How did I let a fraternity boy talk me out of my Friday night takeout plans in less than five minutes? You shook your head but a helpless smile tugged at your lips as you walked over to your closet.
Sliding the wardrobe doors open, you stared at your hangers, suddenly hit with the classic dilemma—what do you wear to a non date that is secretly totally want to be a date?
It was just a casual taco pop up, so turning up in a dress or anything overly formal would look like you were trying way too hard. But you also couldn't go out with Kim Sunoo, who looked like he stepped out of a clothing ad even in a casual jersey wearing your oversized hoodie.
You combed through your options, cringing as your fingers brushed past your heavy workshop overalls. You wanted something that felt effortless but still pulled together and in the end you settled for your favorite pair denim shorts and a cropped knit sweater.
You looked at yourself in the mirror and convinced yourself it was cute enough, like you looked liked you just threw it on while secretly hoping you actually looked good enough to stand next to him.
It was the perfect balance of cute and comfortable enough for eating tacos on a Friday night. You quickly patted your cheeks and let out a grounding breath to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach.
It's just a casual hang out, you reminded yourself, pointing a finger at your reflection. Just a free meal with a really hot guy who’s not even into girls. No big deal.
With your phone and keys tucked safely into your shoulder bag, you locked up your room and headed down the stairwell. The cool evening air hit your face the second you stepped out of the building's main entrance and your eyes instantly searched the curb.
As he said, a polished black sedan was parked right under the street light and he was leaning back against the driver's side door, with the bright blue light of his phone screen illuminating the soft lines of his handsome face as his thumbs flew across the keyboard.
It was almost like he possessed some kind of sixth sense because before your sneakers even cleared the bottom step of the concrete entryway, his head snapped up and second his eyes found you, a wide smile broke across his face. He slid his phone into his back pocket, allowing his focus to take you in from head to toe with an appreciative twinkle that made you feel shy all over again.
"Look at you," Sunoo said softly as he stepped away from the car. "I really like that sweater on you."
Before you could stumble over a response or let out another nervous stutter, he was already rounding the hood of the car with a confident stride, he reached out to grasp the handle of the passenger door and pulled it wide open for you. He bowed his head slightly, carrying a gentlemanly smirk on his lips as he gestured for you to step inside.
The interior of his car smelled faintly of expensive cologne and clean leather. As soon as Sunoo slipped into the driver's seat and started the engine, the smooth hum of the car filled the space. He shifted into drive and navigated away from your dorm with one hand casually resting on the bottom of the steering wheel.
"Alright, so mission taco is officially a go," he said, casting a quick glance your way. "I called up my friend's mom while you were getting changed and told me to just walk right up to the truck when we get there."
"Wow, look at you with the vip connections," you said, a soft laugh leaving you before you smiled at him. "That's actually amazing, thank you."
"Hey, I take my taco promises very seriously," he teased.
As he drove, he kept the conversation completely effortless and breezy. He asked about your classes and how your semester was going, he wanted to know what you usually did to unwind when you weren't buried in schoolwork. Every time the car came to a halt at a red light, he would turn his head completely to look at you, giving you his undivided attention while you spoke.
Up close like this, you found yourself getting entirely too distracted. There was something undeniably captivating about the way he drove, it was with this relaxed surety exuding from him, the easy going grip of his hand on the wheel that almost made him seem straight. There was a level of magnetic assurance that was deeply attractive to you and you felt a sudden warmth pooling in your stomach, very turned on by how smoothly he carried himself.
Before you could get too lost in your thoughts, he pulled the car into a gravel parking lot and the tires crunched to a stop.
You hadn't been to this spot in months and it had completely transformed. Instead of just the lone taco truck you remembered, the lot had turned into a bustling night market. A variety of different food trucks were parked in a wide circle, each one serving up something different like gourmet sliders to churros. In the center, string lights were draped overhead attached to poles, casting a golden glow over a cluster of wooden tables and chairs. The air was thick with the delicious scent of grilled meats and spices, and the whole space was humming with the lively sounds of laughter and chatter blended with the sizzle of food hitting hot flat tops.
Sunoo killed the engine and hopped out, making sure he opened the door for you before you could even reach for your handle, just like he did the first time.
He casually led the way through the crowd, walking with an innate authority that easily cleared a path for the two of you. As expected, his friend’s family truck had the most brutal line in the entire lot, weaving halfway down the block. But Sunoo didn't even hesitate when he walked you straight past the waiting crowd, heading right up to the order window at the front.
The middle aged woman working the window was in the middle of counting change but the very beat she looked up and spotted his face, her eyes creased with immediate fondness.
"Oh, Sunoo, darling! Look at you!" she exclaimed in a voice brimming with genuine affection. "It is so good to see you, sweet boy!"
"Hi, Auntie," Sunoo smiled at her, propping his elbows against the counter with a respectful tilt of his head. "It's so good to see you too. How has business been tonight? Looks like you're completely crushing it."
"Oh, you know how it is, always busy, always crazy!" she laughed, waving a hand in the air before pointing her thumb toward the back of the truck. "Go on, head right around to the back door. The boys are back there."
"Thank you, Auntie," Sunoo smiled and turned back to you, an all too aware spark in his eyes as he took your wrist and led you around the side of the vehicle.
He pulled open the back door of the food truck, stepping into the heat and steam of the kitchen space, bringing you right along with him. The second you stepped inside, another man working the prep line looked up from the grill. His face split into a massive grin the moment he recognized Sunoo.
"Look who it is! Sunbun! Timed that perfectly, man," he yelled over the hiss of the meat, immediately reaching over to the counter and scooping up a heavy brown paper box. He handed it straight to Sunoo and the cardboard was already venting an absolutely incredible aroma of fresh cilantro and perfectly seasoned meat. "Fresh off the grill. Enjoy, baby."
Sunoo turned to you with a bright grin, lifting the heavy brown paper box in the air like a trophy. "Tada!"
You couldn't help but let out a loud laugh and clap your hands at the ease with which he had bypassed a two hour line. Seeing your reaction, Sunoo immediately placed his free hand over his chest and bent at the waist, performing a dramatic faux bow as if he were a classical performer thanking a stadium crowd.
"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," he joked as his eyes danced with endearing humor.
He led the way back out into the center of the gravel lot, threading through the lively buzz and the warm glow of the string lights until he found an empty wooden table near the edge. He pulled out a stool for you, gesturing for you to take a seat. "Wait right here for a minute. I'm going to grab us something to drink."
"Sure," you smiled before settling into the chair and watching him walk off into the crowd.
True to his word, he was back within less than five minutes, carrying two large plastic cups filled with a pale yellow liquid. "Here you go. The truck two down has the absolute best lemonade in the city. Trust me on this."
You took a sip from the straw immediately and the refreshing balance of sweet and tart hit your tongue. You let out an appreciative hum, nodding in total agreement with. "Oh wow. You weren't lying, that really is incredible lemonade."
"Told you," he said, looking incredibly pleased with himself as he sat down opposite you.
He was being completely gentlemanly, taking charge of the setup so you wouldn't have to lift a finger. He carefully unlatched the cardboard tabs of the large paper box, folding the lid back to reveal a stunning arrangement of street tacos, stacked closely together and piled high with finely diced onions and vibrant wedges of lime. Sunoo picked up one of the amazing looking tacos, supporting the double corn tortilla expertly and set it right in front of you on a clean napkin.
You clasped your hands together in pure anticipation, your mouth practically watering from the rich aroma wafting up from the table.
You picked it up, squeezed a bit of lime juice over the top and took a generous bite. The flavor was an absolute explosion—the perfectly seasoned meat melted in your mouth, perfectly cut by the sharp onion and fresh herb. You instantly closed your eyes and let out a blissful sigh of pure contentment as you chewed.
When you finally opened your eyes, you looked across the table at him, your expression full of real gratitude. "Sunoo, seriously...thank you so much. This is amazing."
Sunoo let out a soft laugh as he watched you savor the food with such intense appreciation. "You look like you just had a religious experience," he teased gently, his eyes glued to your happy expression for a second longer before he picked up a taco of his own. "Alright, let's see if it lives up to my memory."
It did.
You chewed your taco and nodded along as Sunoo delved into the most ridiculous story about an incident at the frat house involving a lost mascot costume and three gallons of neon green punch. His storytelling was animated and his hands moved to punctuate the jokes, you actually found yourself laughing so hard you had to set your drink down to keep from spilling it.
Slowly, the laughter died down into a comfortable silence. You took a sip of your lemonade, allowing your eyes to drop to the table as a thought that had been lingering in the back of your mind for months resurfaced.
Sunoo seemed to be incredibly perceptive, he tilted his head and set his taco down on his napkin, his sharp eyes tracking the sudden shift in your expression.
"What?" he asked with curious smile dancing on his lips. "You got so quiet all of a sudden. I can practically hear your gears turning from over here."
You hesitated while rolling the plastic straw between your fingers before looking up at him. "Can I ask you something? Safely?"
"Sure," he murmured, resting his forearms on the table, completely intrigued.
"Well..." you started, clearing your throat slightly. "I kind of...always thought you were gay. And honestly, I always wondered why the frat wouldn't just put your name exclusively in the guy's ticket pool. You know, since guys buy tickets too. That way the gay ticket buyers on campus could actually end up with the gay guys from your fraternity."
Sunoo blinked, he appeared to be completely caught off guard for a little over a second before an amused laugh bubbled out of him. He shook his head and shifted slightly back in his chair.
"Ah, campus rumors," he chuckled. "Well first of all, I'm not gay. I'm bisexual. And second of all...my name is in both pools. If a guy's ticket had been drawn, I'd be out here eating tacos with him instead."
Oh.
You felt heat in your chest at the correction. "Oh. Right. But..." You squinted at him, trying to piece together the gossip you'd overheard all over campus in the last year. "I thought you were dating that hot guy, Sunghoon? Isn't that why everyone thought that?"
The second the words left your mouth, Sunoo's entire demeanor shifted into nothing short of unfiltered mischief. The cat like smirk returned to his face full force and his eyes flashed with a sudden, teasing energy.
"Oh?" Sunoo purred, shifting back over the table, his tone lowered. "You think Sunghoon is hot?"
Your heart did a quick flip in your chest. "No! I mean—that's not what I—" You completely fumbled, using your hands to wave wildly in the air as you tried to backtrack. "I didn't mean it like that!"
"Is Sunghoon your type?" Sunoo pressed further, not even trying to hide the delighted grin blooming across his face as he watched your composure disintegrate entirely.
"No, no, no," you repeated quickly, shaking your head so hard your hair flew across your face.
"Why not?" he teased more, resting his chin in his hand, like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. He was clearly enjoying every single second of seeing you so flustered. "You literally just called him a hot guy. Don't take it back now."
"Well, yes! Because Sunghoon is objectively hot!" you defended yourself, your face burning as you tried to logic your way out of the trap. "Like, just biologically. Everyone on campus talks about how good looking he is and honestly, everyone also talks about the two of you together."
Sunoo gave you a satisfied hum and his teasing expression softened just a fraction into something more sincere, though the playful glint in his eyes remained.
"Well, everyone on campus is slightly behind on the news," Sunoo said, taking a slow sip of his lemonade. "Sunghoon and I were dating. Past tense. But that's completely over now." He set his cup down and shifted his eyes back onto yours with an undivided intensity that made the surrounding night life noise fade away. "Like I said...I'm bisexual. Not gay. And right now, I'm entirely single and I'm sitting here with you."
"Okay, fair enough," you mumbled, trying to process the revelation about him and Sunghoon while taking another bite of your taco to give your hands something to do.
Sunoo watched you chew, a soft smile lingering on his lips before he rested his chin on his palm. "So, answer me this. Why did you choose this year to finally buy a raffle ticket? What changed?"
You arched an eyebrow at him. "How do you know I haven't bought one in previous years? Maybe I've been a loyal supporter of your fraternity's fundraising efforts all along."
Sunoo rolled his eyes and let a dramatic huff escape him. "Please. I've worked that booth every single spring since I was a freshman. If you had stepped up to my table before, trust me, I would have noticed you."
The absolute certainty in his voice made a familiar warmth fill your stomach. To hide it, you cleared your throat and decided to just give him the real answer, telling him all about Ilham’s mum—your aunt, how much she struggled and eventually passed away. So this year, the specific charity they were sponsoring actually hit incredibly close to home for you. You explained that you usually avoided the chaos of greek life events on the quad but seeing that specific foundation on the flyer made you want to drop at least a little bit of money to support it.
Sunoo's playful demeanor softened completely as you spoke. He listened intently and nodded in true understanding of your reason, his eyes reflected a gentle empathy that felt worlds away from his usual persona.
"Your aunt would’ve been really proud of you. That's really sweet," he said softly when you finished. "It makes sense why you wanted to chip in." Then, a coy smile made its way to his mouth again and his eyes twinkled with mischief. "But...why didn't last year's charity hit close to home? If I remember correctly, the proceeds went to the local veterinary clinic. And didn't you spend almost your entire sophomore year volunteering there?"
You froze, pausing your cup of lemonade halfway to your lips to stare at him, your brain entirely shutting down and rebooting in such a short amount of time, all because you were trying to figure out how on earth Kim Sunoo, a guy who lived in a perfectly different social stratosphere than you, knew such an obscure detail about your sophomore year schedule.
"Wait," you stammered, setting the cup down with a sharp click. "How do you even know that? I barely told my own friends I was volunteering there."
Sunoo's confident expression suddenly faltered and for the first time all night, his cool, unbothered exterior cracked just a little. He quickly looked away from you and his eyes darted to the string lights overhead. And then he took an oddly intense interest in adjusting the plastic straw in his drink while a faint pink hue began to dust the tips of his ears.
"I mean..." he mumbled, his voice dropping into a slightly defensive tone as he refused to meet your eyes. "I just...I saw you there. A couple of times. It's not a big deal."
Seeing the faint pink tint on his ears, you decided to show him some mercy and not press any further. You let out a knowing hum and let the subject drop, allowing the tension to melt back into the comfortable rhythm you'd been building all night.
"Actually...I have something else to ask you." You said, to which he tilted his head and gave you a welcoming nod.
"Go ahead. I'm an open book."
You held back for a bit then just came out with it. "Why are you even in a frat? I don't know, I guess I've just never thought it really fit your personality."
He shook his head a little, looking down at his food for a moment. "They're not all bad," he said, a slightly defensive but entirely fond note entering his voice as he gestured vaguely with one hand. "They're actually really great guys. I know there are a lot of stereotypes about frat guys and trust me, I do get why people think that way. But for me, it was different."
He hesitated and you watched his expression turn unusually grounded, very different to his normal bright demeanor. "Throughout high school, I didn't really have friends. Not real ones, anyway."
Your eyebrows knit together in genuine surprise before you could stop them. You stared at him, feeling thrown off by the admission. Sunoo was effortlessly charismatic, he was the kind of person who seemed like he would have been at the absolute center of every social circle since childhood. "Wait, really?" you blurted out, unable to hide your surprise. "No way. You seem like you would've been the most popular guy in school."
Sunoo offered a little cynical smile and waved off the compliment with a quiet sigh. "People liked being around me, sure but it wasn't real. It was just a lot of people who wanted to use me for stuff. For status or even favors, whatever. I was always super aware of it."
He cleared his throat then, his expression softened significantly like a warmer memory was taking over. "Until I met Jake and Jay. They were a year above me in school and they were just...the best. They didn't want anything from me cause they genuinely liked having me around. They looked out for me when they didn't have to." Sunoo smiled. "So, I kind of just followed them to the same college when I graduated. They were already sophomores in the frat so I just did what felt natural and joined too. They're my family."
You smiled gently, "That's really sweet," you said to him, looking at him with a newfound appreciation for the loyalty he held for his friends.
From there, the conversation drifted into much lighter waters. Sunoo opened up to you and casually shared the story of coming out as bisexual to his family when he was only fourteen. He told you all about how dramatic he had made the whole ordeal, only for his mom to look up from her cooking and tell him she already knew.
In return, you found yourself sharing things you rarely talked about with people from your school. You told him all about your absolute love for baking, your eyes lighting up as you described your dream of moving out of the dorms next year into a small apartment with a proper kitchen so you could finally start a small baking business.
"You're actually adorable, you know that?" he whispered so softly, you almost didn’t hear him but you did and it made your heart do another violent flip.
Before you even realized how much time had passed, the taco box was completely empty, so were the lemonade cups was and thankfully, the initial awkwardness of the evening had completely evaporated into shared jokes and easy laughter. You casually checked your phone to glance at the time and your eyes widened.
"Oh wow, it's really late," you commented, showing him the screen. "We've been sitting here for hours."
Sunoo glanced at your phone and nodded, a look of faint disappointment crossing his face before he caught himself. "Yeah, you're right. I should probably get you back before the dorm doors do their late night lockdown."
The moment you both stepped back into the quiet interior of his car, you couldn’t help but notice how the atmosphere had definitely shifted. The talkative dynamic you had shared at the table was now replaced by a heavy silence. The drive back to your building felt incredibly tense for absolutely no reason and every time he shifted gears or his hand brushed near the center console, a sharp spike of awareness shot through you. You felt completely squirmy in his passenger seat, only able to shift your weight and stare out the window to hide the fact that your chest was tight and your skin felt entirely too warm.
When he finally pulled up to the curb of your building, he didn't just let you get out. He killed his engine and walked you all the way inside, taking the stairs up in a charged quiet until you were standing right back in front of your room.
You turned around to face him, nervously clutching your bags at your shins. "Well...thank you for tonight, Sunoo. Seriously. I really, really had fun."
Sunoo took a deliberate step closer, the space between you shrinking instantly as the quiet of the hallway wrapped around you. "So," he started, allowing his voice to drop into that magnetic register. "Would you want to do this again?"
You swallowed hard and felt your back nearly pressed against the door. Needing a moment to ground yourself, you reached behind your back, slid your key into the lock, and pushed the door open slightly. But when you turned your head back to answer him, he had closed the remaining distance. He was standing even closer now and the faint scent of his cologne was enveloping your senses.
"Sure," you said shyly, the word barely a breathy whisper.
Sunoo hummed a little amused, a slow smirk playing on his lips as his eyes dropped to your mouth before rising back to yours. "And will you actually reply to my texts this time, angel?"
Your throat felt too dry and your brain was lagging so badly that you couldn't even form real words. All you could manage was a tight nod of your head.
His eyes shifted as satisfaction rippling through his expression. He leaned down even further until his face was only inches from yours and all you heard was a barely audible whisper—"Can I...?" Before his soft lips pressed against yours.
The touch made your heart start to beat so fast, you thought you would have a heart attack. You let eyes flutter shut but after a breathless moment, you gently broke the contact for a mere second to open your eyes and look directly into his hooded ones. The sheer desire reflecting back at you was all it took before you were the one closing the gap and capturing his lips again, this time, the kiss completely shifted.
It became deeper instantly, so urgent and hungry that he let out a growl in his throat as his warm hands came up to securely grip your waist and pull you flush against his chest. You threw your arms around his neck in return and buried your fingers in the soft hairs at the nape of his neck to pull him even closer. His tongue smoothly invaded your mouth, parting your lips with an effortless dominance that made a weak whimper leave you. God—he was a devastatingly good kisser.
Sunoo tore his lips away from yours with a breathless sound, only to immediately bury his face in the crook of your neck, planting hot kisses and sucking down the sensitive skin of your throat, his grip tightening as he anchored your body to his. Your breath hitched completely when you felt his fingers slide smoothly beneath the hem of your sweater, his bare palm making direct contact with the skin of your waist.
A sharp gasp ripped from your lungs at the quick intensity of it. "W-wait," you stammered, your hands shifting to press against his shoulders. "Sunoo, wait—"
The moment the words left your mouth, he stopped and took a step back completely, lifting his hands from your waist in a respectful, immediate retreat, even though his chest was heaving just as violently as yours was.
You leaned against the doorframe for support, feeling your chest get hot and your mind spinning. "We...we should probably stop," you panted, trying to find your bearings.
Sunoo nodded his head in immediate agreement, his own breath coming out in hot shallow pants as he tried to regain his composure. He cleared his throat and tried to form an earnest smile on his pretty face. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. I should...I should definitely take you on another proper date before we take things any farther than…than this."
But it was like your body wasn't listening to common sense anymore. You were so intensely turned on, feeling the blood rush so loudly in your ears, that you could barely even process the words coming out of his mouth. The residual heat of his hand under your sweater and the sweet taste of him on your tongue had completely reconstructed your brain.
Before you could talk yourself out of it, you shot your hand forward to grip the front of his jacket. With a sudden burst of confidence, you firmly hauled him forward, pulling him right over the threshold and into your room.
Sunoo let out a startled oof as his shoes stumbled over the entryway but the second the heavy door slammed shut behind him and locked with a loud click, any remaining hesitation vanished from both of you. He didn't say a single word, all he could do was simply back you straight into the nearest solid wall, using his hand to grip your jawline as he crashed his lips back onto yours, deeper and way more starved than before.
You toed off your sneakers and the shoes clattered forgotten against the carpet while his fingers were making their way down the front of your sweater. He popped open the buttons one by one and you quickly shrugged the heavy fabric off your shoulders, leaving you in nothing but your thin camisole. Through it all, your lips never left his and the kiss grew deeper, wetter too.
You didn’t even get the chance to gasp and look up at him again, he had hooked his hands securely underneath the jacks of your thighs. He gave a firm tug upward, prompting you to instinctively jump so he could have your legs wrapped tightly around his waist. When he tore his mouth from yours, he went straight for your neck again but this time he didn't stop there. He slid his lips further down, dragging searing kisses across your collarbone and down to your chest, he pressed his mouth right against the exposed curve of your breast above the low neckline of your camisole. A shaky gasp ripped from your throat and you could help the way your fingers tightened in his hair.
The next thing you knew, the room was titling and you were landing softly against the thick comforter of your unmade bed, the impact barely registered because the heat between you both was unyielding.
Sunoo hovered over you for a fraction of a second and his breath came in ragged pants while he quickly stripped off his jacket and tossed it blindly onto the floor. Then he shifted right back down to you, pinning you to the mattress under his weight as he took your lips in another crushing kiss.
As he settled directly between your thighs, he shifted his weight to get closer and that’s when you felt the evident outline of his firming cock pressing through his trousers right between your legs. The slight friction from his movement sent a sweet shiver of heat right to your core, making your hips instinctively twitch up against him as you realized just how far gone he already was for you.
The unexpected fervor of him made your hands frantic, it made you pull your lips away from his with a winded pant, your fingers dropped to his waist to fumble clumsily with the buckle of his belt. He let you try for a brief moment, his chest heaving while he watched your inelegant urgency but as your hands trembled against the leather and iron, a frustrated curse slipped past his lips.
He caught both of your wrists in a firm grip and easily pinned them flat against the mattress over your head with just one hand. The brand new display of dominance made your eyes go wide and your heart hammered against your ribs cause he was hovering over you, completely trapping you beneath his frame.
Using his free hand, he slowly reached down between your bodies. His eyes never left yours and his fingers quickly unbuttoned your jeans and slid the zipper down in one tug. The cool air of the room hit your skin of your belly, making goosebumps spread across your body.
"Lift up," he commanded in a rough mumble.
You arched your back, lifting your hips off the comforter to help him push the denim down your legs, then Sunoo move his weight to the side just enough to let you kick the trousers off, discarding them onto the floor along with his own shoes and jacket.
He slid back between your thighs, resting on his knees to drop his gaze down your body. The thin fabric of your panties was already soaking through, clinging to your skin and showing him the folds of your pussy. Sunoo let out a ragged sigh that was filled with both desire and restraint at the sight.
He looked back up and let his eyes bore into yours. "Talk to me, angel." He whispered, "Tell me what you want me to do to you."
Your eyes went wide as orbs in a flash of shock, you were way too shy and way too overwhelmed by the tension of Kim Sunoo commanding you like this to actually force the words out of your mouth.
Instead of speaking, you broke your hands free from his lingering grip and he let go to let you reach down to hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties, you slid them down your legs slowly. With your whole body feeling like it was on fire and your breath stumbling in your chest, you slowly spread your knees wider right in front of him, using your fingers to gently part the folds of your pussy, exposing your aching cunt directly to his weighted eyes.
Something so hungry settled behind his eyes the second you open yourself up to him, the utter vulnerability of your gesture struck him like a sucker punch and without a word, he reached forward, using his hands to grip the hem of your camisole and slide it up and over your head in one fluid motion, just to toss it away. Your bra followed a second later, the clasp quickly giving way under his expert fingers, the air hitting your skin made your nipples harden but the chill didn't last because Sunoo leaned down and his hot breath fanned across your chest before he pressed a soft kiss to the crest of your right breast. He moved to the left and opened his mouth to securely wrap it around your nipple, he sucked it deep into his mouth, using his tongue to swirl aggressively around the sensitive bud before giving it an intentional nip with his teeth.
A broken gasp tore from your throat, your fingers instantly tangled into the locks on his head, trying to push him closer as your hips twitched off the mattress. "Sunoo—ah," you whimpered.
He gave a low grunt against your skin, clearly pleased by your reaction, he slowly began to work his way down your body. He dragged his lips down the center of your stomach, making his tongue trace a hot line over your ribs, when he got to your navel, he placed a kiss next to it, then placed one on the soft skin of your lower abdomen. Every brush of his mouth was mind numbingly slow but it was building an unbearable tension in the quiet room and you were practically twisting beneath him, just eager for him to reach the ache between your thighs.
When he finally eased between your knees and his handsome face hovered mere inches from your wetness. He leaned in to plant gentle kisses along the sensitive crease of your thigh, making you squirm violently cause your anticipation reached a fever pitch.
He mumbled something you couldn’t make out but before you could even process it to ask what he’d said, he dived in.
The first touch of his tongue was a broad stroke straight up the center of your folds, using it to part them and bury his face completely in your heat. You let out a shriek of a cry, feeling your toes curl into the comforter while he zeroed in on your clit, his lips puckering around the swollen nub as he sucked it directly into his mouth. He used a firm drag and used his tongue to flick against the tip with so much precision that it threatened to blow your mind.
You were totally defenseless underneath him now, having no control of your hands as they left his hair to pull at your sheets, your hips also mindlessly chased the absurdly perfect pressure of his lips against you.
Just when the pleasure began to tighten into a knot in your stomach, Sunoo shifted and snaked his tongue downward, he drove his tongue deep into your leaky hole, like he was mimicking the hypnotic thrusts of a cock. He buried his tongue deeper inside you, drinking you in as your wetness poured over his lips and curling his tongue to stretch it against your tight walls.
"Sunoo! Sunoo, please!" You moaned out loud before throwing your palm over your mouth to cover it, scared of your floor mates hearing your cries from him driving you closer and closer to the edge.
"Fuck—I love eating pussy." He said, then slowed down to deliver quick kitten licks to your clit, he tilted his face up and when you looked down for a second, all you could see was lust.
"Have you ever been fingered before, angel?" he asked and you felt it vibrate right against you and you could barely think straight, let alone do the math. "I—I'm not a virgin," you tripped over your words carelessly, you felt that shy feeling again as you tried to form another response that would make you sound at least a little experienced and maybe even cool.
Sunoo responded with an amused sound that sent a quiver right through your whole body, then he lifted his hand and used his slender fingers to press right against the tender opening of your throbbing hole, not actually pushing inside yet but just circling it and teasing the tight ring of muscles until you were practically begging for the contact with every shift of your hips.
"Oh yeah?" he purred, continuing to toy with your entrance. "If you're not a virgin, what's your body count then? Hmm? Tell me."
The teasing question combined with the maddeningly slow rub at your pussy was entirely too much to handle, making your hand fly forward to tangle your fingers firmly into the strands of his hair. With a sudden burst of desperate strength, you pushed his face right back down into your cunt, wordlessly demanding the return of his mouth exactly where you wanted it.
Sunoo laughed right against your inner thigh, all too happy with how demanding and overcome you had become under his touch.
"Eager, aren’t we?" He laughed against your skin, the vibration making you twitch.
He didn't make you wait any longer though while his mouth returned to your sensitive nub, taking it again with a firm laps and sucks, he finally stopped the teasing at your hole. Finally, he slid in a lone finger straight inside your tightness.
A mewl escaped your lips as your walls helplessly clenched around him, your hips bucked upward when he buried the finger all the way to his knuckle, stretching you beautifully while his tongue drove you absolutely insane.
Sunoo caught your rhythm instantly, his long finger pumped deep inside your wet heat with a delicious accuracy. He hooked his finger slightly to catch the sensitive ridge inside you, all the while his tongue never relented its rapid flicking against your now swollen clit. The two fold sensation was completely overwhelming, making you shake and cry out his name but he seemed like he wasn't even close to finished.
With an approving grunt against your folds, he pushed a second finger right inside you and launched into a rapid fire pace. He scissored his fingers inside your pussy, bottoming out while his face stayed buried in your heat. With every upward thrust of his fingers, his nose and lips bumped directly against your clit, providing a blunt friction that threatened to push you over the edge of sanity.
"Sunoo—ah! Wait, please, it's too much, I'm gonna—" You moaned out a string of incomprehensible words, your head thrashing wildly against the pillow as your hands finally ripped at your new bedsheets. Your entire body was taut, like a wire stretched to its absolute limit and vibrating with the impending explosion.
Then, right at the peak of your agonizing suspense, this man pulled his fingers completely out of you, making an aching cry slip from your lips at the sudden loss of friction but before you could even open your eyes to complain, his flat palm came down against your soaking wet cunt.
Smack.
The stinging impact carried in the quiet room and sent a deep surge all over your already overstimulated nerves. Before you could even process the sensation, his hand descended twice more in rapid succession.
Smack. Smack.
The quick blend of the sting and the intense bliss completely broke you. A tearful sob of unalloyed ecstasy left you as your lower half convulsed. Your hips locked, bucking high off the mattress into his hand while your walls were clamping down on air.
"No..." Your fingers dug blindly into the now damp comforter as you tried to blink away the tears of overstimulation. He stayed hovered directly over your shaking thighs with a captivated look in his eyes as he looked down at the dripping mess between your legs.
"No?" he echoed your words in a mocking purr. "But you love it. Look at how your pretty little pussy is gushing all over my hand."
"I—it's too much," you gasped out, shaking your head against the pillow, trying to find your words. "Sunoo, please, I can't—"
Your protest was instantly cut off when his hand came down again to give another resonant slap right against your pussy.
Smack.
You couldn’t even register the impact this time before he slid his fingers right back inside you, sinking them in all the way down. "You can't what?" he asked, his thumb pressing hard against your clit while he pushed his fingers in and out. "Tell me exactly what you can't do while I'm inside you like this."
He pumped them once before ripping them completely out again.
Smack.
Another sharp slap drove the breath right out of your lungs. He was creating an intoxicating cycle of fingering you open and slapping your pussy, and it was so deeply consuming that your thighs began to shake. Your muscles were trembling, now unable to support your own weight as you laid there entirely exposed underneath him.
"Please, Sunoo...please," you sobbed out, feeling like you were completely suspended on the edge and desperate for a release that he keeps dangling just out of your reach.
Seeing you almost broken seemed to make him want to push further, even though his expression softened into that familiar, possessive focus, he still managed to tease you. "Aww. You wanna cum?" He asked you, his tone drifted into something thicker with desire. "You want me to make you cum?"
He left his fingers inside you, finally locking into a pace of pumping in and out of your tightness with such a depth that he was hitting that one spot over and over again. His movements were making wet squelch of your pussy fill the room till it was all you could hear.
As your hips blindly chased the rhythm of his hand, Sunoo leaned down and wrapped his plush lips right around your clit which was now even more sensitive from the slaps he’d given it, one more time. He sucked the swollen bead deep into his mouth and that was all it took for him to finally make you cum. You felt your whole body wound tight like a bowstring, your thighs shaking uncontrollably against his shoulders.
"Sunoo! Oh my fucking g—Ah!" You screamed for him into the empty room, crying out a chorus of breathless praises as your walls clenched down on his fingers in tight waves.
Sunoo didn't slow down for a second, all he wanted to do was drink he in your release and he did, using his tongue to lap up your juices while his fingers never stopped pumping inside you, he was deliberately riding you right through every single convulsion of your orgasm until you completely melted into the mattress, panting.
He stayed lingering between your quivering legs while your breathes came out in pants and the aftershocks of your orgasm began the fade. He gave your clit one last soft kiss, making your hips twitch weakly against the mattress, then he planted lingering kisses on the smooth skin of your left inner thigh and then your right, treating your body with a different kind of gentleness, far from how he was just slapping you moments ago.
He adjusted himself until his chin was propped on your lower belly and he was comfortably resting his head right against your thigh. He looked up the entire length of your body but your eyes were closed so tightly that your eyelids were practically vibrating, even your hands were still clutching the pillows.
A soft laugh bubbled out of his chest at the sight. "Mmm," he sounded out, letting it vibrate right against your skin. "Are you going to look at me, angel?"
You swallowed hard and felt the warmth spread deep in your chest, you fluttered your eyes open to look down past your chest, only to find his lidded eyes staring back at you. When your eyes met, an all too satisfied smile broke across his handsome face. He deliberately swiped his tongue over his bottom lip and the corners where your wetness still was, he was tasting you entirely unbothered. "You taste amazing," he told you directly and devoid of any hesitation. "Seriously. Perfect."
The bluntness of his praise made your brain completely melt and you let out an embarrassed groan, throwing your head back against the pillow to intentionally look away toward the ceiling to hide just how flustered he was making you.
But Sunoo was not done teasing you. Seeing your reaction, he moved closer with a serious glint appearing in his eyes. "You know...I can go again right now," he told you so confidently and you knew he wasn't bragging either, the hunger in his expression made it incredibly clear that he was entirely serious and he really, truly did love eating pussy. "I could stay down here all night if you let me."
The thought of enduring all that pleasure with the edging and teasing again when you were already completely spent made a bolt of panic shoot through you. Prior to him even moving a muscle, you quickly scrambled backward up the bed, your hands and knees kicked out as you frantically retreated until your back hit the headboard and you were clutching the comforter to your chest.
Sunoo burst into a loud laugh at your escape, his shoulders shaking as he sat back on his heels, to watch your wide eyed expression with a clearer view. He stretched his arm to pick his jacket off the floor and watching him hold the jacket made a different kind of panic hit you, the sudden worry that he was about to walk out the door made you sit up straighter against the headboard.
"Wait, are you leaving?" you asked, ignoring the way your voice was tight with anxiety.
He paused, holding the jacket in one hand as he looked back at you. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders dropped slightly. "Because you just scrambled to the other side of the bed, angel," he explained softly, in a voice so full of a gentle restraint, it confused you. He ran a hand through his hair and gestured down toward the prominent tent in his trousers. "Look, we really shouldn't go any further than this tonight. I really, really wanted to—trust me—but I didn't want to rush you."
You stared at him for a beat and the remaining distance between you on the mattress felt too wide. "You're not, I promise," you tried to convince him.
Sunoo froze, his eyes searching yours while he looked like he was fighting an internal battle, his jaw all tight like he was trying to maintain his willpower while your naked body was completely exposed to him.
Deciding to end the hesitation, you asked the exact question that completely broke his mind. "Don't you want to fuck me?"
Sunoo actually stuttered, all his cool frat boy attitude evaporated in a matter of seconds. "W-what?" he blinked, his mouth opening slightly like his brain was slowing down on him.
Before he could recover his senses or talk himself out of it, you grabbed him firmly by the front of his shirt and you pulled him right back down onto the mattress with a surge of confidence. You immediately swung your leg over his hips to straddle his lap and settle right over his thighs. You watched the initial surprise on his face wear off before you leaned down closer to his ear, letting your breath reach his skin. "You should stay," you whispered against his neck, placing a kiss there. "I'm a little bit good at riding dick."
A rough growl left him and a dark smirk sliced across his face. "Oh really? Show me then," he challenged you.
Without breaking eye contact, his hands moved to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his trousers to push them down along with his boxers. Because you were straddling his lap, he only managed to get his pants down to his knees but it was more than enough for both of you. His dick sprang free and you took a moment to admire him, he was a fair size, thick and heavy and absolutely perfect in your opinion.
Slowly, you reached down, using your fingers to close around the pulsing length of him. The moment your hand wrapped around his shaft, your eyes widened because right before your eyes, his dick throbbed and grew noticeably bigger in your palm, filling out your grip until your thumb that was touching your other fingers couldn’t anymore.
A quiet gasp escaped your lips, making Sunoo give you a melodic laugh. "I'm a grower, not a shower, angel," he teased you, reaching up to use his thumb to gently wipe a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek.
But his arrogant laugh turned into a dramatic pout a second later as reality set in. He looked up at you with a look of frustration. "Fuck," he muttered. "I don't have a condom on me. My wallet is in my car."
To his complete surprise, you didn't look even a little disappointed. You simply shifted over and reached your hand toward your bedside table drawer to pop it open and pull out a square foil wrapper, holding it up between your fingers with a smile.
Sunoo gawked at you, "You're really full of surprises, aren't you?" he breathed out, just stunned by your preparation.
You tore the wrapper open with your teeth, placing the latex cap against the tip of his leaking cock and slowly rolling it all the way down the length of him.
The tight friction of your hands wrapping around him caused Sunoo to let out a sharp hiss, his back arched a little off the mattress while his knuckles turned white from gripping your hips.
Sunoo looked down as you aligned his cock to your still wet pussy carefully before pushing up while you sat down in one slow move. The initial stretch was immediate and thick, it forced a whine from your lips as your body unraveled on top of him. He paused for a beat, his hands bracing against your hips as he looked up at your face, checking your expression to see how you took him.
"Feel that?" he murmured in a heavy rumble.
You could only nod your head, your fingers sinking into the muscles of his shoulders as you focused on the feeling of him filling you out completely. He started to move with a calm rhythm, letting you left up until he was completely out before pushing back up and burying himself all the way back inside. The friction was delicious, like a deep heat that had your thighs loosening completely to welcome the pace.
He let out a low groan, clenching his jaw as he picked up the speed. Every thrust was deep and solid, anchoring him to the bed as the wet sounds of your hips plopping down on him met your ears.
You rolled your hips subtly, like you were testing the waters and a strained hum slipped past Sunoo's throat. His hands immediately tightened on your hips, pinning you in place before you could lift yourself up again. "Don't—Don’t do that yet," he groaned, his eyes squeezed shut, looking fully caught off guard by how good it felt just to have your pussy wrapped around his cock like this. "Just give me a second. You're so tight, it's driving me crazy."
A confident smile played on your lips as you looked down at his flushed skin and heavy eyes. "I told you I was good at this," you whispered, deliberately tilting your pelvis just a fraction to watch his jaw clench.
Sunoo hummed loudly at the little bit of friction. "Yeah, you weren't lying," he admitted while that familiar smirk slowly came back to his face as he ran his hands up the sides of your thighs and up to your waist, tracing the trembling muscles. "But I'm starting to catch my breath, baby girl. Why don't you show me what else you can do?"
You slowly lifted your hips at his command, sliding up the heavy length of him until you were barely hovering on the head, then sinking back down all the way to the root. Once you were bottomed out against his pelvis, you began to grind your hips in a rolling circle, deliberately showing off just how well you could control the friction.
Sunoo let out a long breath, his head dropped back against the pillow and he used his eyes to track the circular tilt of your torso. "Yeahhh," he growled out, his voice thick and rough as he watched you dominate him. "Just like that, angel. Keep doing that."
The feeling of him shifting and turning inside your slick walls was completely overwhelming. You threw your head back and moaned out loud. "Sunoo...you're so deep," you whimpered, feeling your internal muscles clench tightly around his shaft with every rolling movement of your pelvis. "You're stretching me so much."
Hearing your undone voice broke whatever tiny shred of control he had left, his expression hardened in front of you and when you were about to go for another roll of your waist, his hands grabbed at your waist. With new strength, he pushed your upper body down toward the side of his and altered your angle completely, then he securely locked arms around your waist, pinning your hips flat against his pelvis so you couldn't lift yourself or escape the depth unless he let you.
Without giving you a second to adjust, Sunoo bucked his hips upward with a forceful thrust, slamming deep into your pussy, his length hit every sweet spot of yours with an unrelenting accuracy. A scream caught in your chest as he kept your lower half locked in place, his hips snapped upward over and over again, totally taking over the rhythm and driving you wild.
Every time he fucked his cock up into you, his length bottomed out perfectly until your mind was threatening to go blank.
He was fucking you so good that you didn't care about anything else, you didn't care that his dirty shoes were dragging across your clean sheets or that the mattress was already ruined from the sheer amount of wetness dripping from your core. None of it mattered except the way he was stretching you open.
"Right there...ah! Sunoo, right there!" you cried out, clinging to his shoulders. Your upper body thrashed against him and your inner walls clenched around him in waves that got tighter and tighter. "It's so deep...you're too deep."
"You like how deep I am, baby? Tell me you like it," Sunoo was getting breathless, a groan came out from him as he thrust up even harder, his pelvis slamming against yours. He looked up at you at the side of him, overly captivated by the way you were taking him. "God, you feel so fucking good. You're squeezing me so tight, you don’t want me to leave?"
"I can't...I can't take all of it," you whimpered, your head falling forward as another heavy surge pushed you closer to the edge.
"Yes, you can," he countered. "Why you telling me you can’t take it?" He asked. "Don’t tell me you can’t take it."
He moved his grip to your back, right at your tailbone. "You're taking every single inch of this cock like a good girl. You were made for me, hm? Look at how perfectly you fit around me."
The praise was so intoxicating, like a delicious mix of control and submission to how good you made him feel. It drove a sudden shift in your body, the tightening of your inner walls let him know exactly how close you were to the edge but then you broke loose from his grip on your waist and sat up straight on his dick. Starting to bounce yourself on his cock all on your own, you lifted your hips high before plunging all the way down, taking every single inch of him in quick bounces.
He fell back against the pillows with an excited grin on his face. He looked hypnotized, like the visual of you alone just dominating the pace had him under your spell. "Yeah, just like that," he panted, his voice taking on a submissive undertone, you could’ve sworn you saw the switch in his eyes. "Use me, ma. Take whatever you want from me."
He let his large hands reach up a path of fire along your waist before moving up to caress your breasts. He cupped them, finding your nipples with his thumbs and pinching them firmly, the quick jolt of pleasure made you cry out and your pace turned even more frantic.
Wanting to connect with you through the intensity, Sunoo tried to lock his fingers with yours but you didn’t seem to be having it. So consumed by the fast approaching orgasm that was coming your way, you shoved his hands away and brought your own hands up to grip at your hair as you threw your head back.
"Sunoo, I'm so fucking close," you gasped out, your torso arching as you kept up the brutal rhythm. "I'm so close—You’re going to make me cum! Ahh!"
He let out a dramatic pout, softening his eyes into a look of mock hurt even though his hips were still trying to match your pace. "You don't wanna hold hands with me?" he complained in a whine.
You completely ignored his teasing and moved one knee to plant your foot flat on the mattress. Bracing both of your hands firmly against his chest for leverage, you started bouncing even harder, using the new angle to drive his length deeper and faster into your pussy.
"Oh, shit," Sunoo eyes grew wide as he lost his mind.
The feeling of your tight walls squeezing him with that much force, combined with the view of you completely taking charge and taking exactly what you needed from his body, was entirely consuming him. The thought of being completely used by you, of being your toy for the moment, turned him on to a dangerous degree. His cool demeanor was shattered and the deep groans he had been making earlier dissolved into needy whines that echoed loudly with every heavy strike of your hips.
"Am I...am I doing good for you?" The words tumbled out in a too eager rush. He fucked up a little, trying to use his hands on your waist for leverage. "Do you like it? Do you like my cock, ma?"
You opened your eyes and blinked past the haze of your pleasure to look down at him. What you found on his face was the absolute neediest expression you had ever seen on anyone. He wanted you to praise him—in fact, looking at the now dilated pupils of his eyes, it was clear he desperately needed it.
You willingly obliged, leaning down slightly so your voice could carry over the wet friction of your bodies meeting. "I love it, Sunoo," you told him, trying to sound as certain as you could so he would know what he was doing to you too. "I love your cock so much. You're fucking me so good."
You could see the praise slap him across the face and he whined out loudly and threw his head back against the pillows. His chest heaved and his jaw clenched tight, shaking at your approval as you continued to take exactly what you wanted from him.
Seeing him like that, so vulnerable and hanging on your every word, made you feel powerful in a way you had never experienced before. The utter thrill of rewriting the social hierarchy right here on your bed made a rush of new adrenaline run straight to your core. You leaned over him farther so you could continue feeding his hunger for approval.
"You're such a good boy, Sunoo," you murmured to him, making sure your voice was dripping with sweet control. "Look at how pretty you look when you're being used."
He let out a shattered sob at the words, his hips lifting off the bed in a weak, involuntary twitch that buried his length as deep as it could possibly go.
"You like being used, hm?"
"Yes! Y/n—Oh my fuck—I love it!"
When a sudden surge of confidence hit you, you slid one hand flat against his panting chest and pushed the fabric of his shirt upward. You tracked down to his chest and pinched his nipple firmly between your fingers.
Sunoo cried out a sound that echoed off the walls, immediately grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away, his eyes wide and blown out from overstimulation. "Ah! Stop, please—stop!" he whined desperately, his head thrashing against the pillow. "You're gonna make me—if you keep doing that, I'm gonna cum right now!"
Despite his verbal pleading, his body was completely betraying him. The absolute overload of pleasure shifted his instinct into overdrive and he began thrusting back up into you from below. His movements were no longer smooth or calculated, they were so uncoordinated now, with his pelvis slamming up against your thighs with a messy hunger.
But even with the lack of coordination, he was hitting that exact spot inside you with every single thrust of his hips. The friction was hot and so devastating, you left like you were in the verge of crying with the way your own body was tightening up, leaving you just seconds away from cumming too.
Your vision blurred at the edges as the orgasm coiled tightly in your lower stomach. Instead of letting go, you leaned your weight heavily onto his chest, pinning him down.
"You're gonna make me cum, Sunoo," you gasped out to him, your voice breaking as you tightened your grip, pinching his nipple even harder against his chest.
"Fuck, okay, okay—then cum with me, please!" he begged in a needy whine.
Desperate to match your pace and drag you over the edge with him, Sunoo let go of your wrist and slid his hand down between your bodies, slipping his fingers through the slick wetness at the base of his shaft until his thumb found your swollen clit. He began to rub you with a fast pressure to match the drive of his hips pushing up into your pussy.
You felt like you were going completely insane, the volume of physical sensation and psychological dominance were blurring together into a dizzying haze. Sunoo felt the shift and his large hand ran back to your hips and gripped the bone with sore might to anchor you down. A guttural sound left him from the very back of his throat, his entire torso stiffened beneath you as he mewled out, "I'm gonna cum—fuck, I'm cumming!"
The latex barrier filled quickly between your bodies, quaking with the heat of his cum but he did not stop thrusting. Even as his own climax tore through him and shattered his strength, his hips kept moving upward into you in stubborn determination, he was focused on making you too and you were so close to the edge you could practically taste it.
The feeling of his thumb rubbing against your clit became too overwhelming and the angle changed again just enough to drive you mad. Desperate for a different type of release, you pushed his hand away from your core while leaning back slightly, your hands shook uncontrollably as you took matters into them. Emulating the aggressive pressure he had used earlier, you entered into switching between rapid rubs and sharp slaps against your swollen clit.
Sunoo stared, pinned to the mattress as he watched you pleasure yourself and ride his overstimulated cock just so you could get yourself off. The explicit sight of you taking total control of your own orgasm while riding out the dying pulses of his release destroyed his senses.
The combination of his stubborn movements and the brutal stimulation from your own fingers pushed you beautifully over the precipice. Your walls clamped down with a vice like tightness, they contracted so violently that your body literally forced his cock to slide right out of you. The sudden, rolling waves of your orgasm took over quickly and your back arched into a rigid line, your fingers digging into your hair as your core gave way, causing you to squirt heavily and repeatedly all over his cock and his lower pelvis. Sunoo’s eyes rolled back as the wet torrent soaked his skin, leaving both of you completely ruined and gasping for air in the tangled sheets.
"Oh, fuck..." he panted as he looked up at you. "That was so hot. You are incredible."
Completely spent and trembling from the aftershocks of the climax, you let your muscles give out, making you slump forward to collapse directly onto his chest. Sunoo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against his warm skin. For a few long moments, the only sound in the room was the synchronized heaves of your breathing, until a quiet chuckle escaped your lips at the thought of what you had just done. Sunoo caught the infection of it and the two of you began laughing softly against each other, feeling as though the high strung tension of the night had finally dissolved into an exhausted but comfortable warmth.
He smoothed a hand down your back, letting his fingers trace the line of your spine as his laughter trailed off into a satisfied sigh. He kissed the top of your head and said something but his voice was muffled by your hair for the beginning part. "—so glad I rigged that stupid raffle."
The words hit your ears like a splash of ice water and the warmth in your chest vanished in an instant. You froze and the sudden stiffness in your shoulders caused his hands to pause their stroking.
You sat up slowly and stared into his face, your eyes wide in disbelief and sudden realization.
content: (blonde) jake college au, academic rivals, enemies to lovers, angst, emotionally repressed characters (they're all kind of toxic), competition, sexual tension, unreliable narrator (i think?), mental health topics, reader is pretty socially anxious and depressed, light fluff, smut
warnings: mdni! sexual content, cursing, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (m. receiving), risky sex, classroom sex, degradation, emotional sex, first time, regret.
wc: 41.6k (oops)
note: if you recognize the small kanthony quote, i love you. this is for the avoidant, from the avoidant. i have a few songs that i listened to while writing this, so here they are in case anyone cares. the story doesn’t exactly relate to them, but they might put you in the mood to read it:
true love waits - radiohead / aquel nap zzzz - rauw alejandro / who knows - daniel caesar / con los dos en la cabeza - pedro guerra and cruz cafuné / just for today - clairo / cardigan - taylor swift / sarah - alex g / some protector - role model / angel (bedroom session) - beabadoobee / pushing it down and praying - lizzy mcalpine / boyish - japanese breakfast / moon river - frank ocean / moon song - phoebe bridgers / casual - chappel roan (ofc) / soren (bedroom session) - beabadoobee / i will - mitski / cinderella - mac miller and ty dolla $ing
i hadn't written in so long i forgot i actually enjoy doing this. this has been sitting on my notes app since like december lol. i also hope the whole research thing doesn't sound too stupid, please forgive me if you have already graduated, my fellow psychologists. i got all the info from a little research thing my friends and i did, but it’s hard to put it into dialogue, even harder if it’s in english :”) once again, english is not my first language, so forgive me in advance for any mistakes :) enjoy!
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you knocked on his door, almost pounding on it, letting all your rage out in that single action. you thought he was predictable enough. you didn’t really know him, but his mind had never seemed all that complex. he might have had the best grades in all your classes for almost three consecutive years, but outside of academics, his thought process felt pretty easy to follow. or so you believed.
you kept trying to get him to open the door. it was a saturday morning, so it was obvious he was sleeping in after a long night of doing god knows what. you had only spoken to him briefly once, but everyone seemed to know his routine a little too well. he was extremely predictable, right?
“could you explain to me why the fuck-“ you cut yourself off after a few words came out of your mouth, realizing you weren’t talking to the person you were supposed to kill that morning.
“who are you?” the pitch black haired girl standing in front of you asked in a condescending tone, with all the confidence you had spent hours trying to build vanishing in a few seconds.
“y-yeah, uhm. sorry. i was looking for… jake?”
“he is sleeping.” you could tell she wasn’t going to give you much more information by her lack of justification. could she at least offer to pass the message down to him? while you were pondering about how to even ask her to do so, you couldn’t help but notice her smudged mascara and the faint red marks that were blooming on her neck. didn’t he have a girlfriend? you had heard some people called him ‘the campus slut’, but you didn’t know the title was so literal. you had no interest on speculating on people’s sex lives at that moment, but you prayed someone had told his supposed girlfriend about how this guy was spending the nights.
“anything else?” you thought people would stop being mean for no reason once you got to college, but that wasn’t the case at all. you learned pretty quickly in your first year that all the cliches still existed no matter how old you got, and that’s how you stayed invisible. you were comfortable with being irrelevant, unknown to most people, since that’s how it had been for your whole life. you didn’t speak to anyone unless it was mandatory and completely inevitable, which left you with, to be honest, zero friends. you tried in your first year, you really did, at least during the first month. but you quickly realized people weren’t so friendly there, even less to such an awkward person. interacting socially didn’t come as easy to you as it did to others, but you had no idea how to change it. even if you had tried to for your whole twenty years of life.
all you knew was that you had a single goal. a quiet goal that made you stay up every night, drowning in voluptuous psychology books that you took out of the library’s darkest corners and writing infinite notes that were carefully highlighted in all sort of colours. a goal that always had an obstacle. an obstacle named jake sim, to be exact. and at that exact moment, he was hindering your progress more than ever. “look, uhm… could you tell him i’m his project partner for his social development class and that i need to talk to him? if he doesn’t remember me, tell him he gave me his email, in class. i-i shared a google doc so he also has my email address and he can-“
“who the fuck is at my door at this hour, kyra?” before you could finish your sentence, you heard a deep voice approaching. the infuriating voice you were actually looking for.
“great, you woke him up.” kyra spoke in a fake nice tone, a mean smile pulling at her lips. before you could even process the passive-aggressive comment, a dyed blonde head peeked out from behind the door. your heart jumped. you had spent so long preparing for this confrontation, but now that it was actually happening, you suddenly felt weak. “oh, you.” well, at least it seemed like he remembered who you were. you could skip the embarrassing part in which you reminded him of the only interaction you had ever had, in front of another stranger too. “so… what do you need?” jake questioned in a confused tone, clearly not interested in what you had to say.
“i wanna talk to you. in private.” you said as your gaze turned to the girl who answered the door, trying to subtly get your message across.
“this is fucking stupid, i’ll wait for you in bed.” she rolled her eyes as she entered the apartment again, clearly not happy about your presence. you knew you were being an inconvenience, but he deserved it. it wasn’t your fault she was there to suffer the consequences of his actions.
“so?” you took a deep breath before speaking, as seeing the natural look of confidence he had was already making you furious.
“i did my part the day the project was assigned. tell me why i opened the document yesterday night to see if you had started and, to my surprise, the whole thing is gone. deleted.”
“do you not know how to look at the document history or what?” “d-do you think i haven’t done that?! that is also gone, you know?” you raised your voice a little, trying to hide how anxious you were about the whole interaction.
“and you weren’t smart enough to make a copy of your text?” “why do we use google docs for? it’s supposed to be safe because of the damn history.”
“did you come here just to blame me for your irresponsibility?” you had never met such an infuriating person, you were sure. but before you could even respond, he questioned you again. “how did you even get my address?” you knew that question would come up sooner or later, so you already had your answer prepared.
“i asked your friend who works at the campus cafe. i always see you with him.” you did ask heeseung because you knew he would be dumb enough to just tell you without much reasoning. although you actually didn’t need his help, you couldn’t let jake know you were actually very aware of his surroundings. you were a little too familiar with what his friend group posted on instagram, too. this guy’s information was way too easy to find, you thought. some people might have thought you were obsessed, but to you, it was simply being strategic. analyzing the objective, comprehending how a person so careless could always win. no matter what you did. maybe you were a little obsessed, but you had your academic reasons.
“so my guy heeseung is just giving out my information for free to random people, huh? i’ll talk to him later then.” he thought out loud, while completely ignoring your accusations still.
“don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” “you know, the need to sabotage only exists when there is real competition.” ouch. it wasn’t only the content of his message, it was also the way he delivered it. the calm tone, the cocky smirk and the lack of need of explanation. “look, you must have had a problem with your connection. but since i can physically sense your anxiety from here, i’ll do your part again. happy?” you were enraged. what did he know about your anxiety? he probably didn’t even remember your name. him being so sure about your mental state made you feel furious, and him being correct about it worsened even more.
"i don't need your pity. i just need you to not mess with my work. i don't have time for these kind of things, okay?"
"i'll send you a message when it's fully done. see ya." before you could even think of an answer, the door was shutted right in front of your face without further explanation. you just needed to get through this project and you wouldn't have to share a single word with jake ever again in your life.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
three days later, you finally reopened the document after you had only been working on it for a couple hours that same day you confronted jake. you needed to finish your part once again not because you wanted to, but because ignoring it any longer would’ve felt like admitting defeat. you sat down in the library with the same heaviness you had been carrying since that night, fingers hovering above the trackpad for a moment too long before you clicked in. the file loaded and nothing felt different at first. your section was still there, the parts you had rewritten after the frustration of seeing it had been erased. it still felt slightly uneven to you, unfinished in the way only your own work could feel when you knew you hadn’t had enough time to properly shape it again. you scrolled down, expecting the rest of it to still be blank. empty space, his problem. but there was no empty space. the document was... done. not half done, not rushed, not patched together just to meet the deadline. fully done. the methodology section had been expanded beyond what you had originally outlined, your notes reorganized into something clearer, more structured. the analysis had been rewritten in places, not replaced, but refined in a way that still made your ideas recognisable underneath it. even the conclusion was there, clean, direct and complete. you stared at it for a long time, not scrolling, not moving, just reading the same paragraph twice because your brain refused to accept that it hadn’t been there before.
and then you saw the comments. dozens of them. not long messages, not explanations, just quiet interruptions in your work: “this needs more grounding” “unclear reasoning here” “this part is actually strong, keep it” “you’re overexplaining this concept”. there was no tone in them, no praise or sarcasm, no attempt at softness. there was just precision, like he had treated your writing the way you treated data. you leaned back slightly in your chair, exhaling through your nose while trying to make sense of the irritation forming in your chest. not because he had ruined your work, but because he hadn’t. he had expanded it into something much more structured as he had finished his own precisely. maybe his stupid first place at the rankings seemed a little more fair now. you stared at his name for a second longer than you should have, your jaw tightening slightly as you scrolled back through the pages again, slower this time, as if you might find the trick hidden somewhere in the formatting. there wasn’t one. it was just good, annoyingly good. one last comment appeared at the end of the document, letting you know that he was done editing. you followed his suggestions and made the changes you saw necessary, as you didn't agree with all of his opinions. jake was sharp with his work — direct, structured, almost brutally efficient. you, on the other hand, preferred slower reasoning, longer explanations, space to sit with an idea instead of compressing it into something clean and immediate. you almost had opposite ways of writing, but it had worked somehow.
once you read it all again, you opened a new email and attached the file, professor jones’ address going in first. you didn’t overthink it, as it was just the usual submission format for a small assignment. after a second, you also added jake’s email in cc so that he would be notified you had already turned it in. you clicked send, finally allowing yourself to forget about that dumb project and your even dumber partner. although, somehow, he still lingered in the back of your mind anyway.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the following days slipped back into routine in a way that almost felt normal again: lectures, library sessions, half-finished readings you told yourself you would return to later. the project stayed somewhere in the back of your mind, present but quiet. until professor jones called you in after class. his office looked the same as always — slightly cluttered, papers stacked in uneven piles, his laptop half-open like he was constantly in the middle of something he hadn’t finished yet.
“come in.” he said warmly as you stepped inside. “i was just reviewing your submission.” you sat down, hands folded loosely in your lap, trying to read his expression before he said anything else. “it’s good.” he said after a moment. “really good. there’s a lot of clarity in your thinking, especially in how you structure social behavior patterns. that’s not easy to teach.” you blinked slightly at the praise, caught off guard. “but more than that,” he added, softening his tone a little, “it shows potential. real research potential.” as you heard his words, your posture straightened without meaning to. “i've been thinking.” he continued, leaning back in his chair. “your work doesn't need to only be small coursework assignments. it can become something more meaningful if you’re willing to push it.”
“more meaningful?” you repeated carefully.
he nodded. “a structured research project over the semester. you’ll expand on what you already always do: methods, data collection, proper analysis. but you’ll actually test your ideas instead of just discussing them.” you stayed quiet, absorbing it all. “and at the end of the term, there’s a student research conference. it’s internal, but it brings in students from different departments who are interested in research work. you would present your findings there.”
that made your stomach tighten slightly. “a conference?”
“yes.” he said simply, like it was the most natural next step in the world. “it’s a good opportunity, especially for someone in your position.” you looked up at him at that. he smiled slightly, not in a performative way, more like he was choosing his words carefully. “you’re doing very well, but you’re also at a point where the work you produce should be seen. it matters for your scholarship, and for what comes after this degree.” that landed differently, since it wasn't pressure, but direction. “you’re capable of more than just maintaining grades.” he added gently. “i don’t want you to only stay at the top, i want you to build something that stays with you after university.” he paused then to continue a few seconds later, more practically. “and i think jake challenges you in a productive way. he forces structure where you tend to stay more exploratory. that balance is exactly what makes strong research.”
you felt it before you even processed it properly. that small tightening in your chest, like your body had reacted faster than your thoughts. you looked down at your hands for a moment, adjusting your grip on the edge of your sleeve without meaning to. the room suddenly felt quieter, not because anything had changed, but because your attention had narrowed too much. jake. you didn’t say anything immediately, just letting the silence sit there, as if waiting long enough might make the idea rearrange itself into something more tolerable. but it didn’t. working with him wasn’t just a line in a document anymore, it was becoming something structured. planned, extended, something you couldn’t quietly ignore your way out of. your throat tightened slightly. “so we’re still working together?” you asked, but it came out more carefully than you intended. less like a question, more like something you were testing the weight of out loud.
professor jones didn’t answer right away, studying you for a second instead. not in a clinical way, but in the quiet, patient way someone does when they already know the answer you don’t want to hear. “i was expecting you to ask that.” he said gently, and that alone made your stomach sink a little further. he leaned forward slightly, resting his hands together. “i wouldn’t keep you as partners if i didn’t think it was beneficial for you.”
your fingers pressed a little tighter into your sleeve. “beneficial in what way?” you asked, though you already had a suspicion you weren’t going to like the answer.
“in every way that matters for where you’re trying to go.” he said simply. “academically, yes, but also in terms of development. your work becomes sharper when you’re challenged. you know that.” a pause. “and jake responds well to direction, you respond well to space. that combination works.”
you exhaled quietly through your nose, but it wasn’t really a laugh. “it’s not that simple.” you said, mostly under your breath.
“i know.” he replied immediately, not dismissing it. “it rarely feels simple when it involves someone you’re not comfortable with.” that made you look up slightly as he continued, tone steady. “but i'm not asking you to like the arrangement. i'm asking you to trust the outcome of it.” silence again. your mind went through it anyway, whether you wanted it to or not. the library. the comments. the way he rewrote your work without destroying it. the way you had hated that you noticed it was good.
you swallowed. “i just… don’t want it to interfere with my other work.” you said, slower now, searching for a more acceptable objection.
“it won’t.” professor jones said calmly. “if anything, it will stabilize it. you’re already thinking about it too much on your own.” that made something in your chest pull uncomfortably tight, because he wasn’t wrong. you weren’t agreeing, but you weren’t refusing anymore either.
"okay.” you said finally, quieter than before. not fully convinced, not fully resistant either, just caught somewhere in between. professor jones nodded once, like that was all he needed.
“good.” he said softly. “i think you’ll see what i mean sooner than you expect.”
you left his office with the word conference sitting in your head, heavier than expected, but not entirely unwelcome. and for the first time, it didn’t feel like you had been assigned something. it felt like someone had seen further ahead than you had.
as you walked across campus, you realized you had left professor jones' office with your chest feeling strangely heavy. you should have been happy, actually happy. this was the type of opportunity people waited years for. actual research as a third year student, actual experimental work, a proper conference. something that would look incredible on scholarship evaluations and future applications, something that could genuinely help build a future. your future. and professor jones had looked so excited while talking about it too. so why did it feel like your stomach was sinking? probably because of him. because for some obvious reason, out of everyone in your year, it had to be jake. you tried convincing yourself it wasn't that serious while walking through campus. you could do it, you could be professional. people worked with classmates they disliked all the time, and it wasn't like you had to become friends. it wasn't like you even spoke to each other outside of a single assignment. still, your mind kept replaying professor jones' words: "he challenges you in a productive way." productive, right. because accusing him of sabotage and showing up at his apartment at nine in the morning on a saturday definitely sounded productive. you let out a quiet breath through your nose as your thoughts kept spiraling without a stop.
whatever. you would deal with it later. except apparently later meant right in that moment, because as soon as you entered the campus cafe, you saw him. jake was standing near the pickup counter with one hand in his hoodie pocket while staring down at his phone. completely relaxed, completely normal and unaffected. you almost turned around, you almost did. but then he looked up and saw you as his eyes narrowed slightly — not in annoyance, more like in realization. you looked away first, because absolutely not. you walked toward the counter while pretending you hadn't seen him, hoping maybe he would do the same.
he obviously didn't. "professor jones talked to you too?"
you stopped. of course he would skip hello. slowly, you turned around. "yeah." a small silence. he looked at you as you tried looking at him back, just to immediately turn your head away. why did he cause so much anger inside you just by standing there?
"so we're doing that." your voice sounded much weaker than you wanted it to.
jake stared at you for a moment. "looks like it."
you hated how calm he sounded. you actually hated how calm he always sounded. because meanwhile your brain was practically running into walls trying to process things. you crossed your arms without realizing. "if you don't want to, you can tell him."
his eyebrows furrowed slightly. "what?"
"the project." you shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "if you don't think it'll work." silence. you risked looking up, noticing how jake was staring at you now.
"why would i do that?"
you frowned. "because we don't exactly get along." "do we not?"
you just stared at him in disbelief. "are you serious right now?"
jake blinked once as his mouth twitched slightly. not enough to call it a smile, but enough to make you want to punch him. "you don't sound very excited." he said in a playful tone.
"that’s probably because i'm not." "then you tell professor jones that."
"why me?" "because you're the one who looks like you're about to throw up."
you stared at him in horror. "i do not." "you do."
"i don't." "okay."
you hated how quickly he gave up. you hated it because somehow it felt worse, now sounding like he simply didn't care enough to argue. another few seconds passed. awkward, horribly awkward. "look," you finally sighed, crossing your arms, "i want to do this project."
jake looked at you. "obviously."
"i'm serious." "i know."
"i just don't think we'll work well together." there, you finally said it.
jake looked at you for a few moments and then shrugged. "probably not. but professor jones wants us to do it." he continued casually, "and i want him to keep liking me, because it means recommendations. opportunities." he looked at you like it was obvious. "and because he also looked way too happy explaining it." your irritation paused for a second, because that actually sounded reasonable — like you almost shared a motive. jake looked down at his drink before looking back at you. "so let's just not kill each other for a few months."
you stared at him and then frowned. "a few months?"
"yeah." he tilted his head slightly. "did you think research happened in two weeks?"
of course you knew research took months, you weren't stupid. you just hadn't thought that far as you had been too busy processing the jake part of it. "right." another silence. you suddenly became very aware of how awkward it was to just stand there looking at him. people kept walking around you both, entering and leaving the cafe while the conversation felt weirdly stuck.
then jake took a sip from his drink. "professor wants us to meet with him on friday."
your eyes snapped back to him. "what?"
"he told me before i left." he shrugged. "to discuss ideas."
"already?" "that's generally how projects work."
you lowered your head with a quiet sigh as a few seconds passed before jake spoke again. "don't make me do the whole thing alone."
"excuse me?"
he looked back at you with complete indifference. "you accused me of deleting your work like four days ago. i feel like i'm allowed to be cautious."
you stared at him in disbelief. actual disbelief. "right." that was it, right. because apparently getting the last word wasn't enough for him either.
"i'll see you friday then." you said flatly, crossing your arms a little tighter around yourself.
jake simply nodded before taking another sip of his drink. "see you." and then he walked away. you stared at his back for a few seconds longer than necessary before turning around toward the counter. you didn't know what annoyed you more — the fact that you were stuck with him for months or the fact that he somehow looked completely okay with it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you had expected professor jones' office to somehow feel different after what he had told you a few days ago. bigger, maybe. more serious. like the room itself would suddenly reflect the fact that this wasn't another regular class assignment anymore. it didn't, though. it looked exactly the same as always. the same crowded bookshelves covered nearly every wall, filled with books you doubted anyone had touched in years and stacks of papers that looked disorganized to anyone except probably him. the same small plant sat near the window, somehow surviving despite looking half dead every semester. the same coffee mug sat on the corner of his desk. everything felt normal, which was ridiculous, because you definitely didn't. you sat in the chair in front of his desk trying not to bounce your leg under it, your fingers loosely playing with the sleeve of your shirt while your thoughts continued moving much faster than they should have. actual research. a conference. recommendations. scholarships. your future. the words had been replaying in your head since he had first mentioned them, and somehow every time you thought about them they felt heavier.
meanwhile, beside you sat jake, who of course seemed to be relaxed. you hadn't expected anything else. he was leaning back slightly in his chair, one hand resting against his jaw while absentmindedly scrolling through something on his phone. he looked like someone waiting for a friend to finish buying coffee, not someone sitting in a meeting that could potentially affect the next few years of his academic life. you hated that. you hated it because you maybe knew it probably wasn't even confidence. confidence implied effort, confidence implied he had considered the possibility of failure and then decided not to care. jake simply looked like failing had never crossed his mind.
professor jones looked between both of you before smiling. "before i start overwhelming you with articles and deadlines, i want to hear what interests you."
the room went quiet. the problem wasn't that you didn't have ideas, the problem was that you suddenly had too many of them and none of them sounded intelligent enough to say out loud. you had spent the last few days imagining this whole thing becoming something important, and now your brain had apparently decided that speaking was impossible. professor jones continued waiting patiently while beside you, jake said nothing, which annoyed you too. because if he was supposedly so structured and organized and perfect, then why was you go first suddenly the strategy?
"...people?" you finally said. the word left your mouth and you immediately regretted existing as you physically felt yourself cringe. people. great, amazing contribution. you cleared your throat. "i mean..." you quickly continued, trying to recover from the disaster you had just created. "relationships, maybe? social development. interpersonal stuff." professor jones nodded thoughtfully, which made you feel relief for approximately one second.
"too broad." your head turned slowly. of course it had come from him. jake wasn't even looking at you, he was staring somewhere near the bookshelves behind professor jones with the most neutral expression imaginable, as if he had simply commented that it looked cloudy outside.
you stared at him. seriously? "okay," you said slowly, "sorry for not arriving with a fully developed research proposal."
that finally made him look over, his eyebrows pulled together slightly. "i wasn't criticizing you." and somehow that annoyed you even more, because criticism you could work with. criticism meant opposition. but this expression on his face, this genuine confusion, like he actually didn't understand why you sounded irritated, somehow felt worse. because then either he was pretending to be oblivious or he genuinely had no idea how he came across. and honestly, you weren't sure which possibility bothered you more.
professor jones looked suspiciously close to smiling, making your eyes slightly narrow. he was absolutely enjoying this. he finally cleared his throat, although the small smile at the corner of his mouth never really disappeared. "okay," he said, leaning back in his chair. "let's narrow it down a little."
you looked away from jake and back toward the desk, crossing one leg over the other while trying to ignore the lingering irritation sitting somewhere in your chest. it was stupid, honestly. you didn't even fully know why his comment had bothered you so much. actually, no. you did know. because he always sounded like that. never rude enough for anyone to call him rude, never arrogant enough for anyone to call him arrogant. he simply said things in this annoyingly neutral tone, like he was reading facts off a presentation slide. there was never enough emotion in his voice to prove he meant anything by it. which meant getting irritated always made you look dramatic. which maybe you were a little, but it was fine as long as you kept it inside your own head.
you stared down at your sleeve for a few seconds while absentmindedly pulling at a loose thread. social development, relationships, interpersonal stuff. none of it felt specific enough anymore. you had thrown the ideas out without really thinking, mostly because silence had somehow become unbearable. but now that the room had gone quiet again, you could feel your brain doing that thing it always did where it started running in ten directions at once. because relationships could mean friendships, family, social behavior, emotional regulation, childhood experiences, attachment. "what about attachment?" the words had simply left out of your mouth. for a second, the room stayed quiet, which made you slowly look up. great, now both of them were looking at you. you shrugged slightly, suddenly becoming very interested in a tiny scratch on professor jones' desk. "i don't know," you said quickly. "we talk about it a lot in class." you paused, then immediately felt the need to explain yourself more. because apparently your brain believed every thought required a full defense. "like... childhood relationships affecting later relationships and stuff." you frowned slightly. "people act weird because of it."
"people act weird?" you turned your head so fast you almost regretted it, as jake was looking at you now. and there it was again, that tiny thing near his mouth. not a smile, you were beginning to realize that jake apparently never smiled normally in front of you.
you narrowed your eyes. "you know what i mean."
he tilted his head slightly. "i actually don't."
you stared at him, because you knew he knew what you meant. there was no way someone who had the highest grades in almost every class suddenly forgot how basic human behavior worked. you crossed your arms. "yes, you do."
"i really don't." for a few seconds, you just looked at each other. and then, very suddenly, you realized something awful. professor jones wasn't interrupting. he was just sitting there, watching. watching like this was some kind of television show. you slowly turned your head toward him and finally, he looked back at the notes in front of him. "i think what she's trying to say," he said gently, "is that attachment patterns influence the way people perceive and interact with others."
you immediately pointed toward him. "yes." then toward jake. "that."
jake looked back at professor jones and nodded once. "that makes more sense."
you dropped your hand back into your lap, because somehow being understood by professor jones and not by jake felt weirdly personal. which was ridiculous, because it definitely wasn't personal. the guy barely knew who you were. still, something about it sat annoyingly in your chest.
professor jones glanced down at his notes again, pen hovering slightly above the page as if he was already organizing your scattered ideas into something more coherent. "attachment could be a good starting point." he said calmly. "but you’ll need to decide what exactly you want to examine within it."
you exhaled softly through your nose, leaning back a little in your chair. that was the problem. everything felt like it connected to everything else, which made narrowing it down feel almost arbitrary. your gaze drifted across the room while you tried to force your brain into something more structured. "emotions?" you said eventually, though it came out more like a question than an idea you fully owned. "like… emotional responses. how people react to others."
it wasn’t great, but it was something. jake shifted slightly beside you. he hadn’t looked at you when he spoke, which for some reason made it easier to listen without immediately wanting to argue. "empathy would fit better than emotions in general." he said after a moment, still looking down at the desk. his tone was even, like he was just adjusting a term rather than rejecting your idea. "emotions is too broad. empathy might be more specific to interpersonal response."
you glanced at him briefly. professor jones nodded slowly, as if that was exactly the direction he had been hoping the conversation would move toward. "that’s true." he agreed. you looked back down at your sleeve, tugging lightly at the fabric again. it wasn’t even that jake was saying anything particularly offensive. he wasn’t dismissive, he wasn’t rude, he wasn’t even trying to take over the conversation. that was probably the worst part, because he just… contributed. you exhaled quietly. "okay," you said, mostly to keep things moving. "attachment and empathy then."
professor jones’ pen paused for a second. "that could work very well." he said, more thoughtfully now. he leaned forward slightly, interest clearly sharpening. "attachment styles influence how people interpret social information, and empathy is one of the clearest ways that gets expressed." professor jones let the words settle for a moment, as if he was already rearranging them into something more formal in his head. the pen between his fingers stopped moving, and for the first time in the conversation, he looked fully focused rather than just mildly entertained. "attachment and empathy." he repeated quietly, testing it. you nodded once, a little slower this time. it still felt strange how quickly the idea had become something real, something that could actually exist beyond this room. a few minutes ago you had been throwing out vague concepts just to fill silence, and now there was a tiny direction forming out of it. you weren’t sure if that was exciting or stressful. probably both. professor jones leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on the desk. "there’s actually a lot of room there." he continued. "you could look at different attachment styles and how they relate to empathic responses, or even how that changes depending on individual differences."
you stayed quiet, absorbing it more than responding. the structure of it was starting to take shape in a way that made it feel less like an abstract idea and more like something you would actually have to do. collect, measure, analyze. real work. beside you, jake gave a small nod, like he was following the same thread without needing it explained further. it wasn’t showy, just… immediate. like the conclusion had already formed in his head and he was simply confirming it matched the room. you noticed it before you could stop yourself, then immediately forced your attention back to the professor. "so," professor jones said as he sat back again, tone lightening slightly. "if you both agree, this could be the start of your project." the sentence landed more simply than you expected. no ceremony, no dramatic framing, just that. your first instinct was to look at jake again, but you stopped yourself halfway through it. instead, you focused on the edge of the desk, letting the idea settle properly before reacting to it. your project. together. you exhaled slowly through your nose. it wasn’t that you disagreed with the topic, because you didn’t. actually, it was probably one of the better ideas you could’ve landed on in the time you’d been given. it just… came with a complication you hadn’t fully processed yet.
you glanced sideways anyway, just briefly. jake was already standing up slightly straighter, like the decision had simply moved the conversation forward in his head rather than changing anything significant. professor jones smiled, clearly satisfied with the direction everything had taken. "i’ll formalize the assignment and send you the guidelines." he added. "but for now, attachment and empathy. that’s your starting point. so now, go search all the papers and articles you can find about this topic and try to explore what new things you could bring to the table. i trust they will be a lot."
you gave a small nod, slower than before, as the reality of it finally settled properly. and for the first time since walking into the office, the thought that stuck wasn’t the topic itself. it was the fact that this was no longer just an idea you could step away from when the conversation ended.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
working with jake became an uncomfortable addition to your routine much faster than you wanted it to. not because he demanded constant meetings or sent endless messages about the project. honestly, if it had been up to him, you were starting to think he would've been perfectly fine speaking only through shared documents for the next few months. the problem was professor jones. because professor jones apparently loved words like collaboration and research process and active discussion, which translated into him repeatedly reminding both of you that good research wasn't built by two people independently doing half the work and stapling it together at the end. so now you had meetings. actual meetings. which was why you currently found yourself sitting across from jake in one of the library halls of the the study rooms on a thursday afternoon, surrounded by articles you had printed the night before.
jake had only brought his laptop, of course he had. you had shown up with highlighted articles, sticky notes sticking out of pages at uneven angles, and a notebook full of things you had written at two in the morning that had seemed organized at the time. he glanced down at the stack in front of you, then back at you. “you printed all of those?"
you looked down. "yes?"
he was silent for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought. "why?"
you stared at him, the answer being too obvious to you. "to read them?"
"right." he nodded once, expression completely flat. "forgot people still did that."
you narrowed your eyes a little. "some people just remember information better when they see it physically."
"mhm." his face didn't change. you couldn't tell if that was agreement or if he had simply made a noise.
you pulled one of the articles toward yourself instead. "okay, so," you said as you flipped through a few pages. "we already know attachment and empathy have been studied a lot."
jake leaned back slightly in his chair. "yeah."
"secure attachment usually correlates positively with empathy." "mhm." "avoidant usually negatively." another nod. you glanced up, wondering if he was going to say anything beyond one syllable words at some point. you looked back down at your papers before you could accidentally look irritated. "the issue seems to be preoccupied attachment." you tapped the article lightly. "results aren't consistent."
jake finally shifted a little. "because it's contradictory." you looked up. he was looking at his laptop screen, eyes moving as he scrolled. "people with preoccupied attachment are hyper-aware of relationships, so you could argue they'd be more empathic." he paused. "but they're also more emotionally reactive." you frowned slightly. "so self-focused distress gets in the way."
"yeah." you blinked, because that was actually exactly what you had highlighted.
you looked down at your article again, then immediately said, "but that's already been suggested."
his eyes moved toward you. "i know."
"so we can't just say that." "i also know."
silence. you hated that somehow you felt awkward when he was the one sitting there acting like human conversation was an optional side quest. jake clicked something on his laptop. "the inconsistency has to be coming from somewhere."
you looked at him again. "well, that's obvious."
"not really." you frowned as he turned his screen slightly toward himself. "people keep treating preoccupied attachment like everyone with it responds the same way." he shrugged a little. "and they don't."
you crossed your arms. "that's too broad."
"why?" "because individual differences can explain literally anything." "doesn't make it wrong."
you opened your mouth to just immediately close it. you had your doubts on where to take this. "okay, but if we say individual differences, that's not specific enough for a study."
he looked at you for a few seconds, then nodded once. "fair." jake glanced back at his screen. "gender?"
you looked up. "how?" you said in a genuine way, being curious about his thought process.
"women generally score higher in empathy." he said it casually, like he was reading weather data. "if previous studies ignored gender, maybe that's part of the inconsistency."
you stared at him for a second, then slowly looked down at the article in front of you. "if we include gender," you said slowly, mostly thinking out loud now, "then we'd be arguing that the reason findings are inconsistent isn't necessarily because preoccupied attachment itself is inconsistent." jake looked up. you kept going, eyes still on your notes. "it could be because previous studies grouped everyone together." you flipped the page absentmindedly. "so if women with preoccupied attachment generally score higher in empathy than men with the same attachment style-"
"you get different results depending on who ends up in the sample."
you stopped and looked up. jake was leaning back in his chair, one arm resting against the table, eyes on his laptop screen even though he'd just finished your sentence like he'd known where you were going before you did. you stared at him for a second. "right."
he nodded once and that was it. no exactly. no yeah, that's what i meant. nothing, just that tiny nod like the conclusion had been obvious. and maybe that was what annoyed you. because if you had connected those dots, you would've at least looked a little pleased with yourself. not in an obnoxious way, just in a normal human way. there would've been some visible sign of satisfaction, but jake looked like he had remembered something so casual it wasn't worth a reaction. you looked back down at the article, except now you weren't reading anymore. you were staring at the highlighted lines while a much more irritating thought sat in your head. had he already thought about this? because if he had, then why was he sitting there acting like he'd just casually thrown out a possibility? you kind of hated people who did that. people who already had an answer but acted like they were arriving there naturally with everyone else. "wait." you couldn’t help but ask. "did you already think this?"
jake's eyes lifted from his screen. "think what."
you stared at him. "this." you gestured vaguely between the papers and his laptop. "the gender thing."
his expression barely shifted as he looked back at the screen. "a little."
a little. of course. because apparently every answer with him had to feel like you were trying to pull information out of someone being questioned by the police. "define a little."
he glanced at you, then back at the screen. "i mean, professor jones already said we needed a gap in the literature." click, scroll. "there's inconsistent findings around preoccupied attachment." click. "gender isn't really addressed." click, another shrug. "it wasn't that hard."
you stared at him. it wasn't that hard. something in your eye twitched, not physically, more like emotionally. because there was absolutely no chance he meant it in a condescending way, and that was the problem. if he'd smirked, if he'd looked smug, if he'd sounded even remotely pleased with himself, then you could've comfortably decided he was irritating and moved on. but he didn't. he said it with complete indifference, like he genuinely didn't think he had said anything worth noticing. you couldn't even be mad at him for being cocky — he wasn't being cocky. he was just casually smart in a way that made you feel stupid for needing more time, which was significantly more annoying. you crossed your arms. "okay, well, i think it's a little more complicated than that."
jake finally looked up properly. "how?"
you sat up slightly. "because if we immediately assume gender explains the inconsistency, then we're forcing the data to fit an explanation before we've even looked at it." his eyebrows moved a fraction, the tiniest amount. you felt strangely victorious. "there are other possibilities," you continued. "differences in measures, sampling issues, social desirability bias-"
"those aren't mutually exclusive. we’re looking at gender because we want to focus on a possible variable that is shown to have a differential impact on empathy in previous literature." he continued as you looked at him. "gender can matter and those things can matter too." he said it so simply, so annoyingly simply. like you'd somehow overcomplicated something that, in his mind, had never needed complicating.
you frowned. "i know they're not mutually exclusive." "okay."
you stared at him, because there was something uniquely irritating about the way he did that. the way he said okay like he had accepted what you said while simultaneously sounding like he thought you had taken the scenic route to arrive somewhere obvious. and maybe you were imagining it, you could be imagining it. you had personally known this guy for what, a few weeks? maybe less? if you didn’t count all your social media stalking and the horrible image you had already made up in your head about him, of course. there was a very real possibility that you were projecting an entire personality onto him because his face gave away approximately nothing and your brain apparently hated unanswered questions. except maybe, just maybe, you weren't completely imagining it. because there had been that tiny eyebrow raise earlier, that microscopic thing. that i'm waiting to see where you're going with this expression. and now there was this, this stupidly calm okay. you narrowed your eyes a little. "you know that's annoying, right?"
jake looked up from his laptop. "what is?"
"that." you pointed vaguely at him, which wasn't helpful at all, but you honestly didn't have a better explanation.
he looked down at himself for a second, then back at you. "me sitting?"
you stared at him as he stared back, and for a whole second you genuinely couldn't tell if he was serious. you let out a small breath through your nose. "you seem to do this thing where you act like you don't care about the conversation and then suddenly say something that completely changes the direction of it."
he blinked once. "i'm literally just discussing the project."
"that's not what i mean." "then what do you mean?"
you opened your mouth just to immediately close it. because annoyingly, you didn't know exactly what you meant. you just knew there was something frustrating about the whole thing. about sitting there with someone who looked detached enough to be mentally planning dinner while somehow keeping up with every point you made and responding with irritatingly concise answers that kept making sense. because if he had been openly pedant, if he'd corrected you every five minutes, you swore it would've been easier. but jake just sat there looking half-asleep while dropping comments that made you rethink your own arguments, and somehow that felt unfair. you looked down at your papers again. "nothing." you muttered.
silence. you started reorganizing the articles in front of you, even though they had already been organized, because your hands suddenly needed something to do. paper slid against paper. outside, footsteps passed down the hallway. someone laughed somewhere in the distance. the library air conditioning hummed softly overhead. and then — "you do it too." your hands stopped. slowly, you looked up, but jake wasn't looking at you. his eyes were still on his screen.
"do what?" "act like you don't care."
you let out a tiny laugh of disbelief. "what?"
he shrugged. "you keep pretending you're just thinking out loud."
your eyebrows pulled together. "i am thinking out loud."
"not really." his eyes lifted then. "you say something," he said evenly, "then you look at me for like three seconds waiting to see if i agree."
you stared at him. and for one horrible second, your brain replayed the last twenty minutes. you saying something, looking up, waiting. saying something else, looking up, waiting. oh my god. heat crept into your face, hopefully not enough to be noticeable. you looked down at your papers again. "i do not."
"mmh." there it was again. you looked down at your papers once more as you tried to sound normal, which unfortunately for you often meant sounding more defensive than intended. you closed your eyes for a fraction of a second and opened them again, because there it was, that same infuriating calm. the same complete lack of effort in sounding like he was trying to win the argument, which somehow made him more annoying than if he had actually been trying. "and for the record," he spoke again as you spiraled inside your mind, making you look cautiously. "you were right before."
you blinked. "about what?"
"social desirability bias." he clicked something on his laptop. "if we're discussing explanations for inconsistent findings, we should include it in the literature section." a pause. "it's relevant."
you looked down at your notes again before he could catch you staring for too long, suddenly becoming very aware of yourself in the way you sometimes did around people. where all at once your hands felt oddly placed and your face felt too visible and you became convinced that if you spoke then, you would sound strange somehow. which was stupid, because you were just discussing research methods. you had spent years doing presentations and group projects and class discussions. you knew how to talk, technically, although you never became fully comfortable to do it in a natural way. you were just forced to do it to keep up, to maintain your grades, your scholarship and, subsequently, your ranking. your ranking, which was casually right behind jake’s. the top two students who had never interacted before up until now, up until they were basically forced to. you wondered if he had ever noticed you were second, or if he had heard your name before. you wondered if he even cared about the rankings or just couldn’t help but get first every single time without trying. you always wondered about his position there, about how he seemed to be untouchable.
there was also a difference between knowing how to talk and actually talking. and for reasons you did not fully understand, talking to jake felt like walking into an exam you had forgotten to study for. the silence had now reached that stage where you had become aware of it, and once you became aware of silence, it became impossible not to think about it. and then you started wondering if the other person was aware of it too, and then you started acting weird because you were thinking about acting weird. "so..." you said.
jake looked up and your brain immediately emptied. absolutely nothing. why had you spoken before knowing what you were going to say? you had an idea in your head literally two seconds ago. where had it gone? jake waited. one second, two seconds. "...so?" he said.
you blinked. "right." you looked down at your papers quickly, pretending to search for something. "i was gonna say something."
"i figured." you grabbed a random article and looked at it despite not reading a single word. "take your time."
you looked up and jake was already looking back at his laptop. his expression hadn't changed at all, completely neutral. which somehow made it impossible to tell if he was making fun of you or not. you narrowed your eyes slightly. "was that sarcastic?"
he looked up slowly. "no." a pause. "should it have been?"
"you're doing that on purpose." you muttered.
"doing what again?” you looked up despite yourself. he was still looking at his screen, still typing. still acting like this whole conversation was happening in the background of something more important. that should have made you feel less nervous, but somehow it didn't, because the fact that he could say something that pointedly and then go right back to his work without changing expression made it feel worse, not better.
"saying that." you said, a little more quietly this time, because saying it out loud had made it feel more ridiculous than it already was. jake finally looked up then, just briefly, as if he was checking whether you were serious or just reacting out of habit.
his face didn't change. "you're the one who keeps looking for a reaction." you opened your mouth, then shut it again, because you had a perfectly good response in your head and it had somehow become impossible to access the second he actually looked at you. which was deeply unfair, because you had spent the entire meeting trying very hard not to look at him too much, and now he was acting like he had some kind of quiet evidence against you.
you crossed your arms and leaned back slightly in your chair, trying to look less thrown off than you felt. "maybe because you keep talking like you're not even in the room."
jake looked back down at his laptop. "i am in the room."
"you know what i mean." "not really."
you stared at him again, and this time you were fairly sure you were doing it because you were annoyed, not because you were waiting for approval, even if the distinction felt a little blurry right then and you did not appreciate that one bit. the thing was, he wasn't exactly wrong, and that was the irritating part. you were trying to see if he agreed, because the whole point of sitting there together was to figure out what actually fit and what didn't, and if he made a face or paused or looked like you were completely off base, you could usually tell before you said something worse. except he never really looked like that, he just listened. and then, when he bothered to answer, he said things like they had always been obvious. which made you feel like you were the one making a big deal out of everything. you hated that feeling. you also hated that you were starting to understand the shape of his attention a little better, because it wasn't warm, and it wasn't especially generous with you, but it was there in a way that made him harder to ignore than if he had been openly hostile.
jake glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at the screen. "we're done for today."
you looked up automatically. "already?"
he nodded once. "we've got enough for a first outline. this is actually the first meeting where we got somewhere useful, to be honest.”
you stared at the page in front of you, at the notes you had actually managed to organize without fully realizing the time had gone by. "fine." you said, a little too fast, because you suddenly needed the meeting to end before you could think too much about how much of it you had spent watching him instead of the article in front of you.
jake already started closing his laptop, no wasted movement, no hesitation. you gathered your own papers more slowly, still trying not to think about the fact that you had just spent an entire afternoon disagreeing with him, only to realize that the disagreement itself had finally got you "somewhere useful". "send me the list of studies you want for the literature section." he said, slipping his laptop into his bag.
you looked up. "i was going to do that."
he glanced at you once, expression still unreadable. "i know."
so you didn't respond at all. you just nodded and looked back down at your notes, pretending to be very busy with the papers in your hands, because if you looked at him too long you were pretty sure you would either say something stupid or stand there doing nothing like an idiot, and neither option felt acceptable. when you finally looked up again, he had already slung his bag over one shoulder and was heading toward the door. he paused only once, hand on the door handle, and looked back at you for a brief second. "friday."
you nodded before you could overthink it. "friday." then he was gone. you sat there for a moment longer than necessary, staring at the empty chair across from you, trying very hard to convince yourself that the only reason your chest felt oddly tight was because the room had been stuffy and you had spent too long inside it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
friday happened. and then the next tuesday happened. and then another thursday. and somewhere between opening shared documents and arguing over article inclusion criteria and listening to professor jones remind both of you for the fourth time that research is collaborative by nature, something deeply irritating started happening. you and jake developed a rhythm. not a friendly rhythm, but a rhythm built entirely on disagreeing with each other. because apparently neither of you could say yes, that works without first trying to dismantle the other person's point from at least three different angles.
which was why, on a tuesday afternoon two weeks later, you were sitting across from him again, staring at your laptop screen with growing irritation. "i still don't think we should only use overall empathy scores."
jake didn't even look up immediately. he kept typing for another few seconds before saying, "why." not why? like a question. just why, flat. like he had dropped the word onto the table and was waiting for you to do something with it.
you frowned immediately. "because empathy isn't one thing." he finally glanced up as you shifted in your chair slightly. "i mean..." you gestured vaguely toward your screen. "the test separates cognitive and affective empathy for a reason. perspective-taking isn't exactly the same thing as emotional response."
jake leaned back a little. "okay."
you narrowed your eyes, already suspicious. "okay what." "okay, keep going."
"why do i feel like you're about to disagree with me?" "because i'm about to disagree with you."
you stared at him. of course he couldn't just let you have three seconds of peace. "why?"
"because if our main question is whether gender moderates the relationship between preoccupied attachment and empathy, adding separate dimensions complicates the interpretation." he rotated his laptop a little toward himself. "if one dimension changes and another doesn't, then suddenly we're discussing three different questions instead of one."
you crossed your arms. "that's literally how research works." "not always."
"yes, always." silence. you stared at him and he stared back. and there was something genuinely horrible about arguing with jake because he never looked irritated. you, meanwhile, could physically feel your face making expressions. your eyebrows pulling together, your eyes narrowing, your mouth doing that thing where it pressed into a line. meanwhile jake looked exactly the same as always, which you hated. you hated it because you couldn't tell if he wasn't affected or if he was just better at hiding it. and somehow the second possibility irritated you even more. "you're oversimplifying it."
he tilted his head slightly. "how."
"because if we separate dimensions and one changes while another doesn't, that's still useful. that tells us something." "about what."
you blinked. "what do you mean about what?"
"i mean exactly what i said." his eyes moved back to the screen briefly. "what does it tell us."
you stared at him. because you had an answer, you absolutely had an answer. you did. you — you had one like two seconds ago. why did your brain keep doing this? why did it keep functioning perfectly until someone actually looked at you? you hated this so much. your eyes dropped to your notes immediately, pretending to search for something. you could feel him waiting, not impatiently, which almost made it worse. because impatient people interrupted, impatient people looked on edge. but jake just sat there, waiting, completely comfortable with silence. and silence had always felt like some kind of social punishment to you, as it happened way too often because you never could actually find the proper words. your brain started doing that thing where it became aware of itself. okay say something. why aren't you saying something. he's waiting. oh my god you've been quiet too long. say literally anything. "because..." you started. great, excellent opening. very strong. "...if affective empathy changes more than cognitive empathy then maybe-" you stopped and jake's eyes lifted. you looked away immediately. "maybe... preoccupied attachment influences emotional responsiveness differently than perspective-taking." silence. you looked down at your laptop, then up. then immediately wished you hadn't, because jake was still looking at you. and for some reason you suddenly became weirdly aware that he was actually listening. he wasn't typing, wasn't scrolling.
then he nodded once. "that's actually good."
you stared. you had spent the last fifteen minutes preparing for disagreement. you had mentally arranged counterarguments that you probably wouldn't be able to fully explain out loud. you had been half ready. and now suddenly — that's actually good? just like that? you narrowed your eyes slightly. "you're agreeing with me?"
jake looked confused. "a little."
you stared harder. "a little?"
he looked at you for a second. then one corner of his mouth moved, barely. honestly it could've been your imagination. "don't look so surprised."
you blinked, because the thing was that you were surprised. somewhere over the last few meetings, without realizing it, you had apparently started expecting disagreement. expecting him to immediately pick apart whatever you said. expecting another why, another not really, anotherokay. and now your brain had already built the response before it even happened, which was ridiculous. completely ridiculous. because you weren't paying attention to him like that, obviously not. except — except lately you had started noticing things accidentally, things you weren't trying to notice. like how he tapped his fingers twice against the table whenever he was reading something carefully. or how he leaned back when he disagreed with something and leaned forward when he actually found it interesting. or how he somehow greeted every single person outside the library. because you knew jake was social, but you didn't fully know he talked to everyone. every single time you walked a few meters out of the library with him after meetings, somebody knew him. "jake!" "hey, man." "are you coming friday?" and every time he would answer easily, naturally, like conversations required absolutely no effort at all. which had honestly felt vaguely offensive to witness, because around you he acted like human interaction had been assigned as coursework. you had seen it now enough times that it wasn’t accidental anymore. he would leave these meetings with you, walk out into the corridor, and immediately become… lighter. someone would call his name and he would look up instantly, respond without delay, like he had been expecting interruption rather than treating it as one. a girl from your seminar group once stopped him mid-walk to ask about an assignment and he had answered while still moving, already halfway into another conversation with someone else behind her, like his attention didn’t have to be gathered first before being distributed. and every time it happened, you found yourself with the same thought you didn’t particularly like having, which was that you didn’t know where that version of him went when he sat across from you. like everyone else got the full version by default and you were just interacting with the edited one. which was ridiculous to think about, objectively.
you looked down at your screen again. you kept your gaze on there a moment too long, not because there was anything left to read, but because looking back up felt like admitting you had been thinking about him at all. which you absolutely had not been doing in any meaningful or concerning way. but you did feel like a creep sometimes, somehow. you had always been aware of jake because he was quite the definition of perfection, almost turning him into a figure you looked up to. you had known he was great at communicating when the situation could obviously bring him something valuable, and he was precise and unreachable in all sort of ways. you already also knew he had no idea of who you were before this, you knew it all. but now, your observations were becoming much more elaborated, detailed and what you felt was more accurate. you couldn’t stop observing because he was everything you wanted to be and somehow found perfect balance within it.
outside the glass wall of the study room, someone laughed too loudly in the corridor and the sound slipped through the silence like it belonged there more than you did. you suddenly became aware of how still the room was when neither of you were speaking, how jarring it was compared to the constant low-level motion of everything else on campus, and how jake didn’t seem to experience that shift at all. he went back to typing — no reaction, no follow-up, no “expand on that” or “explain it better” or even a minimal acknowledgement beyond what he had already given you. which was, annoyingly, enough. you shifted slightly in your chair and tried to refocus on the article in front of you, but your eyes kept snagging on lines without processing them properly, which was frustrating in a very specific way. you knew you understood the material, you knew you were capable of following this conversation, and yet somehow your attention kept slipping sideways like it had decided there were more important variables in the room than the paper. you exhaled softly through your nose and dragged your cursor down the page again, forcing yourself back into the text with more intention this time, as if you could physically outpace your own attention if you tried hard enough.
“okay.” jake said suddenly without looking up. you straightened a fraction too quickly, because your brain still hadn’t fully adjusted to the fact that he didn’t announce transitions the way other people did. he paused his scrolling. “we should probably decide if we’re treating empathy as a moderator or a mediating variable before the next outline, otherwise we’re going to keep looping on the same interpretation problem.” he spoke like he had already done the internal version of the argument and was now reporting the result.
you stared at him for a second longer than necessary, then looked back down at your screen as if the answer to your own competence was printed somewhere in the margins. “i think it depends on what we’re prioritising.” you said, and you hated how careful your voice sounded when you said it, like you were checking every word before letting it exist outside your head. jake finally looked up properly this time, not immediately responding, just watching you in that brief, neutral way of his that didn’t give anything away and somehow made you more aware of your own phrasing.
“go on.” he said.
you leaned forward slightly, because if you were going to say this, you were going to say it properly. "if we treat empathy as a moderator,” you continued, slower now but more controlled, “then we’re basically saying it changes the strength or direction of the attachment relationship depending on its level, which makes sense if our goal is to explain variability in findings across samples. but if we treat it as a mediator, then we’re implying attachment influences empathy, which then influences whatever outcome we’re implicitly assuming is downstream, and that shifts the entire theoretical framing of preoccupied attachment in a way i don’t think we’ve actually justified yet.”
silence again. jake didn’t respond immediately. “moderator makes more sense for the scope.” he said finally, like it had been reduced down to something that simple. “we don’t have longitudinal data anyway, so mediation would be speculative at best". that was it. not wrong, not corrected. not reframed in a way that made you feel like you had missed something obvious. just… aligned. that again felt more disorienting than when he disagreed with you.
you nodded anyway, because you didn’t know what else your face was supposed to do in response to agreement that didn’t come with any emotional signal attached to it. “right.” you said, a beat late. “yes. that makes sense.”
jake had already turned back to his laptop. “cool.” he said as he resumed typing like the conversation had simply been another step in a process he was moving through, not something that had required negotiation at all. you sat there for a moment longer than you should have, staring at the same line in your document, realizing with a slow, uncomfortable clarity that you were starting to adjust your thinking in real time just to keep up with the pace at which he seemed to arrive at conclusions.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the thing about working with jake was that it never actually felt like it started. there was no clear beginning, no moment where you agreed to become whatever you were now. it just… kept happening. friday turned into tuesday turned into another thursday, and suddenly your shared document had folders inside folders, and your notes had actual structure, and professor jones had stopped reminding you what “collaboration” meant because he assumed you had figured it out. you hadn’t, you were just surviving it better. sampling hadn’t even been finalized yet, which was the worst part of it. every time you thought you were close, jake would ask one question that made you realize you were still missing something fundamental. “why are we excluding first-year students again?”
you didn’t look up from your notes. “because attachment measures are unstable in early adaptation phases.”
“that’s not a source.” he said immediately.
you sighed through your nose. “it’s implied in the methodology section of-”
“no,” he cut in, calm as ever. “it’s not.”
you stopped typing. not because you didn’t have an answer, because you did. you just hated when he was right in a way that required you to actually go back and verify your own confidence. you clicked your pen once against the table. “fine,” you said. “then we include them and control for year variance.”
jake nodded once like that was the obvious outcome the whole time. “fine.” he said and went back to typing. that was the rhythm now. not agreement, just adjustment. you said something, he poked at it until it either collapsed or stabilized. you did the same to him. neither of you ever called it teamwork, you just called it necessary.
except it wasn’t just that anymore. because somewhere in between building sampling criteria and arguing over scale reliability, you had started noticing even more things that had nothing to do with the project. like how you both had begun asking things that weren’t strictly necessary, even when neither of you fully ever answered. “you usually stay up late before deadlines?”
you looked up from your laptop, suspicious immediately. “why?”
he didn’t even look phased. “just asking.”
you narrowed your eyes. “that’s not a research question.”
“it is if it affects output consistency.”
you stared at him. “you’re insane.” you said finally.
he nodded once. “dramatic.” and then went back to the document like he hadn’t just casually asked about your sleep schedule. you didn’t answer him, but you started noticing that he stayed online later too. not in a way that felt performative. if you were still editing at midnight, his cursor would still be there in the shared doc, quietly adjusting formatting or fixing citations without saying anything.
the ranking came up sometimes. not between you directly, never directly. but it always affected how you saw him, no matter how much time you spent together. someone in your lecture would gasp when they saw the board. “jake’s even more insane this semester.” “he’s literally top one again.” and then — “is that girl still second tier?” "who?". you would pretend not to hear it, you were very good at pretending not to hear things. you didn't know if jake ever heard them too.
“did you finalize the variables list?” “are we locking the likert scaling or adjusting for cultural bias?” “did you check the cronbach alpha ranges for similar studies?”. jake interrupted your train of thought with a million questions every time you got lost inside your own head thinking about it. still, you would answer. and then there were the moments that made your brain feel like it was misfiring entirely. like when you realized he had started noticing some of your patterns too, in a way that made you uncomfortable in a very specific direction. at least you weren’t the only one going insane because of how many evenings you were spending on doing that damn project, you thought.
you had stayed late alone in the library one night, rereading the same paragraph for so long you stopped processing it. he casually arrived, not saying hello immediately. he just sat down across from you and looked at your screen for a second. “you’re not reading that anymore.” he said.
you didn’t look up. “i am.” “you’ve been on the same line for how much time?”
silence. you clicked your pen harder than necessary. “i’m fine.”
he didn’t respond immediately. “you always seem to do that when you’re overwhelmed.”
your fingers paused as you looked up. “what?”
he shrugged slightly. “you repeat sections. like it resets something.”
you felt something uncomfortable move in your chest. not because he was wrong, but because he was accurate in a way you hadn’t authorized him to be. “it’s just focus.” you said.
“no,” he replied, simple again. “it’s more like avoidance.”
you shut your laptop slightly, not enough to close it. “you’re reading too much into it, i fear.” you said.
jake leaned back. “maybe.” but he didn’t sound like he believed that, and that was worse. he spoke like he had noted something and decided not to touch it further as if it wasn’t his place. which was new, because he seemed to have a place in everything. your thoughts started doing that thing again, where they tried to categorize him. you started packing your things too quickly, suddenly deciding it was time to go home.
“we should split spss variables next week.” you said.
he nodded. “already started it.”
you froze slightly. “you did?”
“just coding structure.” he said. “didn’t run anything.”
of course he had, of course he had already started without telling you. “send it to me.” you said as you stood up.
he nodded. then, he spoke again after a pause. “did you sleep last night?”
you stopped your movements to look at him. “what?”
he didn’t look up from his laptop screen. “you didn’t sleep last night, right?”
it wasn’t a question. denial felt pointless when he said it like that. like it was already observed, already logged. “it’s fine.” you said instead.
he nodded once. “okay.” but he said it like he didn’t believe that either.
you looked at him for a second too long after that, which was becoming one of your more irritating habits around him. because the problem with jake was that he could say something that sounded like nothing and somehow make it feel like he had seen more than he should have. not in a sentimental way, not in a dramatic way. just in the quiet, inconvenient way people did when they noticed details you would have preferred to keep unregistered. you looked back down before he could catch you still thinking about it. the library was almost empty by then, the kind of late that made the air feel flatter and the lights feel too bright for how little of the room anyone was actually using. jake was still packing up and unpacking nothing in that casual, efficient way of his, one hand resting against the edge of the table while he kept half a eye on the document as if he could will the dataset into finishing itself. you should have gone back to picking up your things, but you didn’t. “you always say that.” you muttered before you had fully decided to speak.
he paused. “say what.”
“okay,” you said, mimicking him badly on purpose, which was the closest you ever got to being openly petty around him. “like that.”
jake glanced at you briefly, his expression unreadable in the exact way that made you immediately suspect he had understood more of your tone than you wanted him to. “it was a fine answer.”
“fine as in?” you made a small sound of frustration through your nose, then shut your laptop a little harder than necessary. not enough to make a scene, just enough to feel like you had done something with your hands.
the thing was, you had started to recognize the structure of this, too. the way neither of you ever really let the conversation stop at whatever it was initially about. it would begin with variables or scales or sample criteria, and then somehow, without either of you fully meaning to, it would drift into something else, something less concrete. which was how you ended up saying, “you’re one to talk, anyway. do you ever actually sleep? i always see you here, or around, or logged into the doc.” like it was a research question and not, very clearly, not that.
jake looked up. “yes.” “that was too fast.” “you asked like you wanted a fight.”
you stared at him. “i always sound like i want a fight to you.” “because you do.”
“i’m asking because you’re always here.” you said after a beat, more carefully now, like you were trying to step around the shape of your own curiosity before it became obvious. “which is not the same thing as sleeping.”
jake leaned back slightly in his chair. “you’re always here too.”
you looked up immediately. “that is not the same.”
“why not?” “because i have reasons.” “i also have my reasons.”
that made you pause. you hated that he had said it so easily, so neutrally, because now it sounded like you were the only one who had turned this into a personal pattern when, apparently, he had one too. you looked away first, which was getting embarrassing in its own way, because it happened almost automatically now. “sure.” you muttered. “your reason is probably just being annoyingly productive.”
he didn’t react right away, and for a second you thought maybe that was too close to a compliment and he had decided not to dignify it. then he said, “and your reason is probably panic.”
you turned your head so fast you almost regretted it. “excuse me?”
he looked at you now, completely calm, one eyebrow moving just a fraction like he was genuinely amused by the reaction and not the content. “you look more alive when you’re stressed.” he said.
you blinked. that should have sounded insulting. maybe it was insulting, maybe that was the point. but the way he said it made it land in a different place, somewhere too specific to dismiss and too strange to take seriously. “that’s a weird thing to say.” you said carefully.
“it’s true.” “no, it’s weird.” “both can be true.”
you stared at him for a second, then looked back down at the floor because if you stayed looking at him, you were pretty sure your brain would start doing something stupid like trying to decide whether he meant that in a clinical way or an observant way. there was a stretch of silence after that that didn’t feel hostile, which was somehow worse. so you decided to change the topic of discussion. “we still need to finish the sampling justification before friday.” you said, a little too quickly, because you had the uncomfortable feeling the conversation was moving somewhere you didn’t know how to stay in.
he nodded. “i know.”
“and the staffing numbers.” “mmh.” “and you need to send me the spss stuff.” “yeah.”
you looked up at him. “do you always answer like that when you’re tired?”
he paused, then glanced at you. “like what?”
“like you’re doing me a favor by remaining conscious.”
for one second, nothing happened. and then, to your absolute horror, he laughed. not a lot, not enough to make a big deal out of it. just one short, unexpected sound that slipped out before he could stop it, and it was so unlike the usual tone he used with you that it made your stomach drop in a completely different way than the argument did. you froze. he froze too, if only for a second. then his face settled back into that familiar neutral expression like the sound had never happened. but you had heard it, you definitely had. you stared at him as he looked down at his laptop. “what?”
you opened your mouth, then shut it again. because for one awful, amazing, deeply inconvenient second, you had laughed too. it came out sharp and surprised, barely there, the kind of laugh that felt like it had escaped from somewhere you didn’t mean to open. you pressed your lips together immediately after, as if you could pretend it had not happened if you became physically still enough. jake looked up at you again, but this time his expression had changed by the smallest amount. not a smile, exactly. just that tiny shift at the mouth that made you think he was aware of what had just happened and not sure whether to acknowledge it. “that was not funny.” he said.
you huffed, still trying not to look too pleased with yourself. “you laughed first.”
“barely.” “you still laughed.” “you did too.”
you stared at him and he stared back. and then it happened again, worse than before because now you were both trying not to do it and failing in the exact same moment. your shoulders shook once, his mouth twitched. you both looked away almost immediately, like eye contact had become a liability. “this is stupid. this thing has officially made us lose our minds.” you said, voice too tight to sound convincing.
“agreed.” he said. you stood there for a second, trying to rearrange your face into something more normal, while your brain replayed the sound of it over and over like it was trying to memorize a mistake.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you opened your laptop again because that was what you were supposed to do. because the project still existed. because spss still existed. because the sampling still needed cleaning and your regression outputs were still an unholy mess and no amount of accidental laughter was going to change that. and because you were suddenly, painfully aware of how little sleep you had been getting. you had been aware of it before, obviously. but it had been sitting in your body more loudly these days. the weekend shifts on top of the project work, the reading, the note-making. the constant checking of the ranking board when you passed it in the corridor, pretending not to look while your stomach still tightened every time you saw your own name underneath his. the scholarship renewal form waiting in your email draft folder like a quiet threat. you were tired all the time. not enough to stop, just enough to feel yourself fraying in increments. and somehow the worst part was that jake noticed before you said anything. not dramatically, not as some great emotional insight. he just seemed to clock when your answers got shorter, when your attention slipped, when you started rereading the same sentence too many times. and every time he noticed, he said something like it was normal. “you missed the same word twice.” “you haven’t moved from that tab in ten minutes.” “you look like you haven’t eaten.” you hated that those things were true more than you hated that he said them.
he still talked to everyone outside the library, still moved through the campus like he belonged to it in a way you never fully did, but now you also noticed that he always, always pretended not to be tired until the last possible second. he asked you once, very casually, “do you still work on saturdays?”
you looked up from the screen. “why?”
“just asking.” “but you don’t just ask. so why?”
he looked up, briefly, as if surprised you had said that. “because if you’re working every saturday and then coming here afterward, it explains why you keep looking half-dead.”
you hated that your first instinct was not to deny it. you hated that your second instinct was to ask how obvious it was. instead you said, “i don’t look half-dead.”
“you do sometimes.” “sometimes.”
“fine,” he said, almost mildly. “most times.”
you made a face at the screen. “you’re being rude.” “i’m just being accurate.”
and because you were tired and your defenses were thinner when you were tired, you heard yourself say, “well, sorry i can’t afford to look fresh and academically superior all the time.” the sentence was meant to be sarcastic, but it landed and went quiet for a second. jake looked at you then, really looked at you, and there was something in the expression that made your throat tighten before you could stop it. not pity. thank god, not pity. just recognition. you immediately regretted the whole sentence. “i didn’t mean-” you started.
“i know.” he said, very quickly and very flatly, like he was cutting off the part where you would start overexplaining and making it worse.
you blinked. he had said it like a clarification, not a reassurance, which somehow made it easier to accept. you looked down at your laptop. “okay.” you said, quieter.
and because he apparently couldn’t leave anything completely alone, he added, “you should probably eat something before you start another round of edits.”
you stared at the screen. “are you my mom now?”
that got him again, that tiny almost-laugh, the one that wasn’t quite one. “no,” he said. “my mom would tell you to sleep.”
you stared at him for half a second too long, and the thing was you could have left it there. you should have left it there. “good to know you think i’m below sleep deprivation standards.” you said.
“you are.” “wow.”
he shrugged lightly. “it’s not an insult.”
“it kind of is.” “only if you’re proud of this.”
you stared at him. and then, despite yourself, despite the exhaustion and the rankings and the scholarship and the fact that your life had been measuring itself against a list you couldn’t stop looking at, you laughed again. quieter this time, because the way he said it was so absurdly dry that your body didn’t even have time to resist. jake looked at you for a second, then went back to the screen like nothing had happened. but his mouth had that tiny thing again, that almost-not-smile he wore like it cost him nothing. and you hated how your body didn’t seem capable of stopping your wait for the next one.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the thing about finally reaching the results stage was that both of you had spent so much time preparing for it that it almost felt anticlimactic when it actually happened. because there had been weeks of articles and coding structures and sample discussions and methodological decisions that had somehow managed to generate fifty arguments over things that normal people would probably not even recognize as real issues. and now suddenly there were actual numbers in front of you. actual output tables, actual things to interpret instead of endlessly preparing to interpret things. it should have been satisfying, except jake had apparently decided to become unbearable. “okay,” he said, scrolling through the output with the kind of confidence that immediately made you suspicious. “so the effect sizes aren't that strong, but they're still meaningful enough to support the direction.”
you looked up slowly. “what?”
he glanced at you. “what what.”
you stared at him. “you cannot just say that.”
he blinked once. “why not?”
“because that's not-” you physically leaned closer to look at his screen. “jake.”
he looked back at it, then at you, then back at it. “what?”
“you're literally making conclusions before we even finish checking assumptions.”
he looked unconcerned, almost amused. “i'm not making conclusions.”
“you just said "support the direction".” “because it does.”
“no,” you said immediately, “it suggests a direction.”
“same thing.” “absolutely not the same thing.”
he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as if he was waiting for you to keep talking. you narrowed your eyes immediately, because there it was. that stupid thing he did, that look that said explain. that challenge that somehow always sounded like he was handing you a microphone in front of an audience you hadn't prepared for. you hated it and you hated him for it. you leaned forward toward your laptop. “because you're already writing like we proved something definitive.” you pointed at the screen aggressively. “results sections don't interpret outcomes like that.”
“they literally interpret outcomes.” “not like that.”
he raised an eyebrow. “okay.”
you looked at him suspiciously. “don't okay me.”
“i'm listening.” “no, because you're doing that thing.” “what thing?” “the thing where you sit there and pretend you're not disagreeing while very clearly disagreeing.” “i'm not disagreeing.” “jake.” “y/n.”
you stared at him, realizing how much you hated how calm he always looked. you could feel your mouth pulling and your eyes narrowing like they always did, probably making you look ridiculous. meanwhile, he looked so pretty it made you feel envious of a man. you could see his eyelashes from the proper distance your chair was at, casually fluttering at you in a mesmerizing manner. his lips looked glossy, almost as if he had applied something to them, although you knew it was all just natural for him. his bangs were down in a perfectly messy way, like gravity was his hair’s biggest ally every morning. gosh, you hated him so much. you quickly shook your head as you tried to physically snap yourself out of your trance, trying not to look like the weirdo who was just analyzing every detail of his appearance. “results sections are descriptive,” you continued while trying to act nonchalant, pointing at his screen again. “you're good at synthesizing information and making broader arguments, but that's discussion section stuff. you're skipping steps.”
he looked at you for a second, then glanced back down. “i'm not skipping steps.”
“you are.” “i'm being efficient.”
you let out a dry laugh. “that's a really interesting way to say overconfident.”
he looked offended for approximately half a second. “overconfident.”
“yes.” “that's harsh.” “just like you said, that's just accurate.”
silence. you watched him with crossed arms, trying very hard not to look smug because you already knew that stupid face. the hold on face. the i might actually be checking if you're right face. he stared at the screen another second. "...okay maybe."
you stared. "...maybe?"
he glanced at you. “don't make that face.”
you almost laughed. “what face?”
“that i was right face.” “i don't have a face.” “you absolutely have a face.”
you physically felt your mouth trying to move, but you stopped it immediately. you were not smiling over winning an argument about statistical reporting. that was embarrassing, deeply embarrassing. still — “so i was right.”
jake sighed dramatically, which almost never happened. “fine.”
“jake admitted i was right...”
he looked up. “once.”
“i need to write this down.” “okay now you're annoying.”
you smiled a little before you could stop it, small enough that maybe it didn't count. “you know,” you said, leaning back slightly now, “you do this all the time.”
he narrowed his eyes. “do what.”
“you jump ahead.” he looked confused. “in general.”
“what does that mean.”
you gestured vaguely toward his laptop. “you get excited about an idea and then immediately start connecting everything before it's even there yet.” he stared at you and you stared back. then added, “you're good at putting things together. too good.”
he looked down at the table for a second, tapping his fingers lightly against it. “and you're annoying.”
you narrowed your eyes. “excuse me?”
“you slow things down.” you stared as he absentmindedly kept speaking. “every time i think something makes sense, you start questioning it until i have to actually justify it.”
you blinked. "that's literally criticism."
“mmh.” “was that an insult anyway?”
“not really.” you stared harder, because his tone hadn't changed at all. he was still typing, still looking at the screen. still acting like he hadn't just said something weird enough to throw your brain slightly off balance. “you're basically quality control.”
you looked at him. "now it sounds like a compliment.” “don't make it weird.”
“you did.” you stared at him for another second to immediately look back down at your laptop, because suddenly your brain had decided to become strange about something that objectively wasn't strange. because it wasn't, obviously.
jake had an ego, a massive one. and over the last few months you had confirmed he knew he was good at things. he knew he was smart, he knew he could walk into a room and make people listen. and yet, he had looked at you after realizing he was wrong and hadn't fought it, hadn't defended himself into the ground. he had just adjusted, which felt weirdly significant. you were still thinking about that when he suddenly looked down at his phone. and then there it was, that tiny shift you always saw. that tiny thing you'd started noticing more lately. he looked at the time, locked the screen again and then looked back at his laptop. then at the time again. and for some reason you already knew what he was about to say before he opened his mouth. he was definitely leaving earlier. not dramatically, not enough to be called out. just enough that you noticed because the first few times he had stayed until nearly closing, the library doors glassing over with the dark outside while he still had his sleeves pushed up and his notes scattered in front of him like he had nowhere else to be. now he would start closing his laptop before you did, check his phone once, and give you a vague time estimate that sounded almost too casual to matter. “i’ve got to go in twenty.”
“mmh.” you only murmured.
he looked at you for half a second, then back down at the document. “plans.”
that should have been the end of it. you nodded without looking up, because of course he had plans. it would be deeply strange if he didn’t, he was not you. he had actual social skills and wouldn’t only spend the entire week trying to outrun a scholarship deadline, a project deadline, a weekend shift, and the constant low-grade panic of knowing the rankings board would be updated again soon and that your name would likely still be sitting under his like a fact you could not afford to ignore. he had friends, he had people who wanted him elsewhere. and if he could leave the library earlier because he had somewhere to be, then that was just him being a functioning person with a life outside the project. there was nothing to get hung up on. nothing. still, when he stood up ten minutes later and reached for his bag, your eyes did that stupid thing where they tracked him before you could stop them. “you’re leaving?” you asked, and you hated how flat it sounded, because it was not really a question and it was not really casual either, which made it the worst possible version of both.
he glanced at you, one hand still on the chair. “yeah. i told you.”
“you said twenty minutes.” the words came out of your mouth without much thought put into them, which you quickly regretted.
“it’s been twenty.”
you looked at the screen, looked back at him and looked down again, because you could not, under any circumstances, let the irritation in your chest become visible on your face for something that objectively did not concern you. “right,” you said. “yeah.”
he paused. not long, just enough to make you aware that he had noticed the tone shift, though he did not seem interested enough to comment on it. then, after a beat, “do you need anything else before i go?”
you looked up at that. not because the question was surprising, because it was not. he asked practical things like that all the time. the surprise was that it landed in a way that made you suddenly more aware of how little of the project he actually left unfinished when he did this. he always asked, always checked, always made sure there was no immediate loose end. and because of that, it would have been ridiculous to say yes just to keep him there, which was not something you would ever do because you were a rational person who did not need to manufacture reasons for anyone to stay in a room with you. so instead you said, “no.” and then, because silence suddenly felt too pointed, you added, “you can go.”
his eyes moved over you for a second. you hated that. you hated being looked at long enough to start wondering what expression you were making. but then he nodded once, unsurprised. “okay.” he said.
and that was it, he left just like that. which, objectively, was fine. you told yourself it was fine while staring at the empty chair across from you and pretending to reread the same paragraph for the fourth time. he had plans, you did not own his time. you did not want his time. you just needed his timing to be more consistent because it made the work easier, which was all this was, all it had ever been. the fact that his leaving earlier now felt like the shape of something missing was just your brain being inconvenient and tired and, frankly, a little overdramatic. you worked for another hour after that, but the page kept blurring at the edges in a way that had nothing to do with the text. somewhere down the hall, someone spoke out loud. somewhere else, chairs scraped across the floor. the library was still full of people who had somewhere to be, and that should have made you feel better, or at least normal. except all it really did was remind you that jake had simply gone somewhere else, and you were there, which was also normal, and therefore should not have felt so pointed. you hated that he got to be nonchalant about it. you hated, more than that, that he had every right to be. and because you were not going to let yourself think too hard about that, you did what you always did when something pressed too closely against a thought you did not want: you changed the subject in your own head. there was still work to do, there was always work to do. and if you stayed long enough in the quiet of it, maybe the feeling would wear itself thin before you had to name it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the realization happened completely by accident. which was annoying, because if there was one thing you had learned over the years, it was that the discoveries that managed to get under your skin were never the dramatic ones. they weren't the revelations, they were the offhand comments, the things people said when they weren't paying attention. it happened three weeks later. the project had reached the stage where every task somehow generated three additional tasks behind it. every answer created a new problem, every cleaned variable revealed something else that needed fixing. you had spent most of the afternoon correcting participant coding because someone had apparently decided that following instructions was optional. you were tired, more tired than usual, actually. the kind of tired that sat behind your eyes and made every conversation feel half a second slower than it should have been. you genuinely didn’t want to be there or anywhere that wasn’t your room, which was an emotion you were feeling a little too often lately. but instead, you and jake had been sitting in the library for almost two hours, arguing. again.
"i'm telling you, that's not an outlier." "it literally is." "it doesn't meet the threshold." "because you're using the wrong threshold." jake leaned back in his chair as you leaned forward. somewhere in the distance, a printer made a horrible mechanical noise.
"again, those aren't mutually exclusive." you glared at him and he ignored you completely, which somehow made it worse. you opened your mouth to continue the argument when somebody appeared beside the table.
"jake." both of you looked up. it was one of the guys you knew you both shared a class with, but you couldn’t fully remember which one. you vaguely recognized him.
"hey." "did professor wilson move the deadline?" jake immediately switched into that version of himself, as if a switch had been turned on. easier, lighter, like social interaction operated on a completely different set of rules for him.
"yeah, yeah." "to monday?" "pretty sure."
the guy groaned. "thank god." jake laughed. you looked back at your laptop, because this wasn't your conversation. because there was no reason to pay attention. "honestly," the guy continued, dropping his backpack onto a nearby chair, "i thought i was cooked. especially with rankings updating this week." your fingers paused, just for a second. rankings. you kept staring at your screen. didn't react, didn't move. "you're still first anyway."
jake made a face. "don't remind me."
the guy laughed. "what? scared somebody's finally coming for you? you've literally been first for more than two years."
"yeah." "so?" you clicked your mouse. kept looking at the same paragraph, the same sentence, the same word. because suddenly you were listening, which you knew was stupid.
"so eventually people get weird about it."
the guy snorted. "people are already weird about it."
"exactly." you heard papers shifting, chairs moving, conversation continuing somewhere above your head. and then —
"besides." jake's voice, speaking casually. "i've had somebody sitting right behind me since first year." everything inside your head stopped. just enough that the next few words arrived strangely, like your brain needed an extra second to process them.
"yeah, but she's not catching you."
you stared at your screen, your cursor blinked. jake shrugged. "you don't know that." something tightened unpleasantly in your chest.
the guy laughed. "come on."
"what?" "she's been second forever." "and?" "and you're still first."
you heard jake exhale through his nose. not annoyed, not defensive, just certain. "that's not really how that works."
silence, a short one, the kind that only lasts a second. but it was enough. enough for the guy to look confused, enough for you to stop reading entirely and enough for your stomach to do something uncomfortable. because suddenly you weren't hearing the conversation anymore, you were hearing one specific thing. i've had somebody sitting right behind me since first year. you had always assumed the rankings mattered differently. you checked because you had to. because your scholarship depended on it, because staying second was survival and becoming third was a problem and dropping lower than that was unthinkable. you checked because every semester felt like standing on the edge of something. but jake? jake didn't need to check, jake was first. he had been first forever. you had always assumed he occupied that position carelessly, without thinking about it. without noticing it, without needing to. and yet — i've had somebody sitting right behind me since first year. which meant he knew. not just now, not just recently, he had known. the thought landed strangely. because the truth was you had spent an embarrassing amount of time assuming that you barely existed in his academic universe before your first little social development project encounter. you had never imagined he paid attention to it from the other side.
you became aware of the conversation ending. the other guy leaving, the chair scraping against the floor, the room returning to normal. jake sat back down, opened his laptop and looked at the document, completely unaware that your brain had become stuck on something deeply stupid. or maybe aware, as it had been getting harder to tell these days. you stared at the same line for another ten seconds. then twenty. "what?" you looked up. jake was watching you, so you immediately looked back down.
"nothing." "you've been staring at the same sentence."
you hated that he noticed that. "it's called reading."
"it's called not reading, actually."
you clicked your pen, trying very hard not to ask a question that would immediately reveal how much attention you had been paying. because that would be deeply embarrassing and objectively unnecessary. "you check the rankings?" the words escaped before you could stop them.
jake blinked, like the question itself was strange. "yeah."
you stared. that was it, yeah. like you had asked whether he checked his email. "why?"
he looked genuinely confused now. "why wouldn't i?"
and somehow that answer was worse, because there was no arrogance in it. no competitive edge, just simple confusion. you looked away first again, which was becoming a problem. "i don't know."
"mmh." he returned to the document. conversation over, just like that. you sat there staring at your screen while your brain performed increasingly unnecessary calculations around a piece of information that should not have mattered.
"useful." "yeah." "for what?" "seeing where people are."
you stared. "that's incredibly vague."
"it's rankings." he looked back at the screen. "they're literally designed to show where people are."
you looked away before he could see the involuntary twitch at the corner of your mouth. he was annoying. the conversation again should have ended there. instead you heard yourself ask, "so you actually pay attention to them?"
his fingers paused briefly over the keyboard. "depends."
"on what?" "who."
your stomach did something unpleasant. you immediately focused very hard on the document in front of you, which unfortunately did not stop you from hearing your own voice ask, "who?"
silence, not a long one. just enough to make you aware you had probably sounded more interested than intended. "people near me." there it was again, simple, easy. like the answer should have been obvious.
you nodded slowly, pretending that explained absolutely everything. "and apparently you've had somebody right behind you since first year."
jake glanced up, and for the first time since the conversation started, something shifted slightly in his expression. not surprise, more like realization, like he had finally figured out what you were actually asking. "yeah." you looked down at your laptop.
"i thought you didn't pay attention to that stuff." "why?" "because you're first."
he leaned back slightly, thinking. "those two things don't seem related."
you hated how quickly he said that, like it had never occurred to him they might be. "i just assumed you wouldn't care."
"you assume a lot when it comes to me. and i didn't say i cared."
you blinked. that answer threw you off immediately. "then why look?"
he shrugged. "same reason everybody does."
you almost laughed. "that is absolutely not true." "okay." "most people aren't first."
"and?" you stared and he stared back. calm, patient, infuriating. eventually he looked away first. "you're making rankings sound way more dramatic than they are."
you nearly choked. because if there was one thing in the entire world that had never been casual for you, it was rankings. rankings determined scholarships, rankings determined funding. rankings determined whether next semester would be manageable or impossible. rankings determined whether all the hours were worth something. rankings had never once been casual. meanwhile jake was sitting there talking about them like it was nothing. you looked down before your face could betray anything. "easy for you to say." the words slipped out before you could stop them.
silence. when you looked up again, he was watching you. and suddenly you wished you had said literally anything else. "i guess." you couldn't tell whether he understood what you meant or whether he had decided not to ask. after a minute, he said, "i knew who you were before this whole thing, you know?"
your eyes immediately lifted, but jake didn't. he was still looking at the spreadsheet, still typing, like he hadn't just casually inserted himself into the worst thought process you'd had all week. "what?"
"you seemed surprised. and since you assume a lot, you had probably assumed i didn’t."
you stared. "we had basically never talked until all of this. so yeah, i don’t think it was such a crazy guess."
he shrugged. "i still knew who you were. you sometimes answer questions in class. not often, but when you do." your brain immediately supplied every lecture hall from the last three years. every time a professor had waited too long for somebody to answer, every time silence became unbearable. every time you'd reluctantly spoken because of participation marks, because there was no other option.
"you always sit near the aisle. you leave immediately after class." your stomach tightened, slightly. "and." he paused, then added, "you never talk to anybody before lectures start. see?" you looked away immediately. because that one landed too accurately, too directly. the silence stretched and jake looked back at his laptop, apparently finished. meanwhile your brain was still stuck three sentences ago, because none of those observations sounded important, they sounded ordinary. the kind of details people noticed accidentally, which somehow made them harder to dismiss. and for the first time, you found yourself wondering something you had never really considered before. had he been watching you just how you had been watching him?
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you were tired. and the thing about burnout was that nobody ever told you how boring it was. people talked about breakdowns like they happened all at once. like one day you were functioning and the next day you were crying in a parking lot or failing all your classes or staring dramatically into the distance while your life collapsed around you. but mostly it was just repetition. it was waking up tired, then waking up tired again, then waking up tired enough that you stopped being surprised by it. it was reading the same paragraph four times and only realizing afterward that you hadn't processed a single word. it was opening your laptop with a headache that never fully left. it was drinking coffee because you were tired and then being too anxious to sleep because you had consumed enough caffeine to chemically alter your blood type.
and the worst part was that none of it looked serious from the outside — you were still getting things done, your grades were still high, the scholarship was still intact, you still showed up. which meant nobody out of the two people you talked to really had a reason to worry. including you, especially you. because every time the exhaustion started feeling noticeable, there was always something more urgent waiting behind it. an assignment, a shift at work, the project. the rankings, always the rankings. the ranking board had become something you checked constantly, feeling like it was the only thing you had some control over. every other day your eyes went to the same two names. jake. you. sometimes the gap changed, sometimes it didn't. sometimes you gained points, sometimes he gained more. but he always stayed first, and you always stayed second, and every single week you told yourself it didn't matter. every single week your stomach tightened anyway. because second place sounded impressive until you realized first place existed. and first place had a name.
and unfortunately for you, first place also kept asking if you had eaten lunch, which somehow made the whole thing worse. the semester kept moving and you kept moving with it, mostly. until one afternoon your phone buzzed while you were halfway through finishing coding participant responses. you ignored it, but it buzzed again. then again. finally you looked down. jess. for a second you just stared at the screen, because you hadn't spoken to jess in almost four months. not properly, not beyond the occasional reaction emoji or one-word response she dropped into conversations before disappearing again. the funny thing was that the sight of her name didn't even surprise you anymore. there was a pattern to these things, there always had been. jess vanished, jess travelled somewhere, jess forgot everyone existed. jess reappeared, repeat. you opened the message.
jess: oh my god
jess: are you busy
jess: i need to tell you something
you stared at it, then at the typing bubble that appeared immediately afterward.
jess: it's an emergency
you already knew it wasn't. or rather, you knew exactly what kind of emergency it was. three dots appeared, then disappeared, just to appear again.
jess: i think ethan is actually the worst person alive
there it was. you leaned back in your chair. somewhere in the distance a professor was explaining something to a student. somebody dropped a pen, somebody laughed. you just stared at your screen. and suddenly a memory surfaced so clearly it felt recent. first year, late-night study sessions, sharing notes, getting coffee between lectures. jess talking for hours while you listened, back when friendship had felt reciprocal. or maybe when you had simply been too optimistic to notice it wasn't. after all, she had been the only friend you had made during your college years.
your thumb hovered over the keyboard, because the thing was you already knew how this conversation would go, you could practically predict it. you would listen, jess would vent and you would help. she would feel better, then she would disappear again. and in a month or two there would be another emergency: another boyfriend, another friendship drama, another crisis. and somehow there would always be room in her life for your attention, just never actual room for you. the realization arrived so quietly that it almost didn't feel like a realization at all, more like finally reading a sentence you had been skimming for years.
your phone buzzed again.
jess: hello???
jess: are you alive
you stared at the messages, and for the first time in a very long time, you didn't immediately answer. instead you looked at the clock, looked at the spreadsheet, looked at the participant responses, looked at the list of assignments due next week. looked at the exhaustion sitting permanently somewhere behind your eyes. you felt something unpleasant twist in your chest, like disappointment that had finally gotten tired of disguising itself as understanding. because suddenly you couldn't stop thinking about all the messages you had sent over the years. all the conversations that had ended with no reply, all the updates she had forgotten, all the times she had said sorry i've been busy before immediately disappearing again. and the worst part was that you had accepted it, every single time.
because having part of a friendship had seemed better than having none. and when it was good, it was really good. jess was one of those people that made everyone comfortable no matter what. one of those people that saw much more from you than your initial single word answers said in an anxious manner. she was someone who gave you an opportunity when no one else did, and the thought of that was sometimes, or most times, enough.
your phone buzzed once more.
jess: seriously i need help
the messages started becoming ridiculous. at first, you ignored them because you were angry, then you ignored them because you didn't know what to say. which was how you ended up with twenty three unread messages from jess spread across almost two weeks. some were memes, some were photos. some were random observations she apparently felt compelled to share despite receiving absolutely nothing back. another was a screenshot of some guy's text messages followed by:
jess: am i insane or is he insane
you had stared at it for nearly five minutes before locking your phone and putting it face down. the next day there had been another message.
jess: wow thanks for the support
you hadn't answered that either. then there had been silence for almost four days, and for some reason those four days had felt worse than the messages. because it made you realize you had spent the entire time expecting another one, which was humiliating.
then friday night, after finishing a shift that had lasted too long and dealing with a customer who had somehow managed to ask for four different managers despite being wrong every single time, you unlocked your phone while waiting for the bus and saw:
jess: okay
jess: i know where this is coming from
your stomach immediately tightened.
jess: and i know you're mad
jess: and honestly fair enough
you stared. jess almost never admitted fault immediately, and that alone made you suspicious.
jess: but i think we're both being stubborn now
jess: and i think if we actually talked we'd fix it in like ten minutes
jess: so
jess: surprise
jess: i'm back next week
jess: and before you ignore this too
jess: yes i'm serious
jess: yes i'm coming to campus
jess: yes i'm finding you
jess: and no you're not allowed to disappear
another message appeared.
jess: we're fixing this
jess: even if you hate me right now
you locked your phone just to unlock it again. read the messages a second time, then a third. you still didn't answer, but you also didn't delete them, which felt like its own kind of weakness. because the truth was that a very small, very pathetic part of you had immediately felt relieved, and you hated that. you hated that after everything, after months of being forgotten whenever she found something better to do, after every unanswered message and every time you had watched her life continue without you, some stupid part of your brain still reacted to her name like a starving dog being handed scraps. you hated it, and you hated yourself for it. somehow that made the exhaustion sitting in your chest feel even heavier.
she found you four days later, which you should have expected. you were leaving a lecture hall when someone suddenly wrapped both arms around you from behind. you nearly had a heart attack. "oh my god."
"there she is." you immediately knew it was her. same perfume, same voice, same face no one, not even you, could ever say no to. same irritating ability to behave like she had never been gone at all.
there she was, smiling like nothing had happened, like months had not passed. like you hadn't spent entire semesters watching your messages sit unanswered. for one awful second your chest actually hurt, because you had missed her and that was the worst part. "hi." she said softly.
you stared. "hi."
her smile faltered slightly. "wow."
"what?" "you really are mad."
you looked away immediately, because somehow hearing it out loud made it feel childish. "i'm just busy. can’t stay much time here."
"you always say that." "because i am."
jess rolled her eyes. "see, this is exactly what i'm talking about."
you frowned. "what are you talking about?"
"this." she gestured vaguely. "whatever this is."
you laughed once, a short humorless sound. "you disappeared for months."
"i didn't disappear." "okay." "i didn't!" "mmh."
"stop doing that." "doing what?!" "that!"
you stared at her. "jess, you literally stopped answering me."
"i was in another country."
"phones exist internationally and for a reason, you know?" that finally made her go quiet. and for a second you thought maybe she actually understood. maybe she got it.
"i thought you knew it wasn't personal." and there it was, the reason this conversation had always been impossible. because for jess it wasn't personal. for jess, friendships were elastic — they stretched, they shrank, they disappeared and then they came right back. and somehow they always remained exactly the same. but for you they didn't. for you every absence left marks, every ignored message sat in your chest for weeks. every unanswered attempt became evidence.
"that's kind of the problem." jess blinked and you immediately regretted speaking. because now the words were moving, and once they started moving they rarely stopped. "i know it wasn't personal for you." your voice sounded calmer than you felt. "i know you weren't sitting there trying to hurt me."
"then-"
"but i was still there." silence. "i was still your friend while you weren't answering."
jess's expression changed slightly. "y/n-"
"and every single time something went wrong, you came back." your throat tightened. "every time."
"that's not fair." "it is fair." "no."
"yes." you looked away, because suddenly you couldn't look at her anymore. "you only miss me when something happens." the words landed harder than you expected. and for the first time since she arrived, jess looked genuinely hurt. and for some reason that didn't make you feel better, it just made you tired.
"that's not true." "okay." "stop saying okay like you've already decided i'm guilty!"
you laughed again, smaller this time. "haven't i?"
jess looked down, then back up. and for the first time all afternoon she seemed unsure. "i missed you." your chest twisted immediately, because she sounded sincere, and that somehow made everything worse. "i did." you didn't answer. "i know i'm bad at this, but i did miss you." the problem was that you believed her, and the problem was that believing her changed absolutely nothing. because people could miss you and still leave, people could care and still disappear and people could love you and still make you feel lonely. you had learned that years ago, but jess just happened to be the latest example. eventually she sighed. "you're impossible."
"i've heard that." "are you just… going to stay mad forever?"
you shrugged. "depends." "on what?"
you looked at her and suddenly realized she genuinely thought this was fixable with one conversation. like all she had to do was show up, smile, say sorry and everything would reset. the way it always had before. except this time you were too tired to pretend. "i don't know." and all of a sudden, neither of you had anything else to say. which was probably answer enough.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
your life had somewhat become structured around jake’s, often ending up in the same spaces. same library, same project, same professor. same increasingly concerning amount of time spent staring at statistical outputs. you arrived already tired, even more tired than usual, which was saying something. the scholarship paperwork still wasn't finished, you had missed breakfast again and you had slept four hours. jess had texted you three times before nine in the morning, and you had spent most of the walk to campus pretending not to see the notifications sitting on your lockscreen. by the time you dropped into the chair across from jake, you felt like your body was running entirely on momentum. he looked up once and paused, then looked back at his laptop. "you look awful."
you dropped your bag onto the table. "good morning to you too." "i'm serious."
"thank you." you said in a sarcastic tone, not being able to deal with his shit at that point. still, there was a silence, and the comfortable kind. or whatever the closest version of comfortable was between the two of you. until eventually, after some time typing, you noticed he hadn't moved for almost a minute. which was unusual, because jake was always doing something. you looked up and he was staring at the screen. not reading it, just staring. "what?"
his eyes shifted. "nothing." “mmh.” you immediately went back to your laptop.
he frowned. "that's it?" "what?" "you're not going to ask?"
you looked up. "you literally said nothing."
"yeah." "so?" "usually people ask again."
you stared. "usually people should answer properly the first time."
that got the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. then he sighed, longer this time. and he suddenly looked older, not physically, just tired. the kind of tired you only noticed when someone stopped performing for a second. "my independent project is a mess."
you blinked, because that was not what you expected. "the lab one?"
he nodded. "i've been working on it for almost a year."
you knew the project because everyone did, you were sure. it was one of those ambitious research proposals professors liked bringing up when they wanted to motivate students. jake's project, jake's future publication, jake's possible master's application. jake's future everything. "so… what happened?"
he leaned back as he rubbed a hand over his face. "nothing happened." which sounded suspiciously similar to disaster.
"jake."
he laughed once, without humor. "i spent eleven months collecting data. and now i'm not sure the question was even worth asking." you froze, because that wasn't frustration, that was something close to fear. the kind that sat underneath months of work and suddenly asked whether any of it mattered. he looked away. "i keep trying to force something interesting out of it." another pause. "and every time i look at it i hate it more."
you watched him carefully, because this wasn't the version of jake most people saw. the version everybody else saw walked around campus looking annoyingly competent, like things simply worked for him. like success arrived naturally and confidence was his default setting. but this version looked frustrated and uncertain, which somehow felt more vulnerable than if he had outright admitted he was struggling. "i’m just going to be honest."
he snorted. "that sounds dangerous."
"might be. but i think… your problem could be that you keep trying to make it impressive." he looked up, immediately. but you continued before he could interrupt. "every time you talk about a project, you talk about what it could become."
his eyebrows pulled together. “because that's the point."
you sat forward slightly. "you're doing the same thing you did with the results section."
he groaned immediately. "don't bring that up." "i'm bringing it up, jake." "of course you are."
"because you're doing it again." he leaned back, watching you as you continued. "you keep jumping ahead. you're trying to write the conclusion before you've looked at what's actually there."
his eyes narrowed slightly. not defensive, just thinking, which was different. "maybe the data isn't exciting."
you shrugged. "most data isn't."
"great." "but maybe it's useful, and maybe that's enough."
silence stretched, long. he tapped his fingers against the table. "you’re really annoying and that's a really annoying answer."
your mouth twitched slightly. "i know. feelings are mutual."
"and i also hate that you're probably right."
"i also know." you finally smiled, not being able to control your facial expressions anymore.
"stop enjoying this."
you looked back down at your laptop. "i'm not." but you absolutely were.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
after a few days, you met up again. it was one of those days where everything felt wrong before it even started. jess had called, which already felt aggressive, and somehow the conversation had made everything worse. because she sounded normal, excited, exactly like somebody who had not disappeared from your life for months at a time. and by the time you arrived at the library, you could feel the anger sitting underneath your skin. jake noticed immediately, which was becoming irritating. "okay."
you didn't look up. "what?" "you look like you want to commit murder today."
"yeah, and you’re about to be my next victim.” jake just looked at you in shock, making you think he might have believed it. “i looked like that last week too, anyway." you said while avoiding eye contact.
"this is definitely different." you ignored him, but he ignored your attempt to ignore him. "who is it?"
you sighed. "what? nobody." "that's a lie and we both know it."
"why ask if you've already decided then?" you said in a passive aggressive tone, more aggressive than passive.
he shrugged. "fair." after a minute of silence, you heard his voice again. "is it a guy?"
you immediately stared in shock. "what?" "i'm asking." "why?"
"because people usually look like this because of a guy. and i would know, because i am a guy… a guy a lot of girls get mad at, actually."
you rolled you eyes as you heard him admit to that so easily. "your reasoning is stupid. and your reasoning should maybe make you a little more self aware for the sake of others too." "mmh, okay."
you looked back down, annoyed. then heard yourself speak, feeling the need to clarify it. "it's not a guy, for the record." "good."
you frowned, confused at his comment. "why?" "because i wouldn’t have been helpful. i’m on the receiving end when it comes to that stuff, so i don’t understand those situations.”
you stared. "and you understand this one?" "try me."
you rubbed your eyes, already regretting speaking. "it's an old friend. jess."
his expression shifted slightly. recognition. "jess?"
"yeah." you hesitated. "you might know her."
"how exactly?" "well, apart from the fact that you talk to basically everybody on campus including the trees, she used to… visit one of your friends?"
he immediately looked confused, raising one eyebrow. “visit?”
“as in, intimately.” you awkwardly said, making it all even more awkward, which was one of your not-so-hidden talents.
"that doesn't narrow it down at all."
despite yourself, you laughed. "fair."
after a second, you heard him speak again. "oh."
"you know her." "i remember we talked a few times, yeah. she used to hook up with jay, i think. it’s hard to keep up."
you blushed at his words like a stupid girl, as if you weren’t a full grown twenty year old woman. you felt the need to move on with the conversation, which somehow meant oversharing a little. "she just disappears. for months." you stared at the table. "sometimes longer. then comes back." your throat tightened. "and every single time she acts like nothing happened." you laughed, short and sharp. "like i'm supposed to be waiting exactly where she left me." jake didn't interrupt, so you kept talking, which was probably a big mistake. "she goes traveling, does exchange. somehow the exchange ends and she still doesn’t come back? she meets new people and simply forgets i exist." your voice sounded flatter now. "then something goes wrong and suddenly she remembers my phone number." silence. you looked down. "and the worst part is i always answer." there it was, the embarrassing part, the part that actually hurt. because the problem wasn't only jess, it was you. always accepting less than what you needed because some version of friendship felt better than none.
jake was quiet for a moment. but when he finally spoke, you immediately wished he hadn’t. "i kind of understand her."
you looked up, instantly regretting opening your mouth. why had you even told him about that? why would you ever talk about something so personal with jake? you genuinely wondered what had gotten into you, what stupid spell you were under to suddenly speak about something so important to you with this person. "forget it."
he didn't seem bothered by your reaction, which somehow made it worse. "listen. i’m just saying i understand why she might disappear."
you laughed, actually laughed in disbelief. "seriously? that's your response."
he frowned. "what?"
"i tell you all that and your first instinct is to defend her." "i'm not defending her." "you literally are." "no?" "jake."
he leaned back, annoyingly calm. "i'm saying i understand it."
"those are not different things." "they are."
"not right now they're not." you raised your voice a little, not being able to keep up with his nonchalance.
"people get overwhelmed." his voice remained steady. "people avoid things."
"for more than a year?" "sometimes." "well, that's ridiculous." "it just happens, y/n."
you laughed again, angrier this time. "easy for you to say."
he frowned. "why are you so sure about that?"
because you have people. because people stay and because nobody forgets you. because you don't spend months wondering whether someone cared about you in the first place. you thought all of that but said none of it. "because you're not the one waiting." that landed and you saw it.
jake's expression shifted slightly. "fair."
you quickly looked away, because suddenly your eyes were burning. because suddenly you remembered why you didn’t like talking to jake. "i'm just tired of being understanding." the words slipped out before you could stop them.
he just sat there for a second, looking at you with that frustratingly neutral expression he always wore whenever he was actually thinking about something. "i know."
you almost laughed. not because it was funny, because it was irritating. "i don’t think you do." you wished you hadn't said that, because now the conversation was no longer about jess. it was about you. silence stretched between you, making you look down at the table.
jake looked at you and said, carefully this time, "i'm just saying i've done that before. not answered people." your eyes lifted. he wasn't looking at you anymore, he was looking somewhere over your shoulder, somewhere vague. like he was talking to the room instead of directly to you. "you get busy." he shrugged slightly. "or stressed. or something happens and you keep thinking you'll answer tomorrow." you didn't say anything as he continued. "then a week passes, then two." another pause. "then it starts feeling weird. and then the longer you leave it, the more embarrassing it gets." something uncomfortable twisted in your chest, because he didn't sound defensive, he sounded familiar. like he wasn't really talking about jess anymore, like he was talking about himself. "and eventually," he said, quieter now, "you know you've waited too long." your throat tightened unexpectedly, because there was something strange about hearing that from him. jake, who always seemed so put together, so socially effortless. so capable of moving through every room without friction. you had never really considered that he might be the kind of person who avoided things. or people, or conversations. he leaned back slightly. "but i'm not saying it doesn't hurt."
you immediately looked away, because that wasn't what you wanted, it wasn't what you needed. you didn't need understanding, you needed someone to tell you that you were right. that jess was selfish, that disappearing for months was selfish. that coming back whenever she felt lonely was selfish and that you had every right to be angry. instead he was sitting there calmly constructing reasons that almost sounded like excuses. "okay." your voice came out flat. "so what?"
he frowned slightly. "what do you mean?"
"i mean so what." you looked at him again. "so she was embarrassed." he immediately knew where this was going and you could tell, but that didn't stop you. "so she got busy. so now i have to be there every time just in case she felt that way, because of course she didn’t give any solid explanation either. great." you laughed once, sharp.
"that's not what i'm saying." "it kind of is." "no, y/n."
"then what are you saying, jake." you called his name back as if trying to prove a point, unconsciously arguing at this point.
he rubbed his jaw, already looking mildly annoyed. which somehow made you even more annoyed. "i'm just saying life gets messy." you stared at him and he stared back, completely calm, completely composed. and suddenly you wanted to shake him, just a little. just enough to make him react properly.
"you don't get it." "maybe not." "no, you definitely don't."
he frowned. "then explain it. explain whatever you want me to get."
and there it was. you could tell exhaustion had been eating holes through your self-control for weeks now as you spoke without a filter. "because it's always me." you looked down, immediately regretting it, immediately wanting to take it back. but now it was already out. "i'm always the person who understands and the person who's supposed to wait until everybody figures their shit out." your chest felt tight, too tight. "and somehow nobody ever seems worried about whether i have things going on too." the words sounded pathetic the second they left your mouth. you hated yourself for saying them, because this was jake. jake wasn’t even your friend, but there you were trauma dumping on him for some strange reason.
he was quiet for a moment, long enough that you wished he would just let it go. "have you told her that?"
you blinked. "what?" "any of that."
you stared. "that's your takeaway?"
"it's a question." "obviously not." "then how would she know?"
you actually laughed in disbelief. "jake, seriously?" "yeah."
your irritation flared immediately. "because she should know."
he sighed. "people don't magically know things." "she should."
"why?" you stared at him, because the answer felt obvious. because if somebody mattered to you then you noticed, and if somebody mattered to you then you checked. you would remember they existed even when your life got busy. but suddenly explaining that felt impossible because it sounded childish and needy, it sounded exactly like the thing you spent years trying not to be. you looked away but, unfortunately, jake kept talking. "look." his voice softened slightly, which somehow made it worse. "i'm not saying she's right. i'm saying people aren't always good at being what other people need. and honestly," he hesitated for a moment, just enough for you to notice. "i don't know. if she's basically the only friend you've got." your stomach dropped, violently. he didn't mean it cruelly and that was the problem. he said it like an observation, like a fact, something practical and logical. "maybe expecting perfection from her isn't realistic."
that was the exact moment everything inside you snapped, quietly. somehow he had managed to take the ugliest fear you carried around and say it out loud like it was reasonable. if she's basically the only friend you've got. you stared at him, and suddenly all you could hear was that sentence. you wondered if he realized what he had just said, if he realized how true it was. your chair scraped against the floor, which made jake immediately looked up. "you’re right." your voice sounded strange, even to yourself. you started shoving your laptop into your bag too fast, too aggressively.
"y/n." "no, you're right."
his eyebrows pulled together. "that's not-"
"no." you stood up as the library suddenly felt too bright, too loud and too exposed. "i should probably lower my standards."
"i didn't say that." "you kind of did." "that's not what i meant." "it's fine." "y/n."
you slung your bag over your shoulder, avoiding his eyes. because you knew if you looked at him right now something humiliating would happen — either you'd cry or you'd say something cruel, and you didn't want either.
"i've got work." "we're literally working right now." "not this."
"that's not what i meant." he said quieter this time, more serious.
you nodded once, short and mechanical. "just leave it, okay? i don’t give a fuck at this point." you turned around and left before he could say anything else. before he could explain or clarify, before he could make it reasonable. because the worst part was that maybe it was reasonable and maybe that was why it hurt so much. because somewhere underneath all the anger and embarrassment and exhaustion, there was a small ugly part of you that had heard his words and immediately thought: he's right. and you hated that part enough that you spent the entire walk home trying not to listen to it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you didn’t want to see jess, and you wanted to see jake even less. the conversation with him had left you feeling like a whiny, annoying person, which somehow felt like it was both of their perception when it came to you. you still didn’t understand why you had let him know all that personal stuff, why you hadn’t second guessed saying it like you did with everything else. why had you all of a sudden let something real slip out so carelessly when you had spent most of your life making sure nothing slipped out at all? although once you reflected on it, you realized jake was the closest thing to a friend you had at that moment. you kept telling yourself he wasn’t one because you knew he didn’t consider you as such, but that didn’t mean it was as easy for your brain to interpret it all in the same nonchalant way as his did. and maybe that was the reason why you had been so careless, because at some point of spending countless hours with jake as a project partner, you had begun to spend time with him as a person too, even if it was a one sided experience. you had to stop that, though. he had clearly shown you he thought it was stupid to even bring up the thing with jess as a problem. he wasn’t your friend in reality, and although he had told you about some of his worries as well, you obviously didn’t have that kind of connection.
the project document sat untouched for longer than it should have. you told yourself you would get back to it tomorrow, but then tomorrow became the next day, and then the next. same thing happened with texts that went unanswered, cancelled meetings and skipped classes. eventually you emailed your professors about a “debilitating cold” that technically existed but probably wasn't severe enough to justify missing class or being absent from life in general. you had never missed class, not voluntarily, not unless you physically couldn't move. but exhaustion had started settling somewhere deeper than tiredness. it wasn't sleep, because sleep didn't fix it. sleep just delayed it until the morning. the strange thing was that once you stopped going, you discovered how easy it would be to keep stopping, which terrified you. because rankings, scholarships, deadlines, projects and all the things that normally sat in your chest screaming for attention suddenly felt distant, muted. like somebody had wrapped your life in several layers of fabric. and you knew enough about yourself to understand how dangerous that feeling could become if you let it stay.
so on wednesday morning you got out of bed, because whatever else you were, you were not a quitter. you got dressed, packed your bag and ignored the fact that everything felt heavier than usual. you promised yourself you wouldn’t allow yourself to have those kind of thoughts anymore because they would only bring you down. emotional repression was your favorite kind of unhealthy coping mechanism, you thought. once you were back on campus, all you could think about was how you couldn’t handle seeing neither of those two people you couldn’t get out of your head at that moment. which was genuinely stupid, because one of them was a former friend who had apparently decided to reappear in your life after treating it like a waiting room, and the other was your project partner to put it simply. those were the facts — simple, reasonable, adult facts. the fact that both situations somehow occupied an unreasonable amount of your brain space lately was a separate issue entirely. you shook in fear just by imagining it, already feeling awkward because of conversations that had not happened yet, expressions you had not seen yet, and possibilities your brain had already managed to rehearse a dozen different ways.
so when you casually looked up on your way to class just to see both of those two people, your entire body froze. you stood still like a rodent in fear, trying to process the scene you were watching. jake. jess. together. you were standing far enough away that neither of them saw you. thank god, because you suddenly felt like an intruder. jess was leaning against one of the walls near the notice boards, talking about something with her hands moving the way they always did when she got animated. her hair was down and she looked effortless in that way she always did. jake was standing across from her. he was smiling, genuinely. that small version of it that showed up when he was actually entertained by something. you hated that you recognized the difference now. your stomach tightened, probably because you were annoyed. that was the explanation, the obvious explanation.
you kept walking a little slower without meaning to. jess said something and jake looked down for a second before looking back up. she touched his arm, briefly, the way extroverted people touched everybody. which meant absolutely nothing. except your brain immediately decided to remember every single time jake had ever touched you, which took approximately half a second because the answer was basically never. you looked away, then looked back. and you knew you were acting ridiculous. you should just have gone to class, but instead you found yourself lingering beside a column further down the corridor. not hiding, just... standing there for a second. a completely normal amount of time. jess laughed as jake said something that made her shove his shoulder lightly. and there it was, that impossible-to-define thing. you couldn't hear a word they were saying, but somehow the conversation felt familiar anyway. easy, comfortable. like they already knew where the other person's jokes were going before they arrived there. you noticed jess occupied space easily, exactly like you never had. jess laughed loudly, but you usually laughed like you were apologizing for it. jess flirted with people the way other people breathed. and even from across the hallway you could see the familiar rhythm of it. the slight lean forward, the eye contact held a second too long, the teasing smile, the confidence. she had always been good at that.
you weren't even friends with one of them anymore, and the other had never been your friend to begin with. so why did it feel like watching something you weren't supposed to be seeing? why did it feel like standing outside a room with the door cracked open? why did it feel like everybody else had somehow received instructions for a social world that you were still trying to decipher years later? jess laughed again. jake looked down and shook his head. and there it was, that tiny almost-smile, the one you had spent months accidentally memorizing. your stomach dropped, hard. you wished you had the strength in you to go tell him how much you hated him, but you knew they would just look at you like you were crazy. because maybe you were a little, but you believed you had your reasons. it felt like he was doing it on purpose — you had explicitly told him that she had hurt you, he had dismissed it and now he was luring her in. he couldn’t be doing it on purpose, right? he couldn’t dislike you that much. he didn’t even seem to care, for god’s sake. so why would he go out of his way to do something so mean to you? you were taking it personal when deep down you knew it had nothing to do with you, which probably was what hurt the most. you weren’t in neither of their minds and you had to accept it.
you hated how bitter every thought you had sounded. you hated it enough that you immediately started walking again, faster this time, before they could notice you. before your brain could turn the whole thing into something even uglier. because whatever this feeling was, you didn't want to examine it. you had enough problems already, you really didn't need another one. especially not one you couldn't even name.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
jess: can we just hang out like old times? pls girl lets fix thisss
you stared at the message, your desperation for friendship coming through. just two weeks ago, you were sure you couldn’t forgive her. you didn’t think acting as if nothing happened was too respectful to yourself. but you wanted a girl friend, you needed someone who would keep you distracted for a little while. someone you could share a tiny part of your 20s with, even. loneliness was getting the best of you and although it felt pitiful, you couldn’t help but miss human connection. and maybe, just maybe, jake’s words had also had an effect on your thoughts about the situation too. and maybe, it was also about seeing them talk in such a friendly manner and not being able to get what kind of interaction it was from where you were standing. maybe it was about getting mad at him because of it, because it felt like you accidentally shared way too much with him and he didn’t take it as a serious matter. as something that had hurt you deeply, as something you almost considered betrayal. he indirectly told you so, and then turned around to use his charm on her just like he did with every other girl, choosing to ignore your vulnerability. maybe it was a way of showing him that you also didn’t give a fuck. that you had realized you were being dramatic, just as he implied. was it better to spitefully prove him right by talking to jess or to feel stupid as a salty girl who cannot just forgive and forget? you thought that you at least would gain a friend back with the first option. you were being extremely irrational. the thought of jake even noticing who you talked to or not was simply dumb in the first place.
you: okay. when and where?
done decision. this could either go extremely wrong or make you a little less depressed for an evening.
jess: ik youre not going to like this, but there is this party…
jess: it will be really fun and you can meet new ppl !! ill help you out plssssss
you: jess you know im too awkward for ts
jess: take it as a challenge bby
jess: well leave as soon as youre uncomfortable promised
jess: pick you up at 10 🥳
at least she had a car that she could pick you up with. it was hard to take anything else as positive out of this stupid situation you had chosen to get yourself into. you were extremely anxious to talk to her. still remembering how to act like a regular person, still knowing how to actually let your personality out. the fact that the only social interactions you had had for the last few months had been about your shared project with jake didn’t help at all. you knew the best you could do was not to overthink it. do not overthink it, you repeated to yourself. do. not. over —
“girl, snap out of it please. you need to get a little hyper, we’re going to a party, remember?” “sadly.”
“you’ve changed so much. i miss brighter you, you know?” your heart ached a little when you heard jess’s words being said in such an endearing tone. you missed her too.
“swear i won’t ruin it. don’t worry, you’ll have fun.” you smiled at her while she drove her mini car. it looked so chic. she looked so chic. the wind that came out of the rolled-down window somehow blew her hair perfectly without it sticking to her lipgloss, and you felt stupid for noticing those details. you always admired her, always prayed you could exude even a quarter of her elegance.
“it’s not only about me having fun. it’s about us having fun. you and me, both. understood?” she said as she pulled her car over, parking in a seemingly unknown street to you. but as you walked closer to the location, jess leading the way, it started to get a little more familiar.
“jess?” “mmh?” “is this a house party?”
“well… maybe. i thought if i told you before you wouldn’t even think about coming.”
“you know i hate this vibe. this is stupid, jess. you’re going to be socializing and i’m just going to be weirdly standing in a corner!”
“hey! i’m not going to leave you alone, okay?” “no. i don’t want you to babysit me. i told you, i want you to have a great time.”
“i’ll have a great time as long as you stop anticipating. come on, we’re already here anyway.” you knew at some point during the night she would leave you. you knew you wouldn’t go home “as soon as you get uncomfortable”. you wouldn’t even ask to leave because she deserved to have a great time without you being in her ass about it. gosh, you wished you could be normal about everything for just one night.
as soon as you entered the house, you knew who was throwing the party. you didn’t ask before, afraid of the answer jess would give you. it was the same apartment complex you once visited to bang on a boy’s door about some deleted google doc. it was jay’s home. jake’s friend. jess entered first, her beaming smile making her look even more magical. you wished you were a ghost in that moment as you genuinely couldn’t take being looked at. but there you were, too deep in the lion's den to get out now. “jay!” jess ran up to the familiar face you always saw jake with. you walked a little faster, trying to keep up with jess’ excited run. you awkwardly stood next to her, waiting for the perfect moment to include yourself in their conversation. you swore no matter what the interaction was, there was never a right time for your stupid brain.
“aaaand this is y/n! we’ve been friends for almost… how many years now?”
“three and half.” you finally added something to the conversation, trying to politely smile to jay without showing too much of your nerves.
“oh my god, it’s been so fucking long, girl. anyway, she’s such a sweet girl, right babe?” jess looked at you with her deer eyes and a light smile, almost pleading you to speak with just a look.
“never as sweet as her. i hope you’ve had a great chance to get to know her properly, jay. it’s extremely worth it.” jay smiled genuinely, nodding yes with his head.
“oh babe! i missed my girl so much!”
“girls are too fucking sweet to each other, god. i feel pre-diabetic already.”
“oh, shut up! it’s not our fault you guys don’t have a single ounce of emotional intelligence!” jess punched jay’s arm in a friendly way, making him laugh while dramatically exclaiming how painful it felt.
“anyway, make yourself at home. there is plenty of alcohol, so get drunk and have fun. those are the house rules.” jay winked while he left to walk to a bigger group of people, which seemed like his friend group. his friend group. jake.
“jake!” your biggest fear came true. having to awkwardly stand at a house party while your friend talked to another person. and that person was the guy you had a project to finish with. and the guy you had been avoiding for about three weeks for various reasons. the guy who looked extremely confident while walking towards your friend, probably knowing he already had her wrapped around his finger. the guy who didn’t even spare you a glance, as if you hadn’t shared information that you considered very personal with him. as if he hadn’t opened up too. for a moment, your brain had even tricked you into thinking he was your friend. loneliness makes you a little too delusional, you thought.
jess hugged him tightly, almost doubtful of letting him go. you hadn’t addressed it since you were pretty sure she didn’t even know you were aware of them knowing each other, or even jake and you knowing each other. but you had your suspicions about the sexual tension you could feel between them. you kind of knew both jake and jess, and you were aware they both didn’t do serious. and although you weren’t judging, it kind of hurt knowing that your old friend no longer trusted you enough to update you about her intimate life like she used to. it wasn’t about the intimate life part, it was more about the fact that you two didn’t talk anymore, didn’t know about each other’s general life anymore. you weren’t close enough for her to tell you and that interaction had made you more conscious of it.
you glanced at jake for a moment, trying not to make it too obvious. was this how it was going to be? pretending not to know each other because you were in a social setting instead of that damn library? he looked so alive while talking to jess, you didn’t think you had ever seen him interact with you that way. it wasn’t a new feeling, noticing how people’s behavior changed when they were actually comfortable talking to others. although you wanted to lie to yourself and act like it didn’t matter, your emotions were hard to miss.
“and this is y/n! my old time beautiful friend. y/n, this is jake! he’s my friend too, i met him around your dorm actually!” jess could be so innocent at times, it made you feel maternal. you awkwardly smiled, not being able to bring yourself to say something. jake finally addressed you with his eyes, confirming your earlier wish of becoming a ghost hadn’t come true. sadly.
“yeah. we actually know each other, we’re partners for a shit project our teacher assigned us because of our grades.” ouch, shit project. you actually had had your fun while doing all the research and creating your own little experiment. it turned out it wasn’t the same for everyone involved.
“what?! you hadn’t told me, y/n! this is so cool! you must have become friends during this, right? you two are too nice to not be friends. and so fucking smart, god!” you knew she had the best intentions, you really knew. but that didn’t stop you from wanting to choke her with your bare hands in that exact moment.
“not really. your friend here has been a little… distant. and we didn’t even have much time to talk, anyway.” you couldn’t stop yourself from directly looking at him. did he really have to say that? you already were well aware of the fact that you two weren’t friends, but he didn’t have to be so mean about it. you needed a drink. or a whole bottle.
“y/n! jake is soooooo sweet. you need to start opening up more! he’d be a great friend when i’m not around.” your eyes were already burning, as it all felt like a humiliation ritual. everything that could go wrong in your head went even worse in reality. you just laughed it off, focusing on not looking like you were about to have a meltdown.
“jess, i need a drink.” “sure, babes! jake, show us the drinks.”
jake opened the fridge, not looking at you still. he had some great talent to avoid eye contact, you had to give him that. “i’ll prepare you whatever you desire.” jake said as he dramatically reverenced, making jess giggle cutely. you were pissed and you genuinely couldn’t pinpoint what was actually making you feel that way. you just felt it, which meant nothing he said or did was fucking funny no matter how hard you tried. you hadn’t been this irrational since you were a teen, and it was all jake sim’s fault.
“i’ll take a rum and coke, sir. and you, y/n?” “a rum and coke is fine too.”
jake giggled at jess addressing him as sir, and you could tell he was already a little tipsy. his cheeks were flushed, his lips were even plumper than usual and his movements weren’t as controlled. as they casually spoke, you couldn’t help but look around anxiously, already zoning out. you quickly took the drink into your hands as soon as jake finished making it. even your basic manners were being tempered by your irritation, since you weren’t even able to bring yourself to thank him. you were sure neither of them would notice your lack of appreciation for the below average drink he had just made you, so you didn’t need to feel guilty about it.
you basically chugged your drink, finishing it whole in one swallow. you needed some strength to somehow flee from the extremely awkward situation you were in. a good escape would be using the opportunity to socialize with new people, you thought. but that would definitely require at least one more drink. the bathroom was the right option until then.
“i’m going to the bathroom, jess.” “okay, pretty. we’ll be here.” jess answered casually.
“upstairs. first door to the left.” “thanks.” first and probably last interaction of the night with jake. how friendly the two of you were.
as you fled from the scene, you finally let your body relax a little. you were so tense your muscles were actually hurting, and it all felt like a fever dream. as you were walking upstairs, you suddenly felt a body crushing into yours, while a wet stain formed in your shirt.
“oh, fuck! i am so sorry!” you looked up, seeing one of the prettiest boys you had ever met holding a now half emptied cup. he looked familiar, but you weren’t too good at recognizing faces since you didn’t look around that much.
“don’t worry. i have an excuse to leave now.” you said calmly, not wanting him to feel guilty about a drunk accident. your drink was already kicking in as you were a bit of a lightweight for alcohol, so you didn’t feel like reacting at all. he giggled lightly, still murmuring sorry repeatedly.
“i think i know you.” “you also look familiar.”
“i’m sunoo. does that ring a bell?” of course it did. even if someone knew nobody like you did, you would still know sunoo. he was always mentioned somehow, and you now recalled seeing him being part of jake’s friend group. he reminded you a little to jess, as he was one of those people that could light up a room as soon as they entered it.
“mmh, it does. i think we have statistics ii together.” “oh, right! give me your contact and i’ll pay for the laundry service, i swear!” “there’s really no need. the top isn’t good quality anyway.”
“still! we’re in the same class, we should have each other’s contact. let’s be friends, yeah? i should know your name first, though.” you admired nice extroverts, people who could make everyone comfortable even if it was somebody as awkward as you.
“y/n. and i would really like to be your friend. i’ve heard nice things about you.” you smiled politely, trying to reciprocate his kindness back as he passed you his phone with his contact list opened. you added yourself as a contact, saving it as “y/n stats ii”.
“it was so nice to meet you, y/n. and i will pay for that dry cleaning, i don’t care what you have to say about it.” you laughed at his half-threat, saying bye to sunoo as you entered the bathroom. you took a deep breath as you stared at the mirror, seeing how much of a mess you looked like in your reflection. your eyes were bloodshot, your cheeks were flushed and your hair looked a bit frizzy, and now you had a big stain right in the middle of your white shirt. you tried to clean it up with some water, which made it a little less noticeable, but your top was almost drenched now. you needed to leave. you breathed slowly, building up the courage to tell jess you wanted to go and to convince her of not coming with you. she was having a good time, a marvelous time even, and you didn’t want to be the one ruining that. although you felt a little selfish for wanting to leave so early, you just couldn’t push your feelings away. you grabbed the doorknob, taking one more deep breath as you twisted it open.
someone was waiting, though. jake was waiting. “oh, sorry i took so long. all yours.” you walked around him with your head down, not making it too far before you heard his voice.
“we need to talk.” you fully stopped in your tracks, praying you were just hearing voices.
“really? about?” you turned around with a confused expression, because you genuinely didn’t know what he had to say to you after he had been so clearly ignoring you for the whole night. he walked a few steps forward, opening a door that you guessed led to a bedroom. you felt your heart beating in your throat as he just stared at you while waiting at the door, threatening you to go in with a single look. it seemed like you didn’t have many more options, so you walked through the door after him, entering what you thought was jay’s bedroom. he had two guitars hanging on the walls, a bunch of band posters and some workout equipment on the floor. the place smelled like expensive cologne and just boy scent in general. you were so out of place, feeling like you were entering such a private space where you didn’t have the right to be. “i really shouldn’t be here.”
“yeah, you shouldn’t. so why are you here?” your stomach dropped. this was such a different jake from the person you saw talking to jess just twenty minutes ago.
“look… jess didn’t tell me it was jay’s party. she didn’t even tell me it was a house party, okay? if i had just known that, i wouldn’t even have accepted the plan just in case. i know i’m not invited, but you already know her, right?” jake stared at you in silence. did your presence really upset him so much? you hadn’t even spoken to him, but you guessed they only wanted certain people to come to their parties and that may have been his problem. the awkward silence forced you to keep talking, feeling like you had to explain yourself because of his judging look. “the last thing i want is to be an inconvenience, okay? i don’t want anyone to be upset. i was going to leave right now, but if i tell her that i’m going now she will try to come with me because she’s not drunk enough to ditch me yet. so, i’ll go and you’ll tell her my stomach felt upset when she asks about me, okay?” you had a hopeful look in your eyes, wanting the situation to be over as soon as possible. instead, jake kept staring, an unreadable expression on his face. you were becoming even angrier by the minute. he was the one who dragged you to that damn bedroom and made you explain yourself in the most embarrassing way possible just to say nothing back. “so what else do you want me to say?”
“so you’re friends with her now?”
“really? and what about you? can i ask about what you two are?” you would regret saying that later. you shouldn’t have had that drink, as it made your brain-mouth connection malfunction a little, but it was too late already.
“i wasn’t the one who said you didn’t know if you could forgive her. or the one who got upset for some stupid fucking reason.”
“i’m not upset!”
“then why have you been avoiding me for weeks now, huh? do you think i enjoy wasting my time on this project, y/n? i want to forget it just as much as you do, but we have a compromise with professor jones and i can’t let him down!”
“i have been doing my parts, though! it’s not like i’m not working on it.”
“you know it’s not the same thing! it’s a fucking mess right now because we haven’t sat down to actually do it together in so long. look… i don’t care about whatever shit you have going on with jess, i just want this to be over.” you had been in your own head for so long now that you had completely forgotten about what this project could mean to you. about how important it was for jake to have your professor’s trust and stay top of the class. about how it wasn’t fair for him to go to meetings with mr. jones by himself and take it upon himself to explain your work all alone when you were supposed to be a pair. all of a sudden, you were realizing how horrible you were being as a working partner and the consequences it could have for jake. although all that didn’t erase how unmotivated you felt. how it had been so extremely hard to get out of bed every morning, how you were giving up on that too. still, you would make an effort for him.
“you’re right. i am now seeing it’s not fair to you, and i am sorry. i’m available this whole week though, so we can meet whenever you can and as much as you want. we’ll finish it soon, promised.” you successfully held your tears in as you smiled politely, knowing you had to leave right in that moment if you didn’t want to have a meltdown in front of him. “i’ll text you tomorrow so we can schedule, okay?”
“why did you get so mad at me just to forgive her and act like nothing happened?” “jake, i-i need to go.”
“no! i deserve an explanation. why are you not even coming to class? rankings are coming out soon, you know?”
“i know.” “is this all about jess? about the conversation we had?”
you knew that was just the tip of the iceberg. you were sinking for the first time in years and the whole jess thing and seeing them together was the last drop you needed to let yourself go. “things happen, jake. it’s not only that, but it doesn’t matter. what matters now is that we’re finishing that project together, i promise.”
“leave the fucking project now! are you not taking uni seriously anymore?”
“stop.” “have you even thought about your scholarship?”
“stop it!” tears came out uncontrollably, not being able to hold it together anymore. jake’s expression changed to a surprised one for a few seconds, quickly turning it back to his cold demeanor. “you know nothing, so stop it.”
“you won’t let me know anything.” “the moment i fucking told you something about someone, you went right to that someone and charmed her like a fucking…” you cut yourself off before the words slipped out of your tongue, although the damage was already way more than done.
“so it is about that.” “no! for fuck’s sake i’m just saying!”
“why are you so mad if you two are back to being friends? did you really forgive her?” you looked at him, an incredulous expression in your face. you wondered why he was so mean to you but so kind to everyone else. you knew you had fucked up, but you were actually trying to clean up your mess.
“i have nothing else to say to you, jake.”
“did she tell you she came to my apartment?” so they were that close and she hadn’t told you a single thing. she had the right to, but it confirmed you two weren’t friends like you used to be. knowing that made your heart sting a little, not being able to stop the tears anymore.
“guess you two aren’t such close friends after all.”
“you just told me you don’t care about what jess and i got going on.”
“just giving you updates.” jake shrugged his shoulders as if he had said nothing too important. you tried to compose yourself, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him anymore.
“she’s going to leave anyway. you two are adults so enjoy it while you can. i have nothing to do with this and like i said before, i’ll text you tomorrow to talk about the damn project.” you turned around, not being able to listen to his voice for a second longer.
“for fuck’s sake, y/n! i just want to-“ as jake stopped talking, you heard a loud thud and a groan right behind you, making you quickly turn around. before you could even react, jake was already on the floor, his nose bleeding nonstop.
“what happened, oh my god!”
“t-the dumbbell! fuck…” you looked around, noticing one of the dumbbells you saw earlier scattered on the floor. you rapidly guessed he had tripped and fallen face-first on one of the bed corners. he was holding his nose with both of his hands while whining in pain, making you immediately run up to him, forced to ignore the mess of a conversation you had just had.
“here, let’s get you to the bed.” you offered him your arm for support, trying to forget about the way your heart was thumping in your chest once he held onto you. jake wasn’t heavy, but you still struggled to carry him as he wasn’t making much effort to help. “did you hit your head? tell me you don’t have a concussion, please.” only groans came out of his mouth, so you sat him in the bed and held his face tightly, staining your whole hand with blood in the process. “jake.” he finally looked at you in the eyes, making you feel nauseous. “do you know where you are?”
“party. jay’s room.” “okay, good. does your head hurt?”
“mmh.” “yes or no?” “yeah.”
“okay, lay down. stay here and don’t get up, i’m going to get you some stuff, okay?” you got no answer, but you needed to make sure he was listening to you. “jake, okay?”
“come back.” he finally replied with a trembling voice that made your heartbeat spike even more, given not only the way he spoke, but the content of what he said.
“what?”
“after. don’t leave me here alone.” you were really confused at his sudden need to be with someone, let alone you.
“jake, i’m not going to let you be alone. i’m pretty sure you have a small concussion.”
“but you. you’ll come back.”
“you definitely have a concussion. but yeah, don’t worry.” as your legs were trembling, you ran down the stairs trying to find sunoo. he looked not too intoxicated before, and he would probably know where things were in that stupidly big apartment. he also seemed really sweet, and although your whole body was shaking from anxiety, he was probably the best option of a person to talk to. once you found him, you saw him talking to two girls, which made you even more scared to go up to him. still, you remembered the bloody mess a certain boy was making in his friend’s room, so you gathered all the courage you had inside you to go and talk to sunoo.
“sunoo!” “oh, hey y/n. how is it going so far? i see the stain got a little better.”
“yeah, and i told you not to worry about it! anyway, this is going to sound a bit weird… but do you know where there could be some painkillers and towels?”
“i do know, but first i need to know why you could possibly need all that for? because it sounds a bit suspicious.”
“your dear friend jake hit his head while we were arguing.” what were you supposed to do? lie on the spot? you were pretty dumb to assume he would just not question your request at all, but you weren’t too conscious either at that point.
“did you have anything to do with that injury or…?” sunoo asked while laughing, finding the situation quite entertaining.
“no! i mean, he was just tipsy and tripped. i shouldn’t have added the arguing part, it makes me look guilty now that i think of it.”
“okay, okay. i’ll believe you, i guess. come on, i’ll get you everything.” sunoo hugged the two girls he was having the conversation you interrupted with, following him into the kitchen right after. “didn’t know jake and you talked. even less, argued.”
“we were assigned a project together because of our grades. that’s why.”
“oh, so you are the project partner.” sunoo simply said while looking around the cabinets, leaving you even more confused than you already were with this whole situation.
“what?” “here.” sunoo ignored your inquire as he extended his arm out while giving you a small box of pills, which you quickly took. “towels are in the bathroom, top cabinet, you’ll see them. and please tell jake to stop being so damn inconvenient all the time.” you smiled at his comment, not being able to hold back your reaction to his annoyance.
“i will. it would also really benefit me too, you know.” sunoo laughed as he said bye once again, leaving you to face jake all alone. you walked upstairs, knowing you did not have too much time before he would get dizzy from his nosebleed. as you took the towels from the bathroom, you could hear some light voices coming from the bedroom next to it, which was also the room you had left jake in. you approached the half-closed door once you had everything you thought jake might have needed, hearing the voices more clearly then.
a familiar silhouette was on the floor, right in front of a smiley jake that sat down on the same bed you told him to lay down on ten minutes earlier. jess was assisting him with a small piece of cloth, which looked like more than enough to make him have a better appearance. that was all you needed. your sign to go now that the two people you had to give explanations to were entertained with each other. you left that suffocating place, the walk to your dorm being around 30 minutes long. it was definitely peaceful, but you couldn’t help shedding a few tears on your way back, not knowing the exact reason why, but also not being able to make the strange feeling in your stomach stop. you sent a text to jess once you were halfway there, telling her not to worry and to have fun, and that your stomach was feeling a bit upset because of your period. she didn’t respond until 45 minutes passed, so you were already in the safety of your room by then. you guessed they must have had some sort of pretty interesting conversation for her not to see the messages before.
jess: you shouldng have lefy alone
jess: well tslk
jess: jakes mad too
jess: youre too irrespinsible
although it hurt to admit, she wasn’t that wrong. responsibility had been your strength once, but it all felt like it wasn’t worth it anymore. you didn’t respond to the messages, just telling her you had made it safe. you went to bed while being aware of all the important things you would have to face once the week started, making you wish you could just stop time and go to sleep for a few weeks straight. a few months would have been great too.
you texted jake on sunday night, feeling obligated to. only a day had passed since that awful conversation you two had had, but you had sadly promised him you would actually show up for the project.
you: hey. i told you i am free all week to finish the project, so i am checking in to see if maybe you were available tomorrow after class?
three hours went by before your phone vibrated at one am.
jake: ok
you already knew this was about to be the most awkward experience you'd had in a long time.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
you arrived at the library on monday right after your classes ended, entering the usual spot you had been frequenting before the whole thing had gone down. you waited around forty five minutes before jake decided to show up, walking towards you in an extremely calm manner. it was infuriating.
“hey.” you forced yourself to say, as he only nodded with his head without saying a word back. the day you actually finished that punishment of a project would be the same day you would feel free for the first time in a while. you wasted no time in order to leave as early as possible, not even making a remark on his late arrival. you reread all the parts you had made at home on your own, trying to get his opinion on how you could connect it all together. but you didn’t get a word back. jake kept looking at his phone while mindlessly scrolling on his laptop, not even sparing you a glance. you had had enough, though. you wanted to lay in bed and dissociate for hours as you had been doing for the past few weeks. but instead, you had consciously dragged yourself to that damn library knowing what you had talked about in that nightmare of a conversation the night before. you had done it for him just to stupidly show up to not even speak to you. “why are we here if you’re not even going to listen? i have better things to do, you know.”
“really? what could those better things possibly be?” you stiffened. was he still mad about what you had talked about at the party? what were you supposed to do about it anymore? you were trying your best to show up as a project partner, but he wasn’t even allowing you to do it.
“what is your problem?” jake stayed silent, still scrolling through his phone as if you didn’t even exist, ignoring your presence. “you know what? i’m leaving. we’ll try again tomorrow if you’re in the mood by then.” you started packing your things hurriedly, needing to flee from the awkwardness.
“do you ever stop running away?” “what?” you stopped all your movements, shocked at his words.
“you heard me.”
“i don’t know what this is about, but i don’t care either, so.”
“have you ever cared about anything i’ve said, anyway?”
“what is this sudden victim complex you’ve got going on, jake? i already told you i realized i’ve been a shit project partner but i’m trying to fix it! what else can i do? i can’t turn back time, you know?”
jake humorlessly laughed at your words, making you have that weird stomach feeling again. “the fucking project…”
“what?! i’ll fucking tell mr. jones to just assign someone else to work with you if i need to. i don’t care about our progress anymore at this point. i’m not even going to be second on rankings anymore, anyway. so it doesn’t even make sense for us to do this shit together, right?”
“you’re giving up, just like that?”
“i can’t keep up, so. you win.”
“i win?!”
“it’s been three long years of trying to get to you up there. you probably already did, but now i know it won’t ever happen for sure. so you win, yeah.”
“then i hope you’re proud of the fact that you can’t keep promises. neither to yourself nor to others.”
“what are you even saying, jake?”
“you told me you would come back.” you stared at him as your throat went dry and your palms became sweaty. you couldn’t understand why he was bringing up that moment all of a sudden.
“t-the other night? i asked sunoo for painkillers and towels but once i got back you were already assisted. you didn’t need my help anymore. do you think i didn’t make sure you weren’t bleeding out before i left? is that why you’re so mad?”
“you promised you would come back. and you just fucking left without saying a word to anyone, god knows at what fucking hour and all alone?”
“for fuck’s sake! was i supposed to knock while jess was practically on her knees for you and give you the fucking painkillers? do you know how awkward that is for someone else, jake?”
“she wasn’t.” you held your tears back once again as a dry laugh escaped your throat. you couldn’t comprehend what he could possibly want to gain from that argument, making it feel pointless to explain yourself.
“she was on the floor, jake. you were practically drooling all over her. i saw you guys and that’s fine, but don’t expect me to just interrupt… that! to fucking say bye? like?”
“i was waiting for you.” his voice sounded softer when he said that, confusing you even more.
“why does it matter when someone helped you anyway? not even someone, jess! i knew she would take good care of you. way better than i ever could.”
“why do you keep bringing her up?”
“because she’s… she used to be my best friend. and because you’re… something with her now. it makes sense.”
“we’re nothing.”
“i don’t need to know that. just make sure she knows that.”
“you do need to know.”
“what?” jake suddenly stood up, his figure looming over you while he breathed rapidly. you could tell he was furious, although you still didn’t exactly get why.
“if i did something, you would need to know.” “can you just… talk normally?” you tried to step back, still not looking at him directly as it felt like he could murder you with a look. you suddenly felt his hand pulling your wrist, not allowing you to take that step while tugging you forward.
“tell me you don’t feel it.” “w-what are you even saying, jake?”
“you fucking mess me up.” you looked up at him then, not knowing if you were understanding him right. you were so scared, but maybe it was all you needed to finally stop thinking about him. maybe your instincts were finally working for someone and this was your sign to let go. although you couldn’t understand why he would want that too, and you still weren’t sure if he was hinting at it, you still allowed yourself to look at his lips. they were plumper than usual, reminding you of two nights ago when he was fighting you while tipsy. you were starting to wonder if he was drunk at that moment too.
“what do you want from me?” you were almost whispering, not being able to find your voice anymore. you felt him so close you were going insane by the minute, hating him for having so much power over you.
“tell me to stop.” “jake-“
“just say no and i’ll fucking let go.” but you didn’t. you didn’t say anything, letting him drag you to an empty secluded classroom as if it wasn’t jake. jake, who you couldn’t even look in the eye. jake, whom you had had a one sided competition with for years now. jake, who had fucked your old best friend after you had told him how deeply she had hurt you. jake, who was now cornering you between a table and his body, making you feel helpless.
“we’re going to regret this.” you whispered again, afraid of hearing your own words.
“i can’t fucking stop thinking about it though.” after a beat of silence, you finally spoke.
“then do it.” he wasted no time after you said that, taking your words as a forward sign. he suddenly kissed you, letting all his hunger out in a single motion. he was harsh, grabbing you steadily by your neck while crushing his mouth onto yours. you couldn’t help but moan at the sudden intrusion, not being too confident in your kissing skills either. still, it felt like he was too out of it to question your form.
“wait-“ you tried to pull back, but he suddenly spun you around, his heavy breath on your neck as his crotch pressed onto your back.
“you feel it, huh? i’m so fucking mad at you, i think it makes it worse.”
“jake, fuck-“
“i hate you so much.” he kept desperately grabbing your whole body, moans coming out of both of your mouths as he ground himself against your ass without a stop. he kept your head forward, turning your neck with his hand whenever you unconsciously tried looking behind you.
“just take off my fucking pants.” you said between whines, feeling much needier than ever before in your whole twenty years of life. he suddenly undid your jeans and dragged them down, as his long fingers entered your wet cunt. it all felt so rushed and rough, not a single care being taken by either of you. you could practically feel the shame you both were experiencing, wanting it to be over but unable to make yourselves stop simultaneously.
“can you ever stop giving orders, huh?” jake kept rubbing circles around your clit, making you feel so good but so overwhelmed by his presence. you couldn’t believe he was actually inside you. the sim jake was finger fucking you, and it all seemed so surreal that you already felt like you couldn’t hold your orgasm in for much longer. “have we finally discovered the only way to shut you up, mmh?” you suddenly felt him whispering in your ear, making it all feel even more intimate. his words were more than enough to make your whole body tremble in pleasure, completely drenching his fingers in the process as you bit your lower lip to not moan at full volume. you had experimented with your own fingers before, but it was nothing like what jake had made you feel in a few minutes. he kept his rhythm steady as you heard him panting in your ear, being able to feel the desperation through his breathing only. your legs were shaking, so you mentally thanked him for holding your body still without dropping you to the ground. he kept using his fingers inside you, the overstimulation making you whine into your own palm as an attempt to muffle your sounds. your cheeks were burning, ashamed at how quickly you had come while only using his fingers.
“how about you go on your knees for me?” jake kept talking in your ear as your body still trembled from the overwhelming stimulation. you were now panicking about your absolute lack of experience, but you still complied, feeling too out of it to put coherent thoughts together. you slowly went down so that your knees didn’t give out, watching him put the same hand he had just had in you inside his mouth, dragging his tongue around his slender fingers. you still weren’t looking at each other for some reason, so you quickly took your eyes off him while waiting for instructions.
as he pulled his pants down, you felt the need to say something before fucking it up completely. “i have never…”
“i know. i’ll help.” jake spoke between pants, his throbbing tip leaking pre cum in front of you. you didn’t confront him about how on earth he would know that so surely, although you obviously had the urge to. if you ever talked to him again after all that, you might ask. “open wide.” you obeyed, genuinely feeling like you were under a spell that didn’t allow you to control your own actions. he introduced himself into your mouth, making you quickly taste the salty liquid on your lips. as he tangled his fingers between your hair strands, he began to push your head deeper and deeper, obliging your throat to adapt to the shape of his cock. you couldn’t help but make a gag sound, looking up at him to be faced with closed eyes and an unrecognizable expression.
“f-feels so fucking good… fuck…” he wasn’t letting you go, the lack of oxygen quickly catching up to you. you tapped on the back of his thigh as a signal for your much needed release, but he seemed to be in trance. after a few more seconds, tears started to spill down your cheeks, making you panic while whines came out of the same mouth that was full of his cock. "you look so dumb like this. you're always such a smart girl, but look at you now..."
he finally let you go, quickly stealing a glance of your fucked-out state. "d-don't call me dumb." you said after catching your breath, not being so sure about who you were trying to convince anymore. he smirked at your words, which only confirmed that he also knew you didn't really dislike it. jake kept stroking his cock at a rhythmic pace right in front of your face, making you mentally prepare yourself for what you thought was about to come. he whined, sounding so needy it made you weak. sweet sounds kept coming out of his mouth, which made you understand a tiny bit better why everybody wanted to have a special moment with him so badly. he suddenly looked at you in the eyes, making you freeze instantly as he spoke. “stupid slut can only not argue when she has a dick right in front of her face, huh?” your breath hitched, somehow finding pleasure in the degrading words he had decided to use.
you kept looking up at him as you reached out to switch his hands for yours, causing him to let out a high pitched moan that only made you even needier. “is that good?”
“please… don’t fucking stop.” jake groaned as he breathed even faster, making you realize he was probably close. although he had his eyes closed again, you kept looking at his face, being fully captivated by his facial expressions. it was pure lust and pleasure, the kind of face you would have never thought could be caused by you. but there you were, jerking the sim jake off right after he had made you come on his fingers only. “oh my god… you fucking… i’m gonna…”
“do it, jake.” jake suddenly moaned so loudly you were sure people on another floor could hear. you shushed him in the process, the anxiety of being caught together not leaving even when you seemed to have bigger problems. like most of your upper body being covered by his cum, for example. your hair felt sticky and your mouth was full of spit, while your shirt was stained and your mascara was runny. what had just happened looked so physically obvious, it made you feel so ashamed you couldn’t even look up. both of you were silent as your breathing slowed down, the tension being so palpable it made you want to vomit. it was the textbook definition of awkward.
you tried to get up from the floor while balancing yourself on a nearby table. jake didn’t look at you neither, pulling up his pants as he tucked himself in in pure silence. it had almost been like a dissociative experience for you both, only becoming conscious of what had just happened once it was over. once you were up on your two feet, you reached for your bag to look for tissues, wanting to at least get out of that classroom without jake’s cum dripping down your chin. you quickly wiped what you felt was more visible, letting the rest to be fixed in the bathroom with a mirror available. “i’ll go first. j-just… stay here for a moment, just in case.”
“you’ve got… a little bit of… right there.” jake pointed at your cleavage, some drops of his release still on there.
“y-yeah. i’ll go to the bathroom now to clean up.” “good.”
“okay.” he looked down while fixing his shirt, an unreadable expression on his face as if nothing had happened. it seemed like the two of you wanted to pretend nothing had happened, actually. “then bye.” you found your most polite smile to show him, making the situation even more awkward for both of you. you fled from the scene as you shut the door right behind you, quickly running off to the bathroom. once again, tears started to run down your cheeks as soon as you entered the stall, feeling too overwhelmed to just ignore it. you felt guilty and stupid and ashamed all at once, having the need to never see his face ever again. how were you supposed to just finish the project? to meet up with him all alone and not address it? to act as if it didn’t affect you at all? you knew he was experienced when it came to hook ups, so it would obviously be too ordinary for him to even give it a second thought. but for you, it was your first sexual experience, and you had decided to give that moment to jake. you knew virginity was a stupid concept and it all didn’t matter once you looked at the bigger picture, but it still felt like such a waste to share such an intimate moment with someone who could not give two fucks about you. to someone who actually told you he hated you in the act. and although your feelings were mutual and you hated him too, it still hurt.
there was also the fact that he was fucking the girl who used to be your best friend. and although you knew they weren’t anything serious, it still didn’t feel fair to let yourself be touched by the same man without telling her. but you couldn’t tell her, you couldn’t tell anyone. no one could ever know about that encounter and you knew jake would feel the same about it. you wished you didn’t even know about it yourself, so acting as if nothing had happened was the only option left. blocking it out of your memory was all you needed to do, right?
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
days passed and neither of you talked about it. neither of you talked about anything, really. the project was left untouched, as if you hadn’t been fighting about how important it was for both of your futures a week ago. you hadn’t gone back to class either, but you knew you were at your limit with the number of classes you could miss. you basically were about to fail because of how absent you were, which kind of was a reality check for how much you wanted to give up on life. still, you had a bit of rationality left, which made you actually get up that morning and attend your classes. you would send emails later as a sad attempt to get your professors’ trust back.
you didn’t want to see him. you successfully blocked everything out of your mind for those few days you didn’t go to uni, but being in that building again gave you so much whiplash it was impossible to ignore. you wandered through the halls with your head down, since you needed to avoid everyone now more than ever. the fact that that place was becoming hell by the minute made you extremely upset, knowing you once were so excited to even be accepted into it. as you were walking out of your first class while having a whole breakdown inside your mind, you started hearing a commotion in the hall, instinctively catching your attention while obliging you to put your head up. you then saw a big group of people looking at the wood panel on the wall all together, quickly making you realize what it was. the rankings.
“how the fuck am i up there?! yo!” “dude, you’re right under jake. that’s crazy.” “you’re actually second, sunghoon?!”
although it was obviously bound to happen, it still didn’t feel real until you actually saw it. seventh. you had slacked so much you had moved five ranks down. and the difference between first and second place was now bigger than ever before. you stayed still behind everyone else as you stared at the printed out numbered list. all the voices became muffled while you quietly dissociated, almost having an out of body experience. you were probably going to get kicked out, you couldn’t afford it. you would have to use all your savings to only be able to pay for half a year. jake had moved up a decimal. he had got even better, while you miserably failed to keep up. still, you couldn’t find the energy to despise him. you didn’t have the energy to shed tears, to even be upset. you just wanted to go home and lay in bed, no matter if you were second, sixth or last. you were drained.
“y/n. i haven’t seen you around at all lately.” a familiar voice interrupted your pathetic train of thought, making you turn to the side to face a slightly worried looking mr. jones. you were acting so stupidly you hadn’t actually planned how this encounter would go. and now, it was happening right in front of you.
“y-yeah. i am so sorry about that, professor. it has been a rough… month. i’m trying to be more present now, though.” your professor lightly nodded with his head in an understanding manner, making you pray that that was the end of your conversation. you quickly realized it was not, as he kept calmly speaking.
“i haven’t seen jake this week neither, which is strange considering he’s the only one who comes to our reunions. is the project going well? it’s supposed to be tutored by me, do not forget that. you need to come and see me so that we can discuss it, y/n.” being nagged by your university professor was definitely a humbling experience. still, you couldn’t deny he was right. “jake! we were actually just talking about you. come here.” no, it couldn’t be. you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as your whole body completely froze in fear. a tired looking jake appeared in frame, politely smiling back at your excited professor. he didn’t look at you, which you were extremely grateful for, as you couldn’t stand maintaining eye contact with the guy you had had your first sexual experience with while supposedly being your academic rival right in that moment.
“i need to see a report on basically the whole project now by the end of next week. we need to keep this going, okay? i trust you a lot, you guys are my top students for a reason.” not anymore, you wanted to say. could sunghoon do this with jake now that they were top one and two together? you wanted to ask. instead, you quietly nodded your head yes, too afraid to say it out loud. you would maybe send an email later. “congratulations, jake. your progress is just outstanding and you always have the strength to overcome yourself somehow. it’s beautiful to see you grow. and y/n, a setback is not a reason to give up. you’ll be up there again soon if you keep working like you’ve always done. do not think this is going to make me regret my decision on choosing you for this project, i know your potential.” you felt even worse now. how could you have ignored this sweet man who was actually the only person in this world rooting for you? you smiled at him with teary eyes as you repeatedly murmured thank you, getting too emotional to fight it back. “you two can always email me if you need anything, project related or not. i’ll see you at the end of the week, try to have fun.” you didn’t miss how he only maintained eye contact with you while he said that, confirming he knew that something was definitely not right.
you saw him walk away, leaving you standing right next to jake all alone. you didn’t have the strength to say anything, to anyone really. “so… i’ll go now.” you were ready to immediately run off, but jake’s voice unexpectedly stopped you.
“are you going to talk to professor jones?” “about?”
“giving up on the project.” you knew he was wording it like that on purpose. you also knew he was right, but his words still made your chest tighten.
“i-i thought about sending an email later, yeah. to consider it all, see what he thinks.”
“and what about what i think?”
“since sunghoon is now second, he could take on the rest of it with you. it’ll be the most comfortable option for you too, surely.”
“could you please stop assuming shit? it’s getting really annoying at this point.” you saw his jaw tighten as his tone got harsher, already too used to his mean stare to care. maybe you were assuming, but you also knew you were right. you had been fighting since the beginning of all of it and only really got along for a few lucky weeks, in which you still bickered with each other every single day. and now you were so depressed and unmotivated you couldn’t find the strength to simply care, which you knew he would not understand and would only make him more pissed. there was also the fact that you had half fucked and had not touched the topic at all, which only made it even more awkward. so yeah, you were pretty confident to assume he would be more comfortable working with someone who was his childhood friend. you didn’t understand why he was presenting it as such a wild guess.
“i’ll probably have to go anyway, so.”
“what do you mean go?”
“like, leave uni.” “what are you saying? have you officially lost your mind?”
“no. but there’s a big possibility i’ve officially lost my scholarship. and you know, being a part time server on the weekends does not make you a millionaire.”
“mr. jones said it. a setback is not a reason to give up.”
“mr. jones and you live in a different world from mine, it seems.”
“in my world, you’ve always been able to be up there. so what changed now?” the halls were pretty empty by then, making jake’s slightly raised voice sound louder.
“a lot, actually.“ “yeah, i’ve noticed.”
you both fell quiet, a heavy silence coming between you two as you didn’t know how to end the conversation. you were so desperate to leave that building and most importantly, to leave his side. “why did it change, though?” jake suddenly spoke, half whispering his words as if they were slipping from his mouth without his permission.
“jake… it’s just hard to explain.”
“but why won’t you try? try to explain it. what is it? do i have anything to do with it? does jess? please, y/n.” you were shocked at the desperation in his voice, making your chest tighten as you tried to build an answer for him. the truth was that everything had exploded right in your face and you had finally realized that maybe, just maybe, you couldn’t keep up. you weren’t strong or smart enough, and you were trying to make amends with the fact that it had been haunting you for years without end. you had simply reached your limit.
“i-it’s… i mean… jess coming back obviously made me be a little too emotional. irrational, even. but that’s obviously not all of it.”
“and me?” “you what?”
“did you change because of me?” you slightly opened your mouth just to close it again. you were trying to choose your words carefully, because yeah, jake had changed something inside you that you were too scared to confront. something irrational that felt stupid to even contemplate for a second, so him not being in your life anymore had definitely helped you not think about it. although you obviously couldn’t tell him that.
“i-i don’t know. i just know i can’t keep up. i can’t keep going like this.” “like how?”
“killing myself to reach you. i don’t see why i should keep doing this shit. life doesn’t make sense right now, to be honest.”
“so is it uni? or is it life?” “i just know i need time, jake.”
“well, we don’t have much of that.” jake went back to sounding cold and direct, making you wonder why he was inquiring so much if he would just get mad at your sad attempt to give him honest answers.
“that’s why i’m going to ask mr. jones to assign it to sunghoon if they both want to. if i had known i would get like this, i wouldn’t have accepted it from the beginning. and i am sorry. you deserve a good, responsible partner, and right now i’m everything but that.”
“do you think i would ever want that?” “i think you should.”
“you always think for me. and somehow you always get it wrong.” you wondered when you could have possibly thought so much on his behalf. even if it was a sensitive moment, you couldn’t help but always get a little annoyed at jake’s words. “so you’re just going to drop out?”
“i don’t know if i have many more options, jake.”
“you could always work as hard as you’ve always done and come back to your rank.”
“i just told you! i’m killing myself living like this, jake. i am not like you. it doesn’t fucking come naturally to me, at all. nothing. neither studies nor being a fucking functional human being, it seems.”
“do you think it is that easy? that it’s all instinctive?”
“i think you’re a smart person. truly intelligent, and a lovely guy. and me having to compete against that just to be able to study here means having to constantly fight a losing battle. and i’m just so tired i wish i could stay in bed forever right now. so yeah, i am giving up. and if you want to judge me about it, go ahead. to be honest, i don’t have the strength to care about anything anymore, so you are free to do so.” you quietly spoke as you tried to be honest with your feelings while putting it all into words, which was not an easy task.
“this is not me judging, y/n. this is me trying to… make you stay.”
“i don’t have a real reason to.”
“we’re all here for a reason. we’re all needed here.”
“that’s easy for you to say.”
“what do you mean by that?”
“nothing. let’s just… leave it.”
“no! say it! you’re not running away like you always do.”
you sighed at his insistence, giving up on your attempt to not voice your thoughts. “you are for sure needed here, jake. meanwhile, there are other people who have no one. not everyone’s life experience is the same, you know.” you shrugged your shoulders up in annoyance, knowing he would never understand where you were coming from.
“you are needed too!” jake kept raising his voice in an angry tone, obliging you to take a deep breath in order to supress the primal instinct you were having to beat the shit out of him.
“whatever, jake. this goes nowhere.” you tried to speak in a fake calm tone, knowing it did not make any sense to keep the conversation going.
“i need you.” jake suddenly spoke more quietly, making you doubt of what you had just heard coming out of his mouth. you stayed silent, trying to make sense of his confusing words. “i need you to be up there just a decimal away, trying to beat me to keep me grounded. i need you to argue and fight back and i need you to humble me and give me a different perspective because we’re so similar but so different all at once.” you couldn't stop looking at him, feeling as if you were under a spell that didn't allow you take your attention off him. it felt like he was under a spell too, one that forced him to only be able to speak nonsense. “i need your presence. in class, in the library, even at a stupid party that you didn’t want to go to, even if i ignore you there. and i need you to finish this project with me because it won’t ever be the same without you.”
“you don’t mean that.” you quickly said, not comprehending why he was so eagerly trying to make you write the project with him all of a sudden. you didn't understand why the sim jake would be so insecure about presenting the project with someone else that he would give you that fake sappy speech you definitely didn't need to hear.
“then why am i saying it? do i look like the kind of person to just go around saying that kind of shit to everyone?”
“you told me you hate me.” you couldn't hold back at this point, having to get it out of your chest to prove your point.
“because i do. you make me hate you because you make me feel so unsure of everything i was so confident about. you make me question myself and i fucking hate the uncertainty of it.” as you heard his words, you couldn't help letting out a dry laugh, making his expression turn even sharper.
“the thing is you’ll always be better than me. you’ll always win. you’ll always have the power of talking to people and being likable and being truly intelligent, and i won’t ever have that. this was never a true competition because i was the only one fighting to change the end results. so what are you so uncertain of?” you pointed at him in an accusatory manner, knowing you wouldn't let him win this one. “don’t worry though, because it is mutual. i’ve hated you for years now because you are everything i’ve ever wanted to be. everything i’ve fought for and haven’t fully got, you effortlessly have it. everything i know i can’t be, you just are. and being your partner only made me realize that the lines between admiration and hatred are a little too blurred.” the bitter tone in your speech was so noticeable it was kind of pityful, but you couldn't contain your emotions anymore. “so i think i have my reasons to hate you because i see you as a threat. but you? how could i ever cause you trouble when i can’t even reach you?”
“do you genuinely think that’s what you make me so uncertain of? academics?”
“then what is it?! why is it that you dislike me so?”
“because i fucked your friend to feel something and still, all i could ever think of was when our next library hangout would be.” jake whispered with a heavy voice, now being the one who was pointing his finger at you. he took a deep breath as you stayed silent, trying to process everything he was implying in such a rushed way. you weren’t prepared for this at all, since you would have never guessed you would be even be sharing a single word with him at that point. “all i could think of was why you were pulling away, and then making excuses, and then not coming to class. all i can think of is you because you won’t give me answers.”
“answers to what?!” “is you not wanting to accept it part of why you disappeared?”
“accept what exactly?” you raised your eyebrows in a challenging way, not wanting to accept that maybe you knew what he was talking about, and maybe he already had your answer.
“that you feel the same. that you can’t stop thinking about me.” jake kept trying to keep his volume steady, since you were still in the middle of the hallway where you bumped into your professor. no one was around, but both of you were too afraid of someone hearing your little discussion, given the content of it. “you have to feel something, come on.”
“how could i not?! we… we did that. and i know it’s not the same for you, but to me it’s a big deal.” you automatically put your hands in your head as you remembered your encounter with jake. every time a brief flashback came to your mind, you felt the need to shake it off physically, as if trying to get the memory out of your body. “i can’t believe i actually did that with you, fuck.”
“do you regret it?” jake was now staring into your eyes, making you look around while trying to avoid his gaze at all cost. you just couldn’t do it, couldn’t look in the eyes of the man who was confronting you about your possible regret for having your first sexual experience with him.
“let’s just not. please.” as you pleaded to let the topic go, you saw his expression change instantly. his brows frowned and his jaw clenched, making you comprehend he hadn’t liked that answer at all.
“so are we ever going to actually address anything?! you’re fucking impossible, i swear.”
“where does that take us, jake? i address how i feel and then what? i have to keep seeing you and act as if nothing is going on?”
“if we address it, then maybe we can do something about it!” jake suddenly spoke out loud, making you jump in fear of what anybody could hear, even if nobody seemed to be around.
“do not raise your voice, fuck! and what exactly are we going to do, huh? go ahead, enlighten me.” jake stayed silent as your voice trembled, knowing he had no idea what to answer. “exactly. so stop acting like anything you are saying actually makes sense.” as he heard your words, you noticed a slight change in his demeanor for a second, making your chest automatically tighten.
“fine! this is fucking stupid anyway.”
“yeah, fine. the report will be done by the end of the week, so don’t worry about it. and you don’t need to come to mr. jones’ meeting, i’ll cover up for you since you’ve been going alone these past weeks.”
“yeah, whatever.” jake turned around and left the building, parting ways while mad at each other once again. some things may never change, you thought.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
as you opened your laptop to miserably continue writing what felt like your death statement, you received a notification that made your phone vibrate, which wasn’t that usual for you on a friday evening.
unknown number: hey this is sunoo !!!
unknown number: from the party and stats ii
unknown number: im calling u okay ??
you didn’t have much time to react before your phone rang repeatedly, making your heart jump inside your chest from the near fatal levels of anxiety you were suddenly experiencing. you could have just let it ring, act as if your phone was silenced and send a text back later. but maybe, this was your opportunity to show someone you could be nice, that having embarrassing amounts of social anxiety didn’t mean you were unapproachable. fuck it.
“hey, sunoo?” “hi, y/n. sorry for the sudden call.” sunoo giggled lightly, as if he knew he had startled you and was genuinely sorry for it.
“that’s okay! no worries.” you tried to play it off, knowing you were actually feeling so anxious you could crawl up the wall.
“so… since you probably won’t let me take the top i accidentally destroyed to the cleaner…” “sunoo! first do not say you “destroyed” it. could that be any more dramatic? and second, yeah, you’re right. i won’t let you.”
“well... then i thought i should make it up to you somehow. so how about we hang out? i know it's not a big deal, but since i don't see you around much, i thought i could help distract you from uni a bit." your mind started spinning as you tried to make sense of what he was saying. that was the last thing you thought sunoo would call you for, so you weren’t ready for it in the slightest. “you can say no, you know. i know you are a really busy student.” sunoo giggled again in an attempt to make things less awkward given your previous silence, which you really appreciated. you did want to hang out with someone though, even more with someone as cool as him. even if you were on the brink of a panic attack, you wanted to.
“n-no! i mean, i do want to hang out. i’m actually like, super grateful right now. i was just… surprised.” “surprised? i told you we should be friends, y/n! how can we be friends if we don’t ever see each other?” you laughed at his sweetness, becoming mesmerized at how good he was at socializing. he definitely needed to teach you his ways.
“anyway, so the plan is... a small get-together at my apartment. i invited a few people over and i thought you could come too?" "when you say "small get-together"... how small are we actually talking?" you said in a doubtful tone, not trusting you and sunoo shared the same concept for small when it came to being social.
"mmh... i would maybe say fifteen people? if nothing gets too out of control, yeah. i would say about that many." "is that what you consider small, sunoo?"
"is that what you consider big, y/n? we need to find you new guys, then." sunoo said as he giggled in a mischievous way, making you chuckle too.
"sunoo!" "sorry, sorry. now seriously, it's going to be fun. you know i'm good with people and i'll literally force you to have fun. so...?"
there was a pause after that, but it didn’t feel empty like the ones you were used to. it felt full, actually, like someone had filled the silence with intention instead of expectation. you found yourself sitting a little straighter without really noticing, staring at your screen like the answer might already be written there if you looked hard enough. something in the way sunoo said it, the casual certainty, the assumption that you could just exist somewhere else for a night and it would be fine, it made your chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant “i don’t really… do parties, sunoo. last time it went soooo horribly, i don't even want to remember it.” you said finally, quieter than you meant it to be, immediately hating how predictable it sounded, like you were repeating a line you had rehearsed for years instead of answering a simple invitation.
“i know.” sunoo replied, and there was no judgment in it, just acknowledgement. “but that’s kind of why i’m inviting you, y/n, not because you already do it well.” that made you stop, fingers hovering over your keyboard, because it should have been simple, just a yes or no, just another thing to decline and forget about and return to your increasingly collapsing routine. but your life had started feeling so small lately that even the idea of refusing something that wasn’t required felt like reinforcing the walls around you. “it’s not going to be overwhelming.” he added quickly, as if sensing the exact direction your thoughts were spiraling. “and if it is, you can literally just come to me and i’ll get you out, no questions, no drama, i promise.”
you almost laughed at that, because you didn’t really believe in exits that clean, not anymore. not with jess, not with jake, not even with yourself. but still — “okay.” you said before you could overthink it out of existence, the word slipping out too quickly, too final, like your brain had briefly disconnected from its usual committee of warnings
“okay?” sunoo repeated, like he wanted to make sure he had heard correctly.
“yeah.” you swallowed, already feeling the familiar panic of commitment creeping in but forcing yourself to continue anyway. “i’ll come.”
there was a beat of silence on the other end, and then sunoo laughed, bright and immediate, like you had just agreed to something normal instead of something that felt like stepping off a ledge you had been standing on for months “you’re actually coming.” he said, almost disbelieving. “okay wait, this is big, this is actually big, y/n. i’m proud of you right now.”
“now, don’t make it weird.” you muttered automatically, but your voice had softened without permission.
“i’m not making it weird, i’m making it true.” he said, and then, lighter again, “i’ll send you my address, okay? and i’ll make sure you don’t end up standing in a corner the entire time like a tragic main character.”
“i am not a tragic main character.” you said, even though your entire life recently had been arguing otherwise.
"i know! so that's why we're proving it tonight. see you later, y/n!" and then he was gone, the call ending as quickly as it had started, leaving you staring at your phone like it had just made a decision on your behalf that you weren’t entirely sure you were qualified to make. you turned back to your laptop, cursor blinking at you like nothing had changed, like you hadn’t just accepted an invitation into a space full of people you didn't know, all alone. for a second you considered undoing it, sending a follow-up message, pulling back into the safety of your own excuses. but your fingers didn’t move. instead, you just sat there, feeling something unfamiliar settle in your chest, not quite hope, not quite relief, more like the brief illusion that you might still be allowed to exist somewhere outside of exhaustion and expectations and the quiet weight of always being second to everything you wanted.
by the time you arrived, you almost turned around twice. once while standing outside the building, once while waiting for the elevator. neither attempt was particularly convincing, though. they felt less like genuine decisions and more like ritual, the predictable final stage of any plan that involved leaving your comfort zone. your brain offered excuses automatically now, producing them with the efficiency of a machine that had been trained on years of avoidance. you could still go home and nobody would be angry, you thought. sunoo would probably understand. you could return to the familiar rhythm of proving your worth through productivity until you were too exhausted to think about anything else. or you could just lay in bed for hours just how you had been doing lately. the thought should have been comforting, but instead, it just made you tired. when the elevator doors opened, you stepped out before you could change your mind again. music drifted faintly through the hallway, voices too. you stared at the apartment number for a moment, then knocked. almost immediately, the door flew open.
"shut up." "no, because this is history." "it's not history!"
"for you?" he pointed dramatically. "this is absolutely history." despite yourself, your mouth twitched, making sunoo gasp. "oh my god, and she's smiling too."
"i'm leaving." "no you're not."
before you could protest, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside. the apartment was warm, that was the first thing you noticed. warm and loud and alive. not overwhelmingly so, but enough that it immediately felt different from the quiet apartment you had left behind. people occupied every available space, so you quickly realized there were a bit more than fifteen people inside. it didn't even surprise you, to be honest. some sat cross-legged on the floor, others crowded around the kitchen island. music played from somewhere deeper inside the apartment, blending with conversation and laughter until everything became one continuous sound. you froze for a second as your brain immediately began scanning for danger. where do i stand. where am i supposed to look. i don't know anyone. what if everyone can tell i don't belong here. what if —
"hey." you blinked. sunoo was watching you. "breathe."
you frowned. "i am breathing."
"debatable." you rolled your eyes, which seemed to satisfy him.
"good." "good?"
"you rolled your eyes." "and?"
"that's normal behavior. we're aiming for normal behavior tonight."
"you're more annoying than i thought. you lied to me, sunoo." you said in a sarcastic tone, a light smile appearing without permission.
"that's even better." you couldn't help laughing. just a little, but enough. sunoo grinned like he had personally solved depression, which was deeply annoying but strangely comforting. the next hour passed differently than you expected. within ten minutes, you had been introduced to more people than you usually spoke to in an entire month. and somehow, none of them seemed particularly interested in judging you. a girl complimented your earrings, someone asked about your major. another person immediately started complaining about one of their professors, someone spent ten full minutes passionately arguing about the correct way to eat instant ramen. you found yourself listening more than speaking, but nobody seemed bothered by that. for once, silence wasn't treated like a problem that needed fixing. halfway through a conversation, you caught yourself laughing at something and immediately felt a strange ache in your chest. the realization hit unexpectedly, because you couldn't remember the last time you had done that. the thought lingered longer than it should have, because it wasn't happiness exactly. happiness felt too large a word, too permanent. this was smaller, more fragile, like finding a patch of sunlight in a room you had forgotten contained windows. for a moment, you stood near the kitchen holding a drink you hadn't touched much, watching people move around the apartment. laughing, talking, living. and suddenly an uncomfortable thought appeared — what if this is what everyone else had been doing? what if life wasn't supposed to feel like an endless attempt to stay afloat? what if there were entire versions of adulthood that didn't revolve around endurance? the thought should have been hopeful, but instead, it made your throat tighten. because if that was true, then somewhere along the way you had missed it. you had become so focused on surviving each week that you had stopped asking whether survival was supposed to be the goal. for a second, you felt strangely disconnected from yourself, like you were looking at your own life from a distance. the pressure, the loneliness, the way every achievement seemed to dissolve the moment you reached it. all of it suddenly appeared not tragic but absurd. you had spent so long waiting for life to begin after the next deadline that you hadn't noticed it was already happening. around you, without you. you took a longer sip from your drink, just enough to make you decide that, for tonight, you didn't want to think about it anymore. for tonight, you didn't want to measure your worth, you didn't want to compare yourself to anyone, you didn't want to think about the conference. or the scholarship, or the future, or jess, or jake. for one night, you wanted to be a person before you were a project. maybe tomorrow morning everything would return exactly as it had been, but standing there in the middle of a crowded apartment, surrounded by people who expected absolutely nothing from you, it felt like enough. for now, enough was more than you had been allowing yourself lately.
the small pocket of sunlight sunoo had cleared inside your chest actually stayed for hours, expanding into something that felt dangerously close to real happiness as you leaned against the kitchen counter. you took heavy gulps from a plastic cup filled with cheap vodka, chasing it with laughter you didn't have to force. you were drunk, the good kind of drunk where the sharp edges of the room start to blur and the music becomes a warm weight pressing against your shoulders, keeping you grounded in a way you hadn't felt in months. you were actually having fun, tasting a tiny sliver of what a regular twenty year old life was supposed to feel like, right until the heavy front door swung open and the cold air from the hallway cut straight through the warmth. it was that same involuntary, miserable instinct that made your eyes snap up, immediately tracking the shift in the room's energy as jake walked in. of course you had thought about the slight possibility of him being there, but you hadn't let it stop you from coming, which you were now regretting a little. he looked different, his hair falling into his eyes and wearing a oversized black hoodie that made him look smaller than usual. but you didn't run this time as the liquor in your veins gave you a stupid, stubborn sort of bravery. you just stayed in your corner, deliberately turning your back to him and pouring another heavy splash of alcohol into your cup, determined to ignore him. for two long hours, it became a silent, agonizing war of avoidance, both of you staying on opposite sides of the crowded apartment. you heavily drank down cup after cup just to find the nerve to exist in the same breathing space without completely losing your mind. you watched him out of the corner of your eye as he threw back shots at the kitchen island, his eyes dark and completely fixed on you whenever you laughed at something sunoo said, until the air in the room became so thick with unspoken venom and burning liquor that you couldn't breathe. you desperately needed to escape the suffocating heat, your head spinning violently as you stumbled your way through the back corridor, pushing open the heavy metal door to the fire escape just to let the freezing night air shock your system.
the click of the door behind you was almost immediate, and you didn't even have to turn around to know it was him because the sharp scent of his cologne was mixed with the heavy smell of alcohol breathing off his skin. "not now, jake." you whispered into the wind, your hands gripping the freezing metal railing to keep yourself steady as the world tilted slightly from the sheer amount of alcohol you had consumed. "i was having a good time for once. i was actually fine until you walked through that door."
jake didn't answer with his usual sharp arrogance. he just stumbled slightly as he stepped up next to you, his face flushed and his eyes wild with a messy, drunken desperation that matched the chaos in your own chest. "you were pretending i wasn't there." he rasped, his voice rough and completely stripped of his neat academic precision. his fingers suddenly caught your wrist with a loose, heavy grip that you didn't even have the strength to pull away from. "can't believe you've been doing it for weeks now, y/n. you've vanished from class, you've left me alone with all the data. and now you show up here smiling at everyone like i didn't touch you like that in that room."
your heart thumped in your chest at the mention of that, allowing you to see how drunk he was at that moment too. you let out a sharp, bitter laugh, the vodka burning the back of your throat as you finally looked at him. "because it meant nothing, jake. we are nothing. why are you even here? sunoo didn't say you were coming."
jake's grip tightened, his eyes narrowing as they became teary, completely unprompted. your body froze entirely at the sight of it. "because i told him to invite you. i told him everything, y/n. i told him because i was going fucking insane trying to figure out why you left."
the humiliation that washed over you in that second was heavier than any academic failure you had ever experienced. your stomach dropped so hard you felt physically sick, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped animal as you stared at his beautiful, desperate face through a blur of fresh tears. that classroom had been your rock bottom, the secret place where you had completely dismantled your own dignity and given your first time to a boy who claimed he hated you. and now that same boy was telling you he had taken that fragile, private moment and handed it over to his friend like it was just some casual gossip. "you told him?" your voice came out as a pathetic squeak, your hands coming up to your head as a sob tore through your chest. "you fucking told someone, jake? i trusted you to at least keep that between us, to let me pretend it was just a nightmare. and you went and exposed me to your friend? your friend who also happens to be the only person that i can call a friend right now too?!"
"no, y/n, it wasn't like that, i swear to god it wasn't." he panicked, his hands flying up to grip your upper arms, his fingers digging into your skin through your thin top as if he could force you to understand the chaos inside his head. "i didn't laugh about it, i didn't treat it like a joke. i was drowning. i've never felt like this about anyone in my entire life, and you locked me out so completely that i thought i was losing my mind. i needed help. i asked sunoo to bring you here so i could just look at you, so i could know you were still real and not just something i ruined."
"but you did ruin me!" you screamed, your voice cracking completely as you pushed against his chest with all your might. he barely moved though, his grip only tightening as his own tears finally spilled over his eyelashes, tracking down his flushed cheeks. "you ruined my head, you ruined my focus, and now i can't even look at sunoo without knowing he's picturing me on that classroom with you! you take everything from me, jake. you always take everything until there's absolutely nothing left for myself."
"then take something from me!" he yelled back, his voice breaking into a ragged, desperate sob that shook his entire frame. his forehead came down to press against yours until you could feel the heat radiating off his skin, his breath hot and ragged against your lips. "hate me, hit me, scream at me, do whatever the fuck you want, but stop acting like i'm the only one pulling the strings here. you think you're the only one drowning? look at me, y/n. look at my fucking hands."
you looked down involuntarily, seeing the way his fingers were trembling against your arms, his knuckles white. the untouchable number one, the golden boy of the behavioral sciences department, was completely falling apart on a freezing fire escape, stripped of his ego, his composure, and everything that made him superior to you. "i don't care about you or your stupid fucking hands, jake." you whispered, the alcohol making your head spin as the cold wind whipped your hair across your face. "i don't have the energy to care anymore. look at the wood panel on the wall inside. go look at the printed list. i moved five ranks down. i'm seventh."
"it's just one semester." he pleaded, his mouth moving against your skin as he spoke, desperately trying to catch your gaze. "mr. jones said it himself, it's just a setback. we can finish the report this weekend, we can present, and next term you'll be right back up there. you're too smart to let a stupid ranking define you."
"i don't have a next term, jake." you said, your voice dropping into a flat stillness that completely cut through his frantic energy. you stopped fighting his grip, letting your arms hang uselessly at your sides as you looked at him with empty, exhausted eyes. "my scholarship is gone. the criteria says you have to maintain a position in the top three to keep the funding. i checked the portal before i came here tonight. next month, my tuition doubles, and i have exactly seven hundred dollars in my savings account from my weekend shifts. i'm dropping out. i have to pack my bags and go home."
the silence that followed was suffocating, the muffled bass from the party inside the apartment suddenly feeling like it belonged to a different universe entirely. jake just stared at you, his mouth slightly open, his hands slowly loosening on your arms as the harsh reality of your words finally cracked through his sheltered world. hard work wasn't going to fix the variables and a low grade didn't just mean studying harder, it meant packing up your entire life because your bank account was empty.
"i can pay for it." he said suddenly, his voice rising in a frantic, terrifying pitch as he grabbed your wrists, his grip turning clumsy and desperate. "y/n, listen to me, i can help. i can call my family right now and we can talk about it. it's nothing to them, it's just a phone call. you can stay in the dorms, you don't have to leave, we can just fix it-"
"stop it!" you shrieked, pulling your hands back with such violent force that you scraped your knuckles against the metal railing. the sheer humiliation of his offer felt like a physical blow to your chest, exposing the unbridgeable gulf between the two of you. "do you have any idea how pathetic you're making me feel right now? you think you can just buy my survival? you think my entire life's tragedy can just be solved by a wire transfer from your parents?"
"i'm just trying to keep you here!" he shouted back, his face twisting in absolute agony as the tears poured down his face, his chest heaving under his hoodie. "because i don't know how to exist in this place if you're not here! i don't want sunghoon to challenge my data, i don't want anyone else sitting across from me in the library bickering about methodologies. i need you, y/n. i need the only person who actually looks at me and sees someone worth fighting instead of someone to admire."
"but it was never a fight for you, jake, i told you." you whispered, a final, heavy tear falling down your chin as the alcohol gave way to a cold clarity. "it was effortless for you, you wake up and you're brilliant. and i've spent three long years completely destroying my mental health just to stay some decimal points away from a guy who i thought didn't even know my name until some months ago. i am completely empty. i have no more money, i have no more friends, and i have absolutely nothing left inside of me to give to this university, or to mr. jones, or to you."
jake's shoulders completely collapsed inward, making him look so small under the flickering orange light of the fire escape. "did you really hate me that much?" he whispered into the dark. "the whole time? even in that classroom?"
"i hated how much i admired you." you murmured, stepping closer to him one last time, your hand moving automatically to touch the soft fabric of his hoodie before dropping back down. "and i hated that when you touched me, for a split second, i forgot that i was drowning. but we can't keep doing this, jake. we're just two broken people using each other to feel something stable, and it's making us toxic. it's making us mean."
he didn't argue. he just reached out, his trembling fingers gently tracing the line of your jaw, his thumb wiping away a stray tear with a tenderness you had never seen in him. when his lips met yours this time, there was no hunger, no harshness, and no anger like there had been the first time. it was a slow, mourning kiss, a silent acknowledgment of everything you could have been if the world had been a little more fair, tasting of cheap alcohol and the salty weight of a shared grief. you let yourself sink into it for one last, agonizing second, breathing in the sharp scent of his cologne and the warmth of his skin, memorizing the exact weight of his body against yours before you firmly pulled away.
"the report is finished." you said softly, backing toward the balcony door, your hand reaching behind you to grip the cold metal handle. "i formatted the final citations before i came here tonight. i'll send the file to your email when i get back to my room. submit it under your name, jake. you deserve the top spot."
"i don't give a fuck about the spot." he whispered, his eyes wide and completely vacant as he stood in the freezing wind, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. "don't go. please. just... let me walk you back."
"i want to." you whispered, the admission slipping out before you could stop it, tasting like the bitter vodka and the salt of your own tears as you looked at him. you suddenly saw the raw loneliness that he had been carrying at the top of that pedestal for years, a weight that was just as heavy as your own even if it looked different from the outside. "god, jake, you don't understand, i want to stay more than anything, i want to go back to the library and argue about variables. i want to stay here and keep fighting you for the top spot until we both lose our minds, but i can't." your hand trembled against the cold metal handle, the friction of the iron biting into your skin. his posture looked completely ruined in a way that made him look so human, so terribly fragile, that it made your chest ache. "i don't have a choice. i never had one. i'm just... out of time, jake. i'm so sorry." you didn't give him the chance to find more words or offer more pieces of a world you couldn't afford to live in, turning around with a quiet sob and pushing the heavy door open. you stepped back into the warm, blurred chaos of the apartment before your resolve could completely fail you and make you stay.
as the heavy metal door clicked shut behind you, cutting off the freezing wind and leaving jake standing entirely undone under the flickering orange bulb, you started walking through the crowded hallway. the bass from the speakers vibrated deep inside your hollow chest while people laughed and spilled drinks around you, entirely oblivious to the fact that your time there had just officially ended on a fire escape. you felt a terrifying wave of clarity wash over you, the alcohol finally settling into a cold finality that made the past three years of sleepless nights, skipped meals, and agonizing anxiety feel like a tragic joke of a sacrifice made for a numbered list that didn't even matter anymore. you thought about sunoo standing somewhere in that crowd, about the crushing humiliation of knowing jake had exposed that to him. but even that anger felt exhausted now, swallowed up by the heartbreaking realization that jake hadn't done it to hurt you — he had done it because he was drowning in his own isolated, perfect tower. it filled you with a heavy ache to realize that the one intimate piece of yourself you had kept protected through all the loneliness of your academic life now belonged to a boy who you were going to love and miss in the dark for the rest of your life. a boy whose effortless privilege allowed him to offer your entire tuition like a casual favor while you were left to pack your life into cardboard boxes with seven hundred dollars to your name.
but as you grabbed your coat and stepped out of the building into the quiet, dark street, the cool air hitting your face felt less like a punishment and more like a slow expiration. it was like a quiet release from a beautiful trap you had been building for yourself since the day you arrived. and though your chest felt entirely empty and your future was a terrifying black void of uncertainty, you took a deep breath of the night air and finally let yourself weep for the library nights that were gone, for the competition you had lost, and for the boy on the fire escape who you were leaving entirely alone at the top.
your camboy best friend invites you to one of his streams
pairing: camboy!jake x reader || wc: 3.2k || cw: smut! best friends to lovers, masturbation, oral sex (m and f rec.), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don't.), creampie, multiple orgasms, voyeurism (reader is secretly watching)/exhibitionism, light teasing, light overstimulation, dirty talk, praise, strong language, use of petnames || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: thank you anon for the request because PHEWWWW
you’re curled up in bed with your laptop balanced on your thighs, headphones in, heart racing like it always does when jake goes live. you’ve been secretly watching his streams for months now — ever since you accidentally stumbled across his account and realized your sweet, golden-retriever best friend was secretly one of the most popular camboys online.
tonight he’s shirtless on his bed, sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips, that signature playful grin on his face as he reads through the chat.
“you guys are so horny tonight,” he laughs, running a hand through his messy hair. his voice is lower than usual, the one he uses when he’s already worked up. “i see all the requests… but i’ve been thinking about something different lately.”
you sit up a little straighter, biting your lip. jake leans closer to the camera, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“there’s this girl… my best friend,” he says, voice dropping a bit. “i’ve been thinking about inviting her to one of these lives. she doesn’t know i do this, or at least i don’t think she does. but i keep imagining her here with me.”
your stomach drops. heat floods your face instantly. he’s talking about you.
“she’s really pretty, you know?” jake continues, smiling shyly now, a rare soft expression crossing his face. “super sweet, laughs at all my stupid jokes, always takes care of me when i’m tired from schedules. i think she’d be so cute on stream… all shy at first but maybe secretly into it.”
the chat explodes. comments flood in — “YES INVITE HER”, “collab of the year”, “bet she’s hot”, “please jake we need her”.
jake reads a few out loud and chuckles, cheeks turning slightly pink. “you guys would like that? me and my best friend together? fuck… just thinking about it is making me hard already.”
he shifts on the bed, palming himself through his sweatpants. your breath catches as you watch him. he’s talking about you. your best friend of years. the same jake who brings you coffee and sends you memes at 3am is currently touching himself on camera while thinking about inviting you.
“she’s probably gonna say no,” he says with a soft laugh, but there’s a hopeful edge to his voice. “she’s a good girl, you know? all innocent on the outside. but sometimes i catch her looking at me a little too long… makes me wonder.”
jake pushes his sweatpants down, freeing his hard cock. he strokes himself slowly, eyes half-lidded as he keeps talking.
“imagine her sitting here between my legs while i’m live… or maybe me eating her out on camera while she tries so hard to stay quiet. shit— you guys would love her. she has the prettiest moans, i just know it.”
your hand slips between your own thighs without thinking, breath shaky as you watch him. he’s fantasizing about you. out loud. on stream. thousands of people watching while he tells them how much he wants his best friend.
“would y’all like that?” he asks the chat, voice breathier now as he pumps his fist faster. “me corrupting my sweet best friend on stream? teaching her how to take my cock while you all watch?”
the chat goes feral. tips are pouring in. jake groans, head falling back as he fucks his fist.
“fuck… i really want her here. maybe i’ll ask her tomorrow. worst she can say is no, right?”
he cums hard a few minutes later, moaning lowly as stripes of white land on his toned stomach. even after he finishes, he keeps talking about you — how pretty you’d look covered in his cum, how he bets you’d be such a good girl for him and the camera.
you close the laptop the second the stream ends, heart hammering wildly in your chest. your face is burning. your panties are ruined.
the next day jake texts you like nothing happened.
jake: heyyy cutie, you free tonight? wanna come over and watch movies? i’ll order your favorite food 🥺
you stare at the message for a long time, thighs still pressed together from the memory of last night. you know exactly what he was doing. you know he was talking about you.
and you’re starting to think you don’t want to say no.
you show up at jake’s apartment that evening wearing comfy clothes — oversized hoodie and shorts — trying to act as normal as possible. your heart is still racing from last night’s stream, but you keep your face neutral when he opens the door with that bright, familiar smile.
“there’s my favorite girl!” he pulls you into a tight hug, smelling like his usual fresh cologne and laundry detergent. “i ordered your favorite pizza and those fried dumplings you like. come in.”
the night starts innocently enough. you both settle on his big couch, the tv playing some new comedy movie. jake keeps the vibe light — feeding you bites of food, poking your side when you laugh too hard, throwing his arm around your shoulders like he always does.
but you notice the little things tonight. the way his hand lingers longer on your thigh. the way his eyes keep drifting to your lips when you speak. the way he shifts in his seat every few minutes like he’s restless.
halfway through the movie, jake suddenly pauses it. the room goes quiet except for the low hum of the city outside.
“hey…” he starts, voice a little hesitant. he scratches the back of his neck, cheeks already turning pink. “can i tell you something? it’s kinda… weird.”
you turn to face him, trying to keep your expression innocent. “what’s up?”
jake bites his lip, then lets out a nervous laugh. “okay, so… i do this thing. online. i have this secret account where i… stream. like, adult stuff.”
your heart skips hard, but you stay quiet, letting him continue.
he watches your face carefully. “i’ve been doing it for a while. it’s just me, mostly. jerking off on camera, talking to people, you know? it helps with money and… i don’t know, it’s kinda fun.”
you nod slowly, pretending this is brand new information.
jake takes a deep breath. “last night… i was talking about you on stream.”
your thighs press together instinctively. “me?”
“yeah,” he admits, voice dropping lower. “i told them i’ve been thinking about inviting my best friend to join one of my lives. i kept talking about how pretty you are, how sweet you are, how i wonder what you’d sound like if i touched you on camera…”
he’s blushing hard now, but his eyes are dark as they meet yours.
“i couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole time. i came so hard just imagining you there with me.”
the air between you feels electric. you stay quiet for a moment, letting the confession settle, before whispering, “and what exactly did you imagine doing with me on stream?”
jake’s breath catches. he shifts closer, one hand gently resting on your knee.
“everything,” he says honestly. “i imagined you sitting between my legs while i played with you on camera. imagined eating you out until you’re shaking and trying not to moan too loud. imagined you riding me while thousands of people watch how pretty you look taking my cock.”
his hand slides higher up your thigh, thumb stroking your skin.
“i know this is a lot,” he says softly. “and you can say no. we can pretend i never said anything and just stay best friends. but… i’ve wanted you for so long. and after last night, i couldn’t keep pretending anymore.”
you look at him for a long moment, then slowly climb into his lap, straddling him. jake’s eyes widen, hands automatically settling on your waist.
“i’ve watched your streams,” you confess quietly, finally letting it out. “for months. i knew it was you.”
jake groans, head falling back against the couch. “fuck… you’ve been watching me?”
you nod, rolling your hips once against him, feeling how hard he already is. “i touch myself while watching you sometimes.”
that seems to break something in him. jake pulls you down into a deep, hungry kiss, hands sliding under your hoodie to grip your bare waist. the kiss is messy and desperate, all the years of hidden tension finally spilling out.
“bedroom,” he mumbles against your lips. “now.”
he carries you there without breaking the kiss, kicking the door shut behind him. clothes come off in a rush — your hoodie, his shirt, your shorts. when you’re both in just your underwear, jake pushes you gently onto the bed and crawls over you.
“been dreaming about this,” he whispers, kissing down your neck. “my shy little best friend secretly watching me jerk off every night…”
he pulls your panties down and spreads your legs, groaning at how wet you are. “all this for me?”
before you can answer, his mouth is on you — tongue licking broad stripes up your pussy, sucking gently on your clit. you moan loudly, fingers threading through his hair. jake eats you out like he’s starving, moaning into your heat, hips grinding against the mattress.
“taste so fucking good,” he groans, sliding two fingers inside you while his tongue works your clit. “gonna make you cum on my tongue first.”
you do — hard and fast, thighs shaking around his head as you cry out his name. jake doesn’t stop until you’re whimpering from sensitivity, then he finally pulls back, lips shiny with your arousal.
you push him onto his back and tug his boxers down. his cock springs free, hard and leaking. you wrap your hand around him and start stroking slowly.
“i’ve watched you do this so many times,” you whisper, leaning down to lick the tip. “always wanted to be the one touching you.”
jake’s head falls back with a loud moan. “fuck, baby… your mouth feels even better than i imagined.”
you take him deeper, sucking and stroking until he’s panting and gripping your hair. he eventually pulls you off and flips you over, settling between your legs.
“need to be inside you,” he breathes, rubbing his cock against your soaked folds. “can i? please?”
“yes,” you moan, wrapping your legs around him. “want you so bad, jake.”
he pushes in slowly, both of you groaning at the stretch. once he bottoms out, he stays still for a moment, forehead pressed to yours.
“you feel perfect,” he whispers, kissing you softly. then his hips start moving — deep, steady thrusts that quickly turn rougher.
“been wanting this pussy for so long,” he groans, pounding into you harder. “my best friend’s tight little cunt… fuck, you’re squeezing me so good.”
you’re both loud and desperate, hands roaming everywhere, mouths crashing together between moans. jake fucks you like he’s making up for lost time — deep, passionate, and a little filthy.
“gonna cum inside you,” he pants, thumb rubbing your clit. “you want that? want your best friend to fill you up?”
you nod frantically, nails digging into his back. “yes— please, jake. cum inside me.”
he thrusts a few more times before burying himself deep, moaning your name as he spills inside you. the feeling pushes you over the edge again, clenching around him as you cum together.
afterwards, jake collapses on top of you, both of you breathing hard and sweaty. he peppers soft kisses across your face, suddenly gentle again.
“that was… insane,” he laughs breathlessly. “best night of my life.”
you smile, running your fingers through his damp hair. “so… about that collab you mentioned on stream?”
jake lifts his head, eyes sparkling with excitement and a hint of shyness.
“only if you want to,” he says softly. “no pressure. but fuck… the thought of having you on stream with me? i think i’d die happy.”
you kiss him slowly, already feeling him twitch inside you again.
“maybe next week,” you whisper against his lips. “but for now… i want you all to myself for a while.”
jake grins, rolling his hips lazily. “that sounds perfect to me, baby.”
the two of you spend the rest of the night tangled together — talking, laughing, fucking again and again until you’re both exhausted and happy.
your friendship had always been special.
now it's something even better.
-------
the week after that night is a complete blur of sex, affection, and nervous excitement.
the next morning you wake up in jake’s bed with his face buried between your thighs. he eats you out until you're shaking, then fucks you slow and deep while whispering how he can’t believe this is real. you spend most of that sunday naked, ordering takeout and christening every surface in his apartment.
by monday you're both back to your regular lives, but everything feels different. jake texts you during his schedules with the filthiest messages, telling you how hard he is thinking about you. you send him photos of your panties soaked through, making him suffer through dance practice.
on tuesday night he shows up at your place after a late rehearsal, pushes you against the wall, and fucks you right there in the hallway without even taking all your clothes off. wednesday you ride him on his gaming chair while he tries (and fails) to play a game. thursday he spends almost two hours between your legs, edging you until you're crying and begging before finally letting you cum.
the sexual tension is insane, but so is the sweetness. he still brings you coffee, still send you memes, still calls you “cutie” in that soft voice. the only difference now is that he can kiss you whenever he wants to, and he takes full advantage of it.
by friday, the collab stream is set.
you are nervous the entire day. jake keeps reassuring you, holding your hand and kissing your forehead while you both get ready.
“we don’t have to show your face if you don’t want to,” he says gently, sitting on the edge of his bed. “we can use the angle where it’s mostly your body, or you can wear a mask. whatever makes you comfortable, baby.”
you decide on a cute black mask that covers the top half of your face and agree that he won’t say your real name.
and that night, at exactly 11pm, jake starts the stream.
the chat immediately explodes when viewers see two people on the bed.
jake is sitting against the headboard, shirtless, wearing only gray sweatpants. you are straddling his lap, wearing one of his oversized hoodies and nothing underneath. your face is partially hidden by the mask, but your body is fully on display.
“hey everyone,” jake greets, voice already a little husky as he wraps his arms around your waist. “i finally convinced this pretty girl to join me. say hi, baby.”
you wave shyly at the camera, cheeks burning. the chat goes absolutely feral.
chat:
“OH MY GOD SHE’S HERE”
“she’s so pretty wtf”
“jake you lucky bastard”
“please ruin her”
jake laughs, hands sliding under the hoodie to squeeze your ass. “she’s nervous, so be nice to her, okay? she’s my best friend… and now my girlfriend.”
he tilts his head up and kisses you softly at first, then deeper. you melt into it, hands resting on his bare shoulders. the kiss quickly turns heated. jake pulls the hoodie over your head, revealing your naked body to thousands of people.
“fuck, look at her,” he groans, hands cupping your breasts. “isn’t she perfect?”
he leans down and takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently while his fingers play with the other. you moan softly, hips grinding down against the bulge in his sweatpants.
“i've been waiting all week to have her like this on stream,” jake murmurs against your skin. he looks straight at the camera. “you guys have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.”
he flips you onto your back and spreads your legs wide, showing the camera how wet you already are. “look at this pretty pussy. she gets so soaked for me.”
jake eats you out like he's starving, moaning loudly into your cunt while his tongue works your clit and two fingers curl inside you. your moans are muffled by the mask, but still loud enough for the mic to pick up. your thighs shake around his head as you come hard, back arching off the bed.
“good girl,” jake praises, kissing your inner thighs. “think you can take my cock now?”
you nod desperately. he pushes his sweatpants down and rubs his hard cock against your folds before slowly sinking into you. the chat spams heart and fire emojis as he bottoms out with a deep groan.
“so fucking tight,” he breathes, starting to thrust. “this pussy was made for me.”
he fucks you in missionary first, deep and steady, then flips you onto all fours so the camera can see everything. the sound of skin slapping and your muffled moans fill the room. jake grips your hips hard, pounding into you while praising you nonstop.
“such a good girl letting everyone watch me fuck you,” he groans. “taking my cock so well on your first stream, baby. i’m so proud of you.”
you come again, clenching around him so hard he almost follows. jake pulls out at the last second and flips you onto your back again.
“want them to see me fill you up,” he pants, pushing back inside. his thrusts grow faster and sloppier. “gonna creampie my best friend on camera. you want that?”
“yes— please, jake,” you moan, legs wrapped tightly around him.
he comes with a loud, broken moan, burying himself deep as he pumps you full of cum. he keeps thrusting through it, pushing his load deeper while some of it leaks out around his cock.
after he pulls out, jake spreads your legs for the camera, showing the creamy mess dripping from your pussy.
“look what i did to her,” he says proudly, voice hoarse. he pushes two fingers inside you, fucking his cum back in. “so fucking pretty.”
you're still trembling when he ends the stream after proper aftercare on camera — gentle kisses, soft praises, and wiping you down carefully.
the second the stream turns off, jake pulls your mask off and kisses you deeply, holding you close.
“you were incredible,” he whispers against your lips. “so perfect. i’m so in love with you.”
you smile, exhausted but glowing. “i can’t believe we just did that.”
jake laughs softly and pulls the covers over both of you. “and we’re definitely doing it again. but for now… just you and me. no camera.”
he spends the rest of the night cuddling you, feeding you snacks, and whispering how happy he is that his best friend is now his everything.
your secret is out.
your friendship has evolved.
and the viewers are already begging for the next stream.
→ your boyfriend's the best thing that's ever happened to you, and everyone in a fifty foot radius is aware of that fact. if you're around, then sunoo definitely is too, like the first people you search for in a room are always each other. he lights up your world in a way nobody else does, and anyone who knows the two of you is extremely sure that you're one of those couples who will always stay together.
but when sunoo breaks up with you out of the blue and moves away for better opportunities, no one's able to accept the reason behind it. there's rumours, conversations, and even anger from a few close friends—because no one saw it coming.
but what they don't know, is that in the midst of all the speculation, they got one thing right.
that no matter what, you will always go back to sunoo.
pairing: kim sunoo x ex-girlfriend!f!reader + sim jaeyun & best friend!f!reader
warning(s): MAJOR CHARACTER DEATHS, ANGST TOWARDS THE MIDDLE AND THE END, i mean it when i say that there's angst. themes of grief, death, and mourning. descriptions of the passing of a beloved pet and humane home euthanasia. themes of lost friendships, mentions of terminal illnesses, and hospital procedures. heavy allusions to suicide. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO ANY OF THE ABOVE MENTIONED TOPICS.
playlist: i wanna be yours 𖦹 arctic monkeys / dover beach 𖦹 baby queen / hailey 𖦹 justin bieber / rocketman 𖦹 sara james / come over 𖦹 bts / mortal 𖦹 enhypen / back to you 𖦹 selena gomez
asher's annotations: spent some time reflecting on some of the hardest times in my life, and this was the end result of it all. while nothing in this fic is based off of real life except for a few handful of elements, it is a very personal and dear thing to me, because of all the emotion i poured into writing this.
you may relate to some elements of this fic, or you may absolutely not, but at the end of the day, all i want to remind you is that it will always get better.
i hope you can enjoy reading this, or at the very least feel the emotions that i wanted to convey through my writing. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated <3
inspired by the song, “back to you” from the netflix series, 13 Reasons Why.
YOU NOTICED THAT IT ALWAYS STARTED WITH A SMALL THING. Sunoo was the kind of person who wore his heart on his sleeve, even when he tried to be discreet and subtle about what he felt. His face spoke more than his mouth ever would, and his eyes—those pretty, gentle brown eyes—always seemed to hold a depth beyond what words could convey.
Jake noticed it, too. In fact, he noticed it almost often enough that he felt the need to tease you about it every time you sat down next to him for Mr Accetta's physics class on Thursday morning, his shoulder brushing yours as he grinned mischievously, eyes twinkling with mirth and great amusement behind the lenses of his glasses.
“You know,” he hums, doodling stars and what you assume to be a mangled “artistic” sketch of Layla, his dog, in the corners of his notebook with a very pink, glittering ink pen. “I kept count again, and I am pleased to inform you that I have got updated stats for the week.”
“Jake, don't start,” you groan, keeping your voice hushed so that old Mr Accetta doesn't catch the two of you talking in his class. The old Italian man was a great teacher and a bit of a gentle giant, but had little to no tolerance for whispered conversations during his lectures, a lesson you'd learnt the hard way during the first month of the freshman year of high school. “If Mr Accetta catches us, we're both going to be salami.”
“As if he'd say anything to me,” Jake rolls his eyes, pushing his glasses higher back up his nose. “I'm his favourite student. He'll automatically give you an excuse because it's me.”
“Narcissistic prick.” You kick his leg underneath the table, and he winces in pain. Shooting you a quick look of offense, he kicks your calf with the heel of his shoe in retaliation. “It's the truth,” he hisses through his teeth, rubbing the sore spot on his leg. “If you want to be spared from his lectures, then get better at physics. At least that way I don't have to tutor you every weekend.”
“I do well enough in physics,” you counter, quieting as Mr Accetta passes by your row. Jake snorts under his breath, tapping his pen against his notes with a look that screams ‘Really? YOU?’ and you barely resist the urge to smack the sophomore. “That's because I tutor you,” he pushes your elbow off the desk, “and you should be grateful I do, because I certainly do not enjoy thirdwheeling you and Sunoo the entire time.”
Your ears burn hot at his words. You promptly ignore them, and level a light glare at Jake. “You don't have to tutor me when he's around, then.” He tuts, shaking his finger. “Where's the fun in that? I'll miss my dose of weekly entertainment watching you squirm under Sunoo's gaze the entire time, then.” He dodges your attempt at whacking his head. “Seriously, you're both so in love, it sickens me. It's like no matter where you go, or how far apart the two of you are, you'll always go back to him.”
“Do you find a particular joy in my suffering, Sim?” You grumble, scribbling in the ‘X’ for your turn in the fifth game of Noughts and Crosses that started fifteen minutes into the class. “You're absolutely correct,” Jake sketches in the ‘O’ for his turn, leaning back in his seat with a pleased hum as he draws a line to win the game, three in a row. “And by the way, you'd actually suffer much less if you took my advice to heart and confessed to him.”
“He doesn't like me that way,” you mutter, cheering softly under your breath as you get your second win with an ‘O’ scribbled into the center of the new grid. Jake looks at you like you're absolutely dumb for saying that out loud, his pen hovering over the paper. “He looks at you like you've descended from heaven very specifically for him. Anytime you're both around in the same room, the first people you look for are each other. Don't give me that bullshit, alright?”
Before you can answer him, Mr Accetta's loud voice booms through the classroom, pointed towards the two of you. “What's the formula to calculate the escape velocity for an object leaving earth, keeping in mind surface gravity?” Thankfully, Jake's mildly ruthless style of tutoring has prepared you for surprise questions, and the formula slips past your lips as quickly as it can. “Square root of 2gr.”
Mr Accetta gives you a pleased nod, questioning Jake next, who answers the question with a calm, casual, and languid ease, the kind that comes when you're extremely sure about what you're doing. It infuriates and amuses you at the same time, because there's something so special about your best friend that is so dearly, incredibly endearing, for a lack of better term.
Jake turns back to you, a smug grin on his face. “Guess you really did listen to my tutoring instead of staring longingly at Sunoo's face the entire time.” You promptly stomp his foot. He jerks his leg high enough to knock his knee into the desk, screaming silently at the pain. The rest of the class turns your way at the sound, but when they don't find anything worth their time and interest, they turn away.
Glaring at you, he wipes the tears forming at the corner of his eyes with one hand, the other still cradling his sore knee. Settling back into his seat, he flips you off, before returning his attention to Mr Accetta once more.
You smile at the sight, turning back to the board. Your notes are a mess, streaks of pink glitter from Jake's pen still dusting the edges of your pages. You'll steal his later, and while he'll complain and whine about it, his hand will still be the one holding the book out for you to take.
The tips of your ears still burn, and your pulse still thrums like the strings and chords of a well-loved guitar under your skin.
Of course, it always started with the small things.
Sunoo is the sun personified, you decide, on a Thursday afternoon.
But it's not just any Thursday afternoon. The sun warms the pavement with gentle rays, and the sky is so blue and the clouds so fluffy and white, you'd think it was a scene pulled from a Ghibli animation. The roar of the sea is quieter at this point of time, but the salty, humid air of a seaside summer still clings to your skin.
There are a few birds chirping, their calls as sweet as the scent of the hibiscus that lingers in the passing wind, joining the gentle sway of the bougainvillea vine that's ever-so-sneakily creeped over the railings of the outdoor balcony, as the humming and chattering in the background quieten to a soft hush.
Everything about this day is perfect.
And really, why wouldn't it be? Because sitting across from you is Kim Sunoo, blond hair shining like strands of gold against the dancing rays of sunlight that filter through tiny gaps in the restaurant's terracotta tiled roof.
He's resting his head on his hand, browsing through the menu. As if feeling the weight of your lingering stare, he raises his head and catches your gaze. The corners of his eyes crinkle, almost disappearing, as his lips curve into the gentlest and softest of smiles. “Am I really that interesting?” He teases, but the hand that was holding the menu earlier is already making its way across the table, before it finds your own. “I doubt anything about me begs this great of a level of detailed attention. Most people aren't this attentive to me.”
His fingers thread with yours. Your pulse nearly stutters to a halt. Your ears burn with heat.
Still, you squeeze his hand.
“You're interesting to me.”
Sunoo blinks at that, as if he hadn't expected the answer. Perhaps he'd expected a joke, a deflection, or maybe even embarrassed avoidance—but not whatever… this was. A confession? An admission? Simply a statement? Or was it a fact? You're not sure what to call it yourself.
But something about your words—quietly spoken into the wind, with no hesitation behind them—must've clicked with him, because his expression softens some more, warmth seeping like dripping honey into the brown of his irises. His thumb rubs circles over the backs of your knuckles, before he lifts your hand to his mouth to press a gentle, reverent kiss against them.
The touch is fleeting—barely lasting a fraction of a second—but the featherlight press of his lips against your skin speaks to you more than a thousand words ever could. His eyes fall shut, even as he turns your hand over to kiss your palm, before finally leaving a last one on the inside of your wrist, this one lingering longer than the other two.
His hand still holds onto yours, the warmth of his body seeping through yours. Your skin still tingles in the places his lips had been to, but the shiver that trails down your spine is a pleasant one. When he opens his eyes once more, Sunoo smiles when he meets your own.
Your pulse quickens again.
But this time, it's because Sunoo's the one holding the guitar of your heart, thrumming the strings along to his whims, as he hums a melody of his own. You follow it without question, heartbeat spiking and dipping with the notes he's set in place for you.
Strangely, you don't mind it. If having him meant that you'd have to place your heart in his hands, you know that you'd do it without hesitation.
The reasoning behind it is simple.
Because this is the same young boy who cried over a fallen flower back when you were anything but tiny little kids all those years ago because he thought the plant would die. Because you know if you handed it to him, he'd cradle it with the greatest of care.
Because it's Sunoo.
And that's enough for you.
The chill of the swimming pool shocks you to your bones.
When you surface back up, clothes and hair clinging tightly to your skin, the perpetrators behind the “crime” of pushing you into the water grin down at you, blocking the sun from you with their shadows.
Jake and Sunoo sport matching, mischievous grins—the kind that tell you that they didn't have an ounce of regret about what they've just done. It's also the kind of grin that just makes you want to get back at them, because the way they look is so endearingly annoying.
Like a pair of cats who got the cream and licked it clean with zero remorse.
The corners of your mouth twitch upward.
Sunoo is the one who spots it first, because of course he's the one who notices everything about you first. Jake sees it a second later, but it's still a second far too late, because you're already leaping over the coping, water dripping onto the concrete as you grab both of them by their ankles and drag them in with a loud splash.
When you surface again, Sunoo and Jake are on either side of you, staring back at you with equal, identical looks of offense, like they couldn't believe what you'd just done. You hold their gazes for a moment longer, wet hair plastered to your forehead, the water rippling gently around the three of you.
Then, Sunoo laughs.
It's not one of those loud, full-bellied laughs, but it is one of those tiny, hushed ones that only come out when the two of you are up at 3 AM, trying not to laugh too hard at the videos you're watching because one of you couldn't fall asleep, the laughter being more snickers than giggles because you don't want to disturb the neighbours.
Jake joins in right after, his shoulders shaking as he giggles, leaning against the pool’s wall for support. Your own chuckles meld into the harmony of theirs, slipping in like a warm blanket on a rainy day.
Sunoo swims over to you, his sleek figure cutting through the water in clean waves, and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his body. “Had your fun, huh?” He tries his hardest to pretend to be annoyed, even frowning a little, but his eyes—oh, those pretty brown eyes—immediately give him away.
Not because they're crinkling at the corners the way they do when he smiles.
No, it's because of something else entirely.
It's because they look at you with such fondness it hurts.
Like you're the only thing he sees, in between the chaos of the pool party at Jay's. Over Riki's screaming and shrieking, over the sound of Sunghoon and Jay calling for him to be careful, over Heeseung's loud yells of glee as he sprays Jungwon and Riki with a water gun while Jake eggs him on.
He looks at you like you're his past, present, and his future—and he seems so sure of it all, that it leaves you breathless. The world slows down to a stop, the sun aligning just enough to create a little halo behind his head, the blond strands shining so beautifully—and the noise around you quietens to only the sound of your heartbeat thudding loudly in your ears.
“Yeah,” you rasp out, the air in your lungs still having trouble on the way out, smiling at him. “What are you going to do about it, hm?”
He mirrors your expression, his grin slowly widening as he takes you in. “Nothing much,” he hums, a hand coming up from your waist to cup the back of your neck. “Just a little punishment, nothing else.”
“And,” you lick your lips just a little, and his eyes follow the small movement for the slightest of seconds, before they flicker back to yours, “what might this little… punishment be?”
Your eyes never leave his, and neither do his break away from you.
“Just this,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours, as both his hands come to cradle your face properly, “and nothing else.”
Then, his lips are on yours, as he pours in everything he feels into the kiss.
His hands are still cold from the pool, but they slowly warm up as the heat from your skin seeps into his own. His thumb rubs circles on the apple of your cheek, while his other one tangles itself into your hair as he deepens the kiss. A sweet, syrupy sort of warmth spreads through your veins, and you welcome it wholeheartedly.
It burns and sizzles through the traces of everything else, until there's nothing else left in this world but the two of you.
At least until Jungwon interrupts.
“Oi, lovebirds!” He giggles, and now having wrestled the water gun away from Heeseung, he turns it on the two of you. “Get a room, or get soaked!”
Sunoo breaks away with a small scream from the coldness of the water, but his arm remains firmly wrapped around your waist, even as he playfully glares at the younger boy. “Oh, Yang Jungwon, you're so dead.”
Jungwon runs around the poolside deck as Sunoo finally lets go of you to chase after him, their feet leaving wet footprints all over the wood. Riki and Sunghoon swoop in to “help,” while Heeseung, Jay, and Jake cheer them on from where they lounge in the sun.
The laugh that bubbles out of you this time is loud and free and everything that you feel, watching all the people you cherish and love be so happy without a care. Sunoo's blond hair whips with the wind as he runs around, and your chest warms at the sight.
Yeah, there's no question about it.
You're absolutely, incorrigibly, undeniably in love with Kim Sunoo.
Jake's fingers are warm, as they brush against your nape.
Sunoo watches from nearby, with his arms crossed over his chest and a little quirk of his lips, as he leans against the old mahogany dresser in your bedroom.
“It looks good,” he finally speaks, strolling over to let his fingers brush against the smooth metal of the pendant resting on your collarbones, just as Jake steps away to sit on your bed instead. “You know my girlfriend so well, Sim.”
“Of course I do,” Jake scoffs, rolling his eyes playfully. “I've known this brat since she was but a snotty-nosed little toddler.”
You cuddle into Sunoo's side, and he presses a quick kiss to your temple, even as you stretch your leg to half-heartedly kick Jake on the shin. “I was not a snotty-nosed toddler. Are you really sure that your memory isn't failing you as we get older?”
“Oh, we're really going there now?” Jake scoffs in playful offense. “You want me to pull out the photographic evidence?” He threatens, hands already reaching for his pocket. “Your baby pictures are enough to prove my claim.”
“Why do you even have my baby pictures, you muppet?” You question, arm resting around Sunoo's waist. “Because your mum sends them to me.” He snorts, unlocking his phone.
“What?” Your offended shriek echoes around the four corners of the room. “Why is my mum sending my baby pictures to you of all people?!”
“Because she loves me,” Jake shrugs like it's only natural fact that your mother absolutely adores him (and it is, really, considering how long your family has known the Sims for), “perhaps even more than you.”
“OI!”
He laughs harder at your expression, clutching his stomach as he doubles over.
“If it helps,” Sunoo quips dryly, brushing a few strands out of your face. “Your mother sends them to me regularly as well.”
“It does not help!” You shriek, betrayed at the thought of your mother sending both your boyfriend and best friend embarrassing childhood pictures of yours.
“Well,” Sunoo shrugs casually, “at least I can say that I tried. Also, you were really cute as a kid.”
“As a kid,” Jake emphasises, pointing a pillow at you, “now she's just an obnoxious gremlin who likes to disturb my peace as soon as she gets a day off from her job.”
Your boyfriend chuckles, raising a brow in jest. “That I can't deny,” he hums, his fingers brushing along your arm. “But I must confess that I greatly enjoy the fact that she always wants to spend time together.”
You roll your eyes, but still kiss his cheek. Jake pretends to gag at the sight, clutching his chest. “Ugh, get a room! Leave! Shoo!”
You throw his empty can of Monster Ultra resting on your vanity at his head.
“You're in my room, you donkey! If anyone should be leaving, it's you!”
“Ugh, she's kicking me out already!” Jake's half-running, half-giggling as he makes his way out of your bedroom, before turning back to face both Sunoo and you in the doorway. “Thanks for keeping her out of my hands, Kim! See you!" he sings out, waving at your boyfriend.
Then he's off, slamming the door shut behind him just as you throw a pillow in his direction.
Sunoo laughs, his other arm wrapping around you as well to trap you in his embrace, his chest warm against your back even through the fabric of your shirt. “Well, he's not wrong. I'm more than happy to keep you to myself.”
Your hands come to rest on top of his, as the two of you sway in your bedroom to an invisible melody. “Good thing I wanna stay with you, then?”
“Yeah,” he whispers, eyes meeting yours in the mirror of your vanity. “Saves me the hassle of convincing you to stay.”
“Lucky you.” Your reflection sports a wide smile, the two little koi fishes (the one you'd taken to nicknaming as Sunoo and Jake in your head) on your pendant glinting in the evening sunrays.
“Mhm,” he hums, kissing your neck affectionately. “Lucky me, indeed.”
Lucky you, indeed. Ordinary days aren't so bad if they're spent with him.
Butterscotch seems to like cuddling Sunoo far more than you these days.
You stare at the cat sitting in your boyfriend's lap, curled up into a mangled little croissant of a ginger cat over his thighs, purring so loud that you can feel it in your bones.
“Butter,” you poke his little whiskered cheek, as Sunoo huffs in amusement at the sight. “You've always been a mama's boy. Why are you sticking to the spare human all of a sudden?”
That draws a snort from Sunoo, his hand reaching out to smooth over the few tufts of unruly fur sticking out from Butterscotch's fluffy coat. “Is that what I'm relegated to now? Not even ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’?”
You stick your tongue out at him, poking Sunoo's cheek. “Yes, you're the spare human right now, because Butterscotch hasn't cuddled with me for three days straight. He's even begun to sleep on your side of the bed!”
“Good,” he pinches your cheek in retaliation, a smug smile on his face. “At least now you'll understand what it feels like to be given only an inch of space on the bed because my girlfriend and my son are too busy cuddling with each other.”
You glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “We do not take up that much space on the bed.”
Sunoo scoffs, though the sound is more amused than sarcastic. “I'm always half a turn away from toppling to the floor.”
“You'll be fine. The floors are warm.”
“So is the bed.”
“You can survive one night on the flooring.”
“I could, but only if you don't hog all the blankets at night.”
“I do not hog the blankets!” You definitely do, and you're well aware of that fact.
“Sure, you don't. And Butterscotch doesn't scream at us for breakfast at exactly 5:50 AM on the dot.”
“Sunoo!”
“You don't have to say my name so many times, you know? You did enough of that last night.”
You punch his arm.
He laughs harder.
But so do you.
“Butter, come back to mama,” you try to coax the little orange menace into your arms, but he stubbornly remains splayed on your boyfriend, even affectionately headbutting Sunoo's chin in response to your calls.
Sunoo snickers, leaning down to let Butterscotch brush against his head, a hand coming up to support the cat. “You're asking a senior citizen to listen to you. That is foolish, no?”
“He may be fourteen, but he has perfectly functional ears,” you huff. Sunoo kisses the top of Butterscotch's head. “Yeah, perfectly functional ears that he is using at the moment to ignore you.”
You pout, and Butterscotch finally relents his onslaught of affection on Sunoo, and turns to you for a little kitty kiss that you gratefully accept. “There's my boy.”
You scratch under his chin and the orange cat purrs happily, but his tail still reaches out to wrap around Sunoo's arm. “Do you want me to be closer, Butter?”
Butterscotch only meows once at him, and Sunoo moves close enough that there's no space remaining between the two of you, his thigh brushing against yours as he wraps an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer into his side. “Is that better, cutie?”
Satisfied with the proximity that's been created, Butterscotch’s purring grows louder and he settles between you and Sunoo, an equal half splayed across the both of your laps.
“Guess we've got to abandon the rest of the day, then,” Sunoo murmurs, a finger brushing over Butterscotch's closed eyes. “His Highness wants to cuddle with us.”
The trees sway with the wind, steadily growing obscured to the vision as fog takes over. The low rumble of thunder rolls outside, before the spitter-patter of raindrops against window panes slowly grows louder.
The apartment is warm, and the coffee machine buzzes with a low hum, still trying to make Sunoo's coffee for the past half an hour. You'll have to call the company and ask for a replacement.
But that can come later.
For now, you lay your head on Sunoo's shoulder. He rests his on top of yours. Butterscotch is now asleep in your laps, dreaming of things only kitties do.
It always is the little things that matter.
Jake shows up first, a bouquet of sunflowers and white roses in hand.
“Hey,” you smile at him. “You brought Butterscotch's favourite flowers.”
He mirrors the expression, though it's more somber and subdued than usual. “Yeah,” he murmurs softly. “Needed to make sure that the little guy could smell his favourite scents. He adores them so much, after all.”
You move to the side to welcome him into the apartment, and he walks in, his footsteps soft and careful, as if afraid to disturb the quiet that had settled over your home.
Heeseung and Jungwon arrive second, carrying an old, worn out toy each. They nod in acknowledgement, light footsteps making their way into the living room. You don't follow, opting to pace by the doorway instead.
Riki, Jay, and Sunghoon show up not more than twenty minutes after, Riki's hands tightly clutched around a brand new pack of tuna treats, while there's a baby blanket slung over Sunghoon's arm. The oldest of the three hugs you tightly, his hands warm against your back.
You lean into Jay, taking in the quiet feelings that bleed through his touch.
The clock echoes twice, signalling the arrival of the second hour of the afternoon.
You finally join them to reunite with the others in the living room, where they're circled around Sunoo on the floor. He leans his head against the sofa, eyes closed as if weighed by the dark shadows under them. Exhaling softly, he huffs out a tired breath when his eyes meet yours.
You take the time to take him in.
His blond hair, so vibrant before, is a bit more dull now. He's paler from the lack of sleep, but you suppose that you don't quite fare much better than him anyways. He gives you an exhausted smile, and pats the little space next to him.
Your eyes trail down to his lap, where Butterscotch lays on a giant, fluffy pillow. Jake brings over the vase of flowers, setting it down onto the wooden floors with a soft ‘Clink!’ that rings out in the apartment far louder than it should. Butterscotch lifts his head, nose twitching as he catches the faint wisp of the flowers’ scent.
Jay holds them closer for him. The feline takes a deep whiff, then lays his head back down. Riki extends his hand to feed him his sixth treat of the hour. Butterscotch eats it anyway.
The clock in the hallway chimes again. 2:30 PM.
You make your way over to them, cuddling into Sunoo's side. He leans his head on your shoulder, hair tickling your skin, but you don't move away. His eyes remain on Butterscotch the entire time.
Sunghoon drapes the baby blanket over him, tucking the corners under the cat, so that he's bundled up in the way he loves to be held. Jungwon and Heeseung wave the toys around, and Butterscotch bats at them exactly twice. They still smile at the sight.
The clock chimes thrice. 3:00 PM.
The bell rings. Nobody moves.
Then Jay gets to his feet, shuffling over to the door. The young woman you've gotten acquainted with over the past two years as Butterscotch's vet walks in, her nose and eyes red. She says it's from the cold on the way over to the apartment.
You don't point out that it's still June.
Jungwon and Riki move to make space for her. She kneels on the floor, leaning her head down to brush her forehead against Butterscotch's head. “Hi, Butterscotch,” her voice is soft, and the feline makes a low noise in his throat, one that you can only consider to be an acknowledgement. “It's Anya. You remember me? You purred so much I couldn't hear your heartbeat the last time I saw you.”
Butterscotch's slow purring starts again, and Sunoo runs his fingers through his fur.
Nobody comments on how laboured it is.
Riki silently hands her the bag of treats. She feeds Butterscotch three instead of her usual two. Then she smoothes his fur over, pressing a kiss to his head.
Sunghoon and Jungwon gently ink both his front paws. Jake carefully presses them onto the paper, leaving behind inked impressions of his paws and toe beans.
You wipe them clean, scratching under his chin.
The rest of the entire process is quick and efficient. Anya doesn't say a word the entire time. Neither do you.
Butterscotch twitches twice, and your hand instinctively reaches out to lay on his side.
The breath you've held the entire time finally seeps out of your lungs.
Sunoo lifts the pillow, and places a kiss onto Butterscotch's head, between his ears.
Anya pulls the stethoscope away, and nods her head.
You give her a watery smile. When she leaves, a heavy silence settles over the room. There's no one speaking. No one breathes out loud.
Then, you lean down to kiss the little orange menace.
Butterscotch doesn't lift his head this time.
Six pairs of arms wrap around you, as Butterscotch lays splayed across Sunoo's and your lap. This time, he remains still.
This time, the bell on his collar doesn't jingle softly as his head rests on Sunoo's palm.
The sound of the door to your bedroom slamming open is incredibly loud and jarring.
It brings you out of your daze, and when you look up from your feet, you find a fuming Jake standing in the doorway.
His breaths are heavy and laboured, as if he'd run all the way to you. Sweat drips down his temple, dropping to his white tee. His glasses are askew, his hair is all over the place, as if the wind had mussed it up, and his flannel is disheveled, one side falling off of his shoulder, while his socks are mismatched, one navy blue and one white.
He meets your eyes, and the fury in his own grows tenfold.
“What the fuck is he doing?” He hisses, storming over to you. You flinch at the volume, and he notices, softening his voice a little, although it does nothing to hide how angry he is. “Why did Jungwon call this morning to tell me that you and Sunoo broke up because he wanted “something more”? Did I seriously hear him right?”
You don't answer him.
Actually, it's more like you don't know how to.
So you keep quiet.
“No fucking way,” Jake breathes out, dropping to his knees next to where you're sat on your bed. “Did he just wake up and leave?”
“Jake.” Your voice is soft, and Jake's heart breaks at how small you sound. “It's not what you think it is.”
“Oh, I'm pretty sure I think I know what this is,” he snarls, scowling as he fists the sheets in rage and sadness. “I told you, he was acting so fucking weird since the time Butterscotch passed. At first, I tried to pass it off as just grief and that he was in mourning, and that I shouldn't say anything because different people grieve in different ways, but then he pulled away from all of us.”
You open your mouth to answer, but Jake doesn't let you, continuing his heated rant.
“It's been a year since then! It was okay when he started getting distant and pulling away. First, he wouldn't come around often, telling us he was ‘tired’ and ‘exhausted.’ Then he started speaking less and less to us. After that, he wouldn't even pick up our calls or read our messages, like he thought himself too good for us, but seriously?! He left you behind for something “better”?! What else or who else could he find that's better than you?!”
“Jake.”
He doesn't listen, continuing to ramble, his hands spinning and twisting in the air like a physical extension of his anger.
“Jake.” You try again.
He still doesn't hear you, his ranting growing louder and louder and louder till your head begins to throb from how much you've been crying all day.
“Jake!”
He stops still at the way you scream his name, and turns to face you properly for the first time since he arrived at your apartment. “Oh,” he breathes out, his own lip quivering at the sight of your red-rimmed eyes, and the way they're puffed from the way you've been sobbing since the morning when Sunoo finally left. “I'm so sorry, bug. I really am so sorry.”
His hands wrap around you in an embrace, but you don't return it.
He holds you for a bit longer, before finally letting go, as he looks up into your eyes. “Talk to me, bug. Tell me what's on your mind.”
You lick your chapped lips, before sighing softly.
“Sunoo's gone, Jake.”
“No, he's not. I'll bring him back, and he's going to apologise to you, and then the rest of us.”
“Jake.”
“I refuse to believe he just up and went.”
“Jake.”
“Who the fuck does he think he is? Does he really think I'll just let him walk away like that, after taking so much from you? Selfish fucking bastard.”
“Jake.”
“I'm sorry I ever considered him a friend.”
“Jake!”
“What?” He glares up at you, his own eyes shining with unshed tears, both at grief for himself and for you.
“Sunoo made his decision himself. We need to respect that.”
Jake looks like he's bitten something that's bitter and sour at the same time. But he doesn't speak anymore, because the finality in your words tell him that you've already accepted this fate.
“Right. Right,” he nods. “Respect the guy who couldn't even leave us with a respectable goodbye.”
“Jake.” Your voice breaks, but it doesn't stop him from standing up. He removes his glasses to wipe away his tears, and turns to you, his face completely blank, with any and all traces of rage and sadness erased from it.
“I'll order in some dinner for you. Have that, and go to sleep early. You've got a shift in the morning tomorrow. Or take the day off. I don't really care.”
You sigh softly.
“I…” He pauses, then nods his head again. “I'm going home. Layla's been very anxious as of late.”
“Okay.” You agree. “Take care.”
“… You too.”
Then he's off once more, the sound of the door falling shut behind him echoing far too loud in your ears.
You cry some more into Sunoo's hoodie, still bearing his scent from when he'd worn it a week ago.
At least the silver lining here is that your boss likes you quite a bit.
The city truly comes alive at night.
It's been three months since Sunoo left.
Everyone else—Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, Riki—came after Jake left your apartment that Thursday. They asked the same questions that he did. “Why did Sunoo leave like that, so abruptly?”
You still told them the same thing you told Jake.
“Please respect that it was Sunoo's decision to leave.”
They seemed put off by that answer. Their expressions screamed that they wanted an answer beyond that simple, final sentence, but you didn't quite have the words nor the energy to explain everything to them.
Riki and Jungwon seemed the most affected by your easy acceptance of Sunoo's departure. They'd been the closest to him after Jake, and to see you simply tell them to leave the matter alone by framing it as Sunoo's decision, must've really hurt them. Probably hurt quite a bit too, considering the frequency of their visits to your home had slowly begun to dwindle.
First it had been the youngest two.
Then it had been Heeseung and Sunghoon. Work kept them busy, but even then, you could see through the gaps where they had begun to form.
The last one had been Jay. He'd been over one night, aware of how everyone had begun to drift away. He said nothing, but the forlorn expression on his face as he left told you enough.
Only Jake came over as often as he used to. But even his visits were shorter, dropping by to check up on you, before he left. Layla had been steadily growing more anxious over the last few months, and he'd also got himself a girlfriend.
You'd met her once, when Jake invited you out to eat, after you'd spent one too many weekends staying at home. She was pretty, but she was also sweet and kind—the kind that was perfect for Jake.
You smile at the thought of her. At least Jake has someone to take care of him now.
The air seemed especially cold tonight, and you pull your scarf closer to yourself. The early September chill had begun to seep in, just as warmer jackets and scarves had begun to make their yearly reappearances once more.
The street buzzes around you, lamp posts diffusing golden light over the pathways. Golden, you pause under one, looking up at the sky where a single, lonely star twinkles by itself. Just like him and his hair.
Everything about tonight seemed to be connected to Sunoo.
You pass by the fourth corner of the seventh street, where stands a giant billboard with an advertisement for his favourite brand of soda.
Then comes the park, with a couple laughing and spending time with each other in the swings. 1 AM. Two cans of vanilla flavoured soda resting against the metal poles of the swings.
You continue to walk.
The animal shelter by the lakefront appears. It's still operating, low hums of the generator melding with the soft meows and yips of its residents, cut by the gentle human voices that speak to them. Pink carrier. He'd been the one to pick it out. A very grumpy, old, and annoyed orange cat meowing—actually, howling—in your backseat the entire time you drove back to your apartment.
You flit past the entrance.
The grocery store at the second avenue. The neon signs have been replaced by something that's easier to read. LEDs, perhaps. You're not sure. Midnight grocery runs. You were never really sure about whether you wanted the strawberry chews or the lemon ones, so he'd put both in, sneaking in a bag of mint chocolate too. You always looked away at the cashier's counter.
Your feet remain in continuous motion.
The café on the third exit of the roundabout. The decor is finally more tasteful now, the horrendously large lights replaced in favour of softer, warmer lanterns. He always said that his eyes hurt, even when he sat in the booth farthest from the lights. Still, he came back—and forced you to come with him—every time because he adored their brownies.
The barista flips the sign to ‘CLOSED’ just as you walk past the door.
The florist tucked away in the third alley. You've never really been here. It's just on the way during an easier shortcut on the way back home. They usually display their flowers in the windowfront. Sunflowers, daisies, orchids, dahlias. Tonight, it's roses.
More specifically, white roses.
Your feet come to a halt by the storefront.
Your reflection stares back at you. He'd tucked the delicate bouquet of white roses into your lap the moment you got into his car. “It's a Thursday, and what kind of person even brings white roses to a first date?” He'd smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. “The kind that takes his date to a restaurant by the sea for a first date.” You smiled back.
The florist peeks her head out of the door, tapping your shoulder. You blink, turning to look at her. She's probably not older than nineteen, that youthful flush still colouring her skin. She gives you a shy smile, pointing to the flowers. “Would you like a few?”
You stare at her for a few minutes.
Then, you smile. “Sure. Make it pretty, please.”
She gives you a pleased smile, and ushers you inside from the cold.
Looking at her deft fingers carefully arrange the bouquet to your liking, your chest warms, the metal of the little pendant with the koi fish warming with your skin. You pay and thank her, heading back outside, the scent of roses clinging to your skin now.
The air is colder, and your scarf comes loose by just a bit. The streetlamps still shine golden. You look up at the sky, which has grown cloudier now.
But now, a second star shines besides the first one. Its glow is dimmer than its counterpart, more silver than gold, but it still shines through the clouds.
You smile at the sight, clutching the bouquet closer.
Yes, Sunoo had made his decision.
It was now time to make yours.
The phone in your palm rings once, twice, thrice.
“Hello?” Jake picks up on the fourth ring. Layla's excited yips mix with the soft coos of his girlfriend in the background.
Your smile grows wider at the sound.
“Hey,” you greet. “Where are you?”
“At home, why?” His voice crackles through the speakers. “Layla's finally a bit calmer now, so my girlfriend and I thought it'd be a good idea to have a date night.”
“That's good. Enjoy your time. Tell her that I said hi.” You hum softly.
“I will,” his voice is soft. “But did you need something? Why'd you call?”
“Oh, it's nothing much. Just wanted to tell you that I was going on a trip.”
“A trip? Now?” You hum louder. “Yeah. Wanted to get some self-reflection in. It's been a while since I've spent time by myself.”
Jake is silent for a bit, before he answers you again. “Have fun, then. When are you leaving?”
“Probably tomorrow,” the excited lilt returns to your voice. “Will you let the others know? It's pretty late, so I'm not sure that they'll pick up my calls.”
“Sure,” Jake replies, as if it was no second matter. “I will.”
“Thanks, Jake.”
The line is silent for a bit longer. “Take care.”
“Mhm, you too. Love you, Jake.”
He's quiet once again.
“What, you don't love me anymore?”
He scoffs at your playful jab. “Yeah, I don't. Not one bit—of course I love you too, you stupid bug. How long will you be gone for?”
“A while.”
“Short or long?”
“A bit long, I think.”
He pauses, and you hear the soft clink of a mug being set on the counter, as his girlfriend whispers to him that she's going to go set the movie up.
“… Have fun, bug. I've been a bit sick of seeing your face so much, too.”
You don't answer immediately.
The amused lilt of his voice makes you smile some more.
The wind picks up its speed, and a few rose petals scatter along with it.
“Yeah, don't worry about that,” you close your eyes, as the scent of roses grows stronger with each pass of the breeze.
Jake’s laughter echoes in your ears, the sound sweet as ever. Oh, how you truly did love Sim Jaeyun.
“I do plan on not coming back any time soon.”
The ink on the pages blurs from his tears, blotting the white sheet with splotches of running pink, glittering spots.
Jake holds the pendant in his hand, though with the way his fingers tremble, it threatens to slip out of his grasp, much in the same way his life had since today morning.
The sky had been somber, and the birds didn't chirp the same way they usually did, like they were grieving something they'd lost too.
Sunoo's letters had arrived that morning. Six of them. One for each of them. Labelled with their names and addresses in shaky handwriting, but still undeniably his. To Heeseung hyung. To Jay hyung. To Jake hyung. To Sunghoon hyung. To Jungwon. To Riki.
If he was going to be honest with himself, he wasn't even going to open his. The wound that Sunoo had left behind by leaving so abruptly still stung and festered, but Layla had fetched it from the table for him when he'd set it away.
And god, he would've regretted not reading it.
The letter itself had started simple.
Sunoo asked him about his life, about his girlfriend, about Layla. He talked about the sea by the place he was staying at, how the stars shone so brightly in the sky at night. He talked about the way the mint chocolate he'd get was so bland, he missed the ones from the grocery stores back here. Typical Sunoo.
Then he spoke about how sorry he was. And Sunoo seemed sorry for a lot of things.
He said sorry for missing their hangouts. For talking less and less to them. For not giving Butterscotch more kisses when he could. For missing Layla's birthday party. For not picking up his calls. For not picking up everyone else's calls. For not replying to their messages.
But he seemed really apologetic about one thing.
He said he was really, really sorry for not telling them about the illness.
The same one that had taken his final breaths today, with a severe heart failure. The hospital had called a few hours after. Said Sunoo passed in his sleep. That he was peaceful.
And the only thing Jake could think about after that call was you.
So he'd come over to your apartment as soon as he could, only to find it empty. The apartment itself was clean, with nothing out of place.
His phone rang with messages from the others, telling him that they'd be coming over soon, too.
For a moment, he thought about searching for you. Then, he remembered that you were out on a trip.
So he decided to call, because he knew you didn't read texts very quickly.
With his phone raised to his ear, the line was ringing, lying in wait for the other side to pick up, when he saw it.
An envelope, left behind on your vanity.
He tried his hardest to ignore it, but his curiosity won over anyways. So he walked right to it, and flipped it over. There was no address on it, and he was about to put it back down, when a familiar chain slipped out of the envelope.
He sets his phone down. The voicemail with your voice still rings out.
Jake's breath hitched at the sight. He carefully peeled away the glue, opening it up… and there it was. The pendant he gave you for your birthday.
The one you never took off.
The one with the two koi fishes you'd dubbed as him and Sunoo.
His eyes stung a little.
Your letter was written with a pink glitter pen. Much like Sunoo, you too talked about the sea and the flowers at the cliffside. About the way the birds came to chirp in the morning by your window, letting you know that they wanted you to feed them.
Then you talked about the illness. How the diagnosis had come two days before Butterscotch's passing. It was advanced cardiac cancer, the doctors had said. They'd do everything to help, but the chances of recovery would be low.
About how hard it was sometimes, to see Sunoo suffer under the weight of his own failing body. About how he wanted to move away to a different place for his treatment, so that his friends wouldn't have to see wither away, even if it meant that they'd hate him for it. About how you went over to him every weekend, just to see the way that the treatment procedures at the hospital seemed to sap his energy away day by day.
You wrote about Sunoo's letters, too.
About how you had to hold Sunoo's hand to support him as he wrote his six letters, and that he'd asked for his shaky handwriting to be excused for.
Then you apologised, too. About keeping it all a secret from him, from the others. That it was Sunoo's wish to be remembered as bright as he could be, and that there was no way you couldn't let the sun shine when it wanted to.
His vision grows blurrier, the letter grows harder to read.
You knew about it all.
Had known from the start.
The pendant slips from his fingers, clattering to the vanity table, as he reaches the end of the letter.
The sound of your voice ends, as the call hangs up.
Jake holds his head in his hands. His phone buzzes once more, lighting up with another call from the hospital. He stares at it for a bit longer, letting it ring.
Finally, with agonising slowness, he picks it up.
The person on the other end introduces himself as a doctor, and tells Jake that he's sorry for his loss. He thanks him quietly, and nods along.
The sound of the front door opening reaches his ears, as five sets of rushed footsteps head in the direction of your bedroom.
Riki bursts through first, his eyes red and face flushed. Jungwon and Sunghoon follow him after, as Heeseung wraps an arm around Jungwon to steady him.
The last one to meet his eyes is Jay.
The person on the line asks him to take care of his health, and to take his time to grieve. He agrees, and finally sets the phone back down.
“Why didn't he tell us?” Riki is the first one to break, sobbing into his hands. Sunghoon helps him sit down on your bed. Jungwon looks like he's going to throw up, and Jake feels like he will too. Still, he swallow the bile, and sits up straighter on the vanity stool.
Heeseung brings two glasses of water for the two youngest, trying to coax them into drinking some. Jay, his face strangely calm, turns to Jake. But he knows better—the hollowed look in Jay's eyes is something Jake understands entirely. “Was it the hospital that called you now?”
Jake nods, as Jungwon's sobs and Riki's wails grow louder. Sunghoon and Heeseung are tearing up too, despite the fact that they're still trying to comfort the other two. Only he and Jay are the ones who haven't cried yet.
“What did they say now?” Sunghoon asks, as Jay tries to calm Jungwon down. Jake answers quietly, that it was a check up call. But before he can say anything further, Heeseung cuts in.
“Where's she?”
Jake swallows softly. “Away.”
Heeseung nods. “Did she know?”
“Yes.” Jake's voice is calm as he answers. “But Sunoo asked her to keep it a secret.”
The older three frown at that, as the meaning of what you'd meant by “respecting” Sunoo's decision clicks into place.
“We were so wrong about both of them.” Jay mutters softly, his own eyes growing red.
“No.” Jake disagrees with that, as the last part of his conversation with the doctor echoes in his mind. “No, we weren't.”
“What do you mean?” Jungwon hiccups. Heeseung frowns, breathing heavily. “Now is not the time for cryptics, Jake.”
“I know,” Jake holds up your letter for them to see. “Remember how back in high school, we always used to joke about how she and Sunoo always searched for each other first?”
He points to the last line of your letter, and Jay sobs at the sight of it.
“We got one thing right.” Heeseung scoffs, wiping his tears. Sunghoon cries into Jay's shoulder, and Jake feels his own tears fall freely down his face. He smiles sadly, and it bleeds into a sob. “Yeah, we got one thing right.”
He picks up the pendant again, and clutches it to his chest.
Today, he'll grieve.
Tomorrow, he'll have two funerals to prepare for.
He looks back down at the letter, and smiles again.
Your handwriting is still there, etched into the paper like an epitaph to a headstone, only written in pink glitter, because he knows that it's the closest thing you had lying around.
Yeah, he really did get three things right. It was always a fucking Thursday with you and Sunoo, wasn't it? He spots the bouquet of white roses in the vase on the table next to your bed, the petals just beginning to brown at the edges. And those fucking white roses. The air freshner's scent of the sea wafts around the room. And the fucking sea. It was always those three with the two of you, wasn't it? A choked laugh bubbles out of him, as his eyes finally land on the little box displaying Butterscotch's faded pink collar.
[I love all of you. I especially love you a lot, my dearest childhood friend, Sim Jaeyun.]
The way the two of you are so in love sickens him so much.
[But I've already made my choice.]
Because no matter where either of you go….
[And both you and I know that there's nowhere else I'd be, other than his side.]
LETTER CONTENTS seven different creators, seven different ways love bloom — in which being mutuals with your favourite content creator was supposed to be simple, until the cameras start capturing more than anyone intended.
or in which the line between content and reality begins to blur.
POSTMARK contentcreator!enha x influencer!reader ˙𐃷˙ written + smau, nonidol!enha
MUSE ot7 enhypen
HANDLE WITH CARE fluff, crack, mutual pinning, they are lowkey down bad for reader
sincerely yours, yue ─ ❤︎ (◝ ⩊ ◜) ྀི : new smau series yayyy ! i wanted to mix this one with a little bit of writing, yk test the waters..., let me know if you guys would like a fully written fic 🙃, hope you guys aren't tired of me yet !
DEMO TAPE. coverartist!heeseung starts looking for a voice he can’t quite place
BON APPÉTIT. cookingyoutuber!jay starts caring a little too much about one person’s taste
WINDOW SEAT. travelvlogger!jake keeps editing his days around someone who isn’t supposed to be in the frame
LOOPED CLIP. skating/lifevlogger!sunghoon starts realizing where content ends and where you begin
UNFILTERED. lifevlogger!sunoo keeps his feed organized while his feelings for you are not
LIKED BY CREATOR. motivationalyoutuber!jungwon becomes a victim of his own advice
FRAME BY FRAME. lifestyleyoutuber!riki keeps filming the one thats always behind the camera
You thought the worst thing that could happen after your breakup was running into your cheating ex. Then you got pregnant by JAKE SIM. Captain of the Caldwell Wolves, campus golden boy and the most notorious heartbreaker on campus. He’s the last person you’d ever trust. Unfortunately for you, he’s also the father of your baby.
𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: Delicate - Taylor Swift // Kiss Me Right - keshi // Sugar Talking - Sabrina Carpenter // It Ain’t Over ‘Till It’s Over - Lenny Kravitz // Please - BTS // striptease - carwash
𝐋’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐞: i genuinely had the best time writing this fic and getting way too emotionally attached to these characters! please feel free to leave a comment, scream or simply stare into the void thinking about these idiots (i know i will be). your support means more than you know and every notification makes me kick my feet like a Victorian lady seeing an ankle. i hope this fic made you experience at least one completely unnecessary emotion. thank you for ready and PLEASE enjoy!
The party is Mina’s idea. It always is. You’ve stopped pretending otherwise — stopped doing the thing where you spend twenty minutes debating whether you’re really feeling it before Mina gives you the look and you both know you’re going regardless.
It’s a Friday in late September, the air outside finally tipping from warm to something with a bite in it, and you’ve been in your dorm room since two in the afternoon staring at the same paragraph of Middlemarch without absorbing a single word.
“You need to get out of this room,” Mina says from your bed, where she’s been watching you not read for the past hour. She’s already dressed — black top, dark jeans, the gold hoops she only wears when she’s decided the night is going to be worth the effort. She decided before she came over. The last hour has been a courtesy. “You’ve been staring at that book like it cheated on you.”
The word lands between you, briefly. Mina’s face doesn’t change “George Eliot is a menace,” you say.
“You love George Eliot.”
“I love George Eliot when I’m not trying to produce fifteen hundred words on her narrative voice by Monday morning.” You close the book. It’s not like you’re reading it anyway.
The thing about Delta Kappa parties is that they are, by any objective measure, too much. Too loud, too hot, the bass sitting somewhere in your sternum, red cups and bodies everywhere you look. Mina thrives. You tolerate it with the specific resignation of someone who knows they’re going to have a good time despite themselves and finds this faintly irritating.
You’re on your second drink when you see Sunghoon. He’s across the room near the kitchen doorway, mid-conversation with someone you don’t recognise, laughing at something. Head tipped back the way he always did — that particular way, unhurried and a little private, like whatever amused him was his alone. You used to love that about him. You watch it for maybe three seconds before you look away, which feels like a victory of some kind.
Four months. Four months since you’d found out, since you’d sat on your dorm room floor and read a conversation thread you were never supposed to see, since everything you thought you’d built with him had turned out to be built on something rotten underneath.
Two years of your life. Your first real relationship. You’d thought it would last.
You look away. You drain the rest of your cup.
“He’s here,” Mina says, appearing at your elbow with the precision of someone who has been watching.
“I know.”
“Do you want to leave?”
“No.” You mean it. “I’m not leaving a party because of Sunghoon Park.”
She studies you for a moment with that particular look — the one that measures the difference between actually fine and performing fine with uncomfortable accuracy. Whatever she finds seems to satisfy her, because she clinks her cup against yours and says, “Then let’s get another drink.”
You’re at the makeshift bar — someone’s kitchen counter pressed into service — when you become aware of someone standing beside you. Not waiting for the bottle. Something else. A specific quality of attention that you register before you’ve consciously clocked it. You look up. Jake Sim looks back.
You know who he is the way you know most things about the people who exist in Caldwell’s uppermost stratum — passively, through cultural osmosis, without ever having chosen to learn. Captain of the Wolves. Dean’s son. The name that comes up in a specific tone of voice, like a warning dressed as gossip.
Up close he is, unfortunately, exactly as good-looking as that reputation implies. Tall, built through the shoulders and chest in the way that years of hockey builds — not showy, just solid, like his body was designed to take up space and does so without apology. Dark eyes. A jaw that should probably be illegal. A mouth curved at the corner like he’s already three steps ahead of the conversation and finds this mildly entertaining.
“You’re doing maths,” he says.
You blink. “What?”
“Your face.” He nods at you, vaguely. “Very intense for someone just standing at a bar.”
“I’m making a drink.”
“You’ve been staring at that vodka for forty-five seconds.”
“I didn’t realise I was being timed.”
“You weren’t.” He reaches past you for the bottle — close enough that you catch something clean and faintly expensive — pours his own cup, sets it back.
“I’m Jake.”
“I know who you are.” Something moves through his expression. Amusement, maybe, or the specific satisfaction of a fact confirmed.
“Most people do,” he says, and there’s no arrogance in it, just a statement of observable reality, which is somehow worse. “And you’re—”
“Also a person,” you say.
That gets a real smile. Brief, but actual. “Fair enough.”
You should find Mina. You’re aware of this the way you’re aware of the coursework due Monday and the fact that it’s past midnight — true, noted, irrelevant. Instead you stay where you are and let the conversation go where it goes, and it goes somewhere you didn’t expect.
He’s good at this. That’s the thing you clock first and keep clocking — the way he makes conversation feel like it has momentum, like you’re building toward something together, the timing of his humour landing slightly off-beat in a way that catches you. He asks questions and actually listens to the answers. You know it’s a formula. You know it has worked on an uncountable number of girls at an uncountable number of parties exactly like this one, and knowing that should make you immune to it, and it doesn’t.
Mina finds you at some point, clocks the situation in under a second, raises her eyebrows precisely two millimetres — a full paragraph in two millimetres — and disappears back into the crowd.
At some point his hand finds the small of your back. Light. Questioning. You don’t move away from it. At some point, close enough that you feel the words more than hear them, he says: “We could get out of here.”
You think about Middlemarch, which you’re not going to read tonight regardless. You think about the two years you spent being someone’s person and the four months since that have felt like learning to walk in a body that’s been subtly rearranged. You think about Sunghoon somewhere in this house with his head tipped back, laughing.
“Okay,” you say.
His room is in the east block upperclassmen housing — a single, because of course, because Jake Sim has probably never had to negotiate space with anyone in his life. It’s tidier than you’d have guessed. You file this away without meaning to, the way you’re still filing things even now, even when you’ve told yourself you’re not doing that anymore.
He closes the door and you’re already turning toward him and then his mouth is on yours and it’s nothing like how he acted downstairs — no charm, no ease, just heat and intent, his hands gripping your face and kissing you like he’s already decided exactly how this goes.
You grab his shirt and walk him backwards and he turns you instead, smooth and immediate, your back hitting the wall beside the door hard enough to knock the breath out of you and you don’t care, you’re already pulling at his shirt and he’s already got your top halfway up your body.
He strips it off you and his mouth drops straight to your throat, open and hot, and then your bra is unclasped and gone before you’ve fully registered his hands at the back of it.
Then his mouth is on your tits and he makes a sound low in his chest like the sight of them was specifically designed to ruin him. His hands cup them, squeezing, thumbs dragging slow over your nipples and watching your face while he does it. You feel your cheeks go hot because his expression is entirely too focused, too attentive, like he’s cataloguing your reactions and filing it away for later use.
He bends his head and takes one nipple into his mouth, tongue working in slow wet circles. Your head drops back against the wall on a moan you didn’t mean to let out that loud.
“Yeah,” he says against your skin, rough and pleased, “get loud,” and bites down lightly you gasp and your nails find his shoulders through his shirt.
He marks you up like he has all the time in the world — mouth dragging from your tits to your throat to your collarbone and back again, teeth and tongue, leaving his work on your skin with a thoroughness that should feel like too much and instead just makes you want more.
His hips grind into yours against the wall, the hard line of his cock pressed against your core through clothing, slow and deliberate, the friction makes you roll up into it and he does it again to which you make a sound that’s honestly embarrassing.
“Bed,” you manage, and he pulls back just enough to look at you — mouth-bitten, dark-eyed, satisfied with himself in a way you don’t have the capacity to be annoyed about right now — and walks you to it.
You land on the mattress and he’s over you immediately, his mouth back on your tits before you’ve stopped bouncing on the mattress, you’re pulling at his shirt until he lets you get it off him and then his jeans are gone and yours are gone and he’s settled between your thighs in just his boxers and the weight of him is — a lot, in the best way, solid and warm and pressing you into the mattress, his hips grind down slow as his cock drags against your pussy through the thin fabric of your panties, you grab his shoulders to hold onto something.
He does it again. Slower.
His mouth is still at your nipple, tongue working it stiff while his hips keep that maddening rhythm, grinding into you with enough friction to make your thighs clench around him but not enough to give you anything real, you can hear how wet you are, can feel it and judging by the way his jaw tightens he can too.
“Jake,” you say, and it comes out more desperate than you intend.
“I know,” he says, like that’s an answer, and then he’s moving down your body.
He hooks your underwear off, throws it somewhere and finally puts his mouth on your pussy. Your back comes off the mattress.
He licks into your folds slowly, taking his time, his tongue dragging from your entrance up to your clit in one long stroke and then doing it again, his hands are spread flat on your inner thighs holding you open and still and there is nothing to do but take it.
He’s good — infuriatingly good — like he’s genuinely interested in making you cum, like this is something he wants to do rather than something he’s doing to get to the next thing. You’ve got one fist in the sheets and one pressed to your own mouth to which he pulls your hand away from your face without looking up. “Don’t,” he says against your cunt, and goes back to work.
His tongue finds your clit and stays there, tight focused circles, two fingers then press at your entrance and push in slow, curling immediately, finding the spot that makes your hips jolt and working it with patience that feels almost cruel.
The sounds coming out of you are loud and continuous and undignified and he hums against you like he approves, the vibration travelling straight up your spine, and you can feel yourself getting close embarrassingly fast, your walls clenching tight around his fingers, your whole body chasing it.
“Don’t stop,” you manage, “don’t — please —“ and he doesn’t, his tongue relentless on your clit and his fingers curling deep, and you cum on his mouth with your thighs shaking, his name coming out broken and too loud for the room.
He works you through every second of it, tongue gentling, fingers slowing until you’re twitching and oversensitive and pulling at his hair to get him off you, he comes back up your body looking composed in a way that feels like a personal attack. There’s something dark and satisfied in his expression as he looks down at you and kisses you before you can say anything, slow, and you taste yourself on his tongue.
His cock is hard against your hip, straining against his boxers, you reach between you and wrap your hand around him and feel him shudder. He’s thick and heavy in your palm, already slick at the tip and when you stroke him his composure cracks — hips pushing into your grip, jaw tightening and a low rough sound forming against your mouth.
You work him slow and watch his face and feel something warm and powerful settle in your chest. “Condom,” you say.
“Yeah,” he says and reaches for the nightstand.
He pushes in slow and you feel every single inch. The stretch of him opening you up, thick and relentless, your walls giving way around his cock, you dig your nails into his back and breathe through it until he’s fully seated. You’re so full it sits somewhere between pleasure and pain and then he rolls his hips and it tips firmly into the first one.
He starts slow — deep, grinding strokes, his cock dragging against every nerve of you, the weight of his hips pinning yours into the mattress and his mouth finds your tits again immediately, like he can’t help it, tongue working your nipple while his hips keep their deep rhythm and you stop being capable of thoughts that go anywhere.
“You’re so fucking tight,” he says against your breast, low and rough, and bites down on the swell of it and soothes it with his tongue and does it again somewhere else.
“Jake—”
“I know,” he says, his thumb finds your clit. The added pressure makes you gasp and your hips jolt up to meet his and he makes a sound that isn’t quite a groan and picks up the pace.
The slow grind gives way to something sharper. His hips snap against yours and the headboard knocks the wall and the wet sounds of it fill the room. You have completely stopped caring about anything except the way his cock fills you on every stroke, deep and thick, the drag of him pulling back and driving in again setting off a chain reaction of sensation that climbs fast.
He shifts your leg up higher over his hip and the angle changes, deeper, and the sound you make at that is genuinely obscene. “Yeah?” he says, doing it again, deliberate. “There?”
“Yes,” you manage, “there, don’t stop, please—”
“Dirty when you want something,” he says, low and pleased, and fucks you harder.
His thumb circles your clit without stopping, his cock drives into your cunt again and again and his mouth marks your throat. The build crests too fast to catch — you cum for the second time harder, walls clenching rhythmically around him, his name coming out wrecked and he follows you over with his hips buried deep and his face pressed to your throat, low broken sounds against your skin as he cums.
The room goes quiet. You stare at the ceiling. Your body has been taken apart and put back together slightly differently and everything feels warm and loose and heavy.
That, you think distantly, was either the best or worst decision you’ve made in months.
Possibly both.
Jake disposes of the condom, comes back, drops onto the bed beside you. The quiet settles. It’s almost comfortable — the dark, the warmth, both of you just breathing. And then…
“You can go whenever,” he says. Flat. Casual. Already looking at the ceiling like you’re no longer the most interesting thing in the room. Like you’ve been downgraded, in the last thirty seconds, from a person to an inconvenience that’s resolved itself.
You blink. You can go whenever. Not you don’t have to rush, not do you want some water, not even basic human decency. Just — you can go. Door’s there. Thanks for coming.
Something cold moves cleanly through the warmth in your chest and extinguishes it. You sit up. “Right,” you say. Your voice comes out level. You’re proud of that.
He says nothing. He is staring at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head like a man with absolutely no awareness that he’s just been profoundly rude, or perhaps perfect awareness and total indifference, which is worse.
You find your clothes in the dark with quiet methodical efficiency — jeans, top, shoes, bra shoved into your bag because life is short. You do not look at him while you dress and he does not look at you. At the door you pause, and you genuinely don’t know why, some reflex kicking in from a life spent being polite to people who haven’t earned it.
“Bye, then,” you say.
“Mm,” says Jake Sim, at the ceiling not even at you. You want to scoff in his stupidly hot face.
You close the door behind you.
The walk back across campus takes twelve minutes and you spend all twelve of them with the cold night air doing its best against the heat in your face. Not embarrassment — or not only that. Something sharper. The specific anger of someone who knew exactly what they were walking into and walked into it anyway and is now annoyed at themselves for being annoyed.
I knew, you think, with each step. I knew what he was. Everyone knows what he is. I just—
You’d let the hour at the bar do its work. You’d let the conversation and the hand at the small of your back and the dark eyes and the unfair jaw do their work, and you’d told yourself it was fine because you were going in clear-eyed, and the sex had been — god, the sex had been amazing — but then he’d opened his mouth and reminded you exactly who he was and now here you are, at one forty in the morning, crossing the quad with your bra in your bag.
You text Mina. still up?
The reply is immediate. obviously. how was it?
You stare at your phone for a moment. come to mine, you type back.
Mina is sitting up in your bed when you get back, laptop open, a bowl of cereal balanced on her knee that she definitely made while waiting. She takes one look at your face as you come through the door and sets it on the nightstand. “Tell me.”
You drop your bag, toe off your shoes, and sit on the end of the bed. You press your fingers to your eyes for a moment. “The sex,” you say carefully, “was genuinely incredible. Like — top three of my life, Mina. Easily. Potentially top two.”
“Okay—”
“And then, the moment it was over, he looked at the ceiling and told me I could go whenever.” You drop your hands. “In the tone of someone dismissing a tradesman. Like I’d come to fix his boiler.”
Mina’s expression moves through several stages. “He did not.”
“He absolutely did.”
“What did you say?”
“I said bye then and closed the door.”
“Bye then?”
“I panicked and defaulted to manners.” You flop backwards onto the duvet. “I knew. That’s the thing. I knew exactly what he was before I ever spoke to him and I did it anyway because—” You gesture at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Because I’m tired of being careful. Because Sunghoon was across the room being beautiful and I wanted to feel something that wasn’t about him.”
Mina is quiet for a moment. Then: “Was it, at least something that wasn’t about Sunghoon.”
You consider this with the ceiling. “Yes,” you admit. “Annoyingly, yes. Right up until he opened his mouth.”
“He really is the worst,” Mina says, with the conviction of someone delivering a verdict.
“He really, genuinely is.” You stare upward. “He’s got such a good cock though, Mina. Like. I’m annoyed about it. I’m actively annoyed.”
Mina puts her face in her hands. You watch her shoulders shake. “It’s not funny,” you tell her, and then you’re laughing too, and the tight mean thing in your chest loosens by a fraction, and outside the window Caldwell goes on being loud and indifferent and fully lit up, and you are fine.
You’re fine. You’re completely fine.
The week after the party you are, by any reasonable measure, completely fine.
You turn in the Middlemarch essay on Monday morning — fifteen hundred words on narrative voice, mostly written Sunday afternoon in a single focused stretch that you attribute to having gotten something out of your system.
You go to your Tuesday seminar and your Wednesday lecture and you have coffee with Mina on Thursday at the place near the English building where they do the good almond croissants, and you do not think about Jake Sim.
Or you think about him the normal amount. The amount that is appropriate for a person you slept with once at a party and will probably never speak to again, which is to say occasionally and without weight, the way you might think about a film you watched on a plane — enjoyable in the moment, not something you’d seek out again, largely irrelevant to your actual life.
This is what you tell yourself. Mina does not challenge it, which means she’s either convinced or she’s decided to let you have it, and knowing Mina it’s the second one.
Sunghoon texts you on Wednesday. Just — hey, saw you at Delta Kappa Friday. you looked good. You stare at it for a long time. You don’t reply.
You see Jake on Monday. You’re crossing the main quad, coffee in hand, bag over one shoulder, running approximately four minutes late for your seminar, and he’s coming the other direction with Jay Park and someone you don’t recognise, all three of them in Wolves gear, clearly post-practice.
He’s laughing at something Jay said, head tilted back, and he looks — easy, and loose, and completely unbothered by anything in the known universe, which you knew, which is exactly what you expected, and yet something about seeing it in person at ten forty-three on a Monday morning makes your jaw tighten anyway.
He doesn’t see you. Or he does and gives no indication of it, which amounts to the same thing. You look straight ahead and keep walking and do not think about it for the rest of the morning.
You think about it a little bit in the afternoon. By evening you’ve filed it away under irrelevant and moved on, which is the correct and mature response and you’re proud of yourself.
The sickness starts on Wednesday morning. You wake up with your stomach doing something wrong — not dramatic, not the sharp unmistakable rebellion of food poisoning, just a low persistent nausea that sits behind your sternum like it’s made itself at home. You lie still for a moment, waiting for it to pass.
It doesn’t.
You get up, make it to the bathroom, sit on the edge of the tub for ten minutes breathing carefully, and then it eases enough that you can brush your teeth and get dressed and tell yourself you’re fine.
You’re not fine by Thursday morning.
The nausea is worse — still not acute, still this low insidious wrongness, but it’s there when you wake up and it doesn’t fully lift, and your coffee tastes like something burnt and metallic and you push it away after two sips which Mina clocks immediately from across the table at the place near the English building.
“You’re not drinking your coffee.”
“I’m not feeling it today.”
Mina looks at the cup. Looks at you. “You have never in three years of knowing you not felt like coffee.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” She watches you for a moment with that look. You look back at your laptop and don’t say anything else.
By Saturday you feel actively, genuinely terrible.
Not sick-sick — no fever, no aches, nothing you can point to as a specific illness — just this relentless creeping nausea that is worst in the morning and fades by afternoon and makes the idea of eating before eleven o’clock an abstract and unpleasant concept.
You cancel your Saturday morning coffee with Mina, which you have never done, and she’s at your door by noon with a container of crackers and a forensic expression. “Talk,” she says.
“I think I’m coming down with something.”
“What kind of something.”
“I don’t know, Mina, a virus. A bug. Something that’s going around.”
She sits down on your bed and opens the crackers and holds them out to you and you take one because the sight of them is, somehow, the most appealing thing you’ve encountered all week. You eat it slowly. Your stomach does not immediately rebel. You take another one. “How long?” Mina asks.
“Since Wednesday morning.”
“And it’s worst in the morning.”
“Yes.”
“And you can’t drink coffee.”
“It tastes wrong.” Mina is quiet for a moment. You eat another cracker and look at the wall. “I’m sure it’s just a bug,” you say.
“Yeah,” Mina says, in a tone that means something else entirely. “Probably.”
The conspiracy theories start that evening, though. It’s the two of you on your bed with Mina’s laptop open and a bag of pretzels between you, and it begins reasonably enough — you googling nausea worse in morning possible causes and working through the list with the detached efficiency of someone who is definitely not spiralling. Stress. Acid reflux. Inner ear issues. Viral gastroenteritis. Dietary changes.
“Have you eaten anything different lately?” Mina asks.
“No.”
“Stressed about something?”
“When am I not stressed about something.”
“Fair.” She scrolls. “It says here inner ear problems can cause—”
“I don’t have inner ear problems, Mina.”
Mina scrolls further. You eat a pretzel and watch her face and wait for it. You know it’s coming. You’ve known since Saturday morning, if you’re being honest, since she’d sat on your bed with that specific expression and said probably in that specific tone, and you’ve been not-thinking about it with considerable effort for the past several hours.
“Okay,” Mina says, carefully, still looking at the screen. “What if.”
“No.”
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
“You don’t have to.” You pull the laptop toward you and close the tab. “It’s been less than two weeks. It’s too early for that. It’s a bug.”
“You used a condom?”
“Obviously.”
“They’re not a hundred percent.”
“It’s a bug,” you say. “It’s a completely normal bug that normal people get and it has nothing to do with — it’s a bug.”
Mina looks at you with the expression of someone who has several more things to say and has made a strategic decision to not say them yet. “Okay,” she says. “Bug.”
By Sunday you can’t keep breakfast down. You sit on your bathroom floor at eight in the morning with your back against the tub and your forehead against your knees and you think about the party, and Jake’s room, and the nightstand, and the condom, and you think no very firmly and repeatedly and it doesn’t help at all.
You text Mina. can you come over
She’s there in seven minutes. She doesn’t say anything when you open the door, just looks at your face, and you nod back at her.
The Caldwell campus drugstore is a five minute walk from your building and has, blessedly, a single-occupancy bathroom at the back that Mina sweet-talks the Saturday cashier into letting you use on the grounds that you’re not feeling well, which is at least entirely true. It’s a very small bathroom.
The two of you fill it completely — you on the closed toilet lid, Mina with her back against the sink, the test sitting on the edge of it between you with three minutes on Mina’s phone timer counting down. Nobody says anything.
The tile is white. There’s a motivational poster on the back of the door — you’ve got this! in yellow letters — that you stare at with a feeling you can’t fully name.
Two minutes.
“It’s probably negative,” you say.
“Probably,” Mina says.
“The condom—”
“Yeah.” “And it’s been less than two weeks. Like. The timing—”
“The timing is actually about right,” Mina says, gently, “for symptoms to—”
“Stop,” you say.
One minute.
You watch the timer. The timer watches back. Your hands are completely still in your lap which surprises you — you’d have expected them to shake, but instead you feel very calm in the specific way that you get sometimes when something is about to happen and your body has decided that panic is a resource to be conserved.
The timer goes off.
Neither of you moves for a second. Then Mina picks up the test and looks at it. Her face does something — a flicker, fast and controlled, there and gone — and she hands it to you without speaking.
Two lines.
You look at it for a long time.
“Okay,” you say, finally.
“Yeah,” Mina says.
The motivational poster on the wall says you’ve got this! in yellow letters and you stare at it and think about Jake Sim telling the ceiling you can go whenever and feel something move through you that is too big and too complicated to have a name yet.
“Okay,” you say again. Like if you keep saying it, it’ll start meaning something useful.
—
You don’t go to him straight away. That feels important somehow — that you don’t just spiral out of that drugstore bathroom and make a beeline for the Hargrove Center in a panic, that you go back to your dorm first and sit with it for a while like a person with some degree of self-possession.
You and Mina order food you mostly don’t eat and sit on your bed with the test face-down on the nightstand like if you can’t see it it’s less real, and you talk around it for a while before you talk about it directly, which is its own kind of processing.
“You don’t have to decide anything today,” Mina says.
“I know.”
“You don’t have to tell him today either.”
“I know.” You pull your sleeves over your hands. “But I feel like — I don’t know. He should know. Like in or not he’s — it’s his. He should know.”
Mina is quiet for a moment. “Okay,” she says. “But eat something first.”
You eat half a portion of noodles. It’s the most you’ve managed in days and your stomach accepts it cautiously, like it’s making no promises. Then you change your top, put your shoes on, and look at Mina.
“Don’t come with me,” you say.
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. “Text me the second you’re out.”
The Hargrove Center is a twenty minute walk across campus and you use all twenty minutes to rehearse what you’re going to say, which turns out to be a complete waste of time because the moment you push through the side door and the cold air of the rink hits you — that particular sharp smell of ice and equipment — your prepared sentences evaporate entirely.
Practice is just wrapping up. You can see them from the entrance, the Wolves coming off the ice in clusters, helmets off, sticks in hand. Jay Park says something that makes Riki Nishimura laugh. Jungwon Yang is already halfway to the boards.
And Jake is — there, centre ice, still, talking to one of the assistant coaches with his helmet under his arm and his hair pushed back from his face, and even from here he looks like someone who has never had an uncontrollable variable in his life.
You wait.
You’re good at waiting. You’ve spent the last two weeks being good at things you didn’t choose to be good at.
He sees you when he comes off the ice — clocks you in the way that people clock something unexpected in a familiar space, a brief recalibration. Something moves across his face, too fast to read. Then it’s gone and he’s walking toward you with the easy unhurried stride of someone who has decided to be unbothered and you stand your ground and wait for him to reach you.
“Hey,” he says. Like you’re an acquaintance. Like he’s mildly surprised to see you and finds it mildly unremarkable.
“I need to talk to you,” you say. Something shifts.
The easy expression doesn’t disappear exactly but it adjusts, becomes more guarded. He glances around — Jay is watching from the boards with open curiosity, Riki less subtly — and then jerks his head toward the corridor off the main rink.
You follow him into it. It’s quieter here, the noise of the rink muffled, the overhead lights slightly too bright. He turns and faces you with his arms crossed and his weight back, and waits. You had sentences. You had very good sentences, all the way across campus.
“I’m pregnant,” you say.
The corridor goes very quiet. Jake looks at you. His expression does several things in quick succession that he doesn’t quite manage to keep off his face — shock, and something that might be fear, and then a shuttering, a closing, something careful dropping down over all of it.
“Okay,” he says.
“Okay,” you repeat.
“That’s — okay. How far—”
“I just found out today. So.” You fold your arms across your chest. “Not far.”
He nods slowly. His jaw is working. He looks at the floor for a moment and then back at you and the careful expression is fully in place now, composed and unreadable, and you don’t know whether to be relieved or furious about it.
“Are you sure it’s mine,” he says.
The corridor goes even quieter somehow.
You look at him. “What did you just say.”
“I’m just—” He shifts his weight. “We don’t know each other. I don’t know who else you’ve been—”
“Are you calling me a slut.” It comes out flat. Not a question.
“I’m not calling you anything, I’m just saying I don’t know—”
“You’re the only person I’ve slept with in four months.” Your voice is very level. “I was in a relationship. It ended. I haven’t — there’s been no one else. There’s only been you.” You look at him. “And I can’t believe I’m standing here explaining that to you.”
“I’m not trying to—”
“You literally just implied I could have slept with someone else.” The level voice is beginning to fray at the edges. “You literally said that. To my face.”
“Look, I just—”
You slap him.
You don’t plan it. Your hand moves before the decision has fully formed, the sharp crack of it landing across his cheek, and then there’s a ringing silence and your palm is stinging and Jake’s head has turned with the force of it and he’s looking at you now with an expression you haven’t seen on him before. Not angry. Something more complicated than angry.
“Don’t ever,” you say, quietly, “imply something like that to me again.”
He says nothing. His hand has come up to his cheek, not pressing, just — there. His jaw is tight.
“I thought you should know,” you say. “That’s all. I thought you deserved to know because it’s yours and you deserved to know. I haven’t decided anything yet and I’m not asking you for anything.” You pull your bag higher on your shoulder. “Okay?”
“Okay,” he says. Low. You walk back out into the cold. You text Mina out and she sends back seventeen question marks which is fair.
You tell her you’ll explain when you get back and spend the walk home feeling the particular hollow exhaustion of someone who has done the thing they needed to do and now has no idea what comes next.
You’re back in your building, one flight up, when you hear him behind you. “Hey—”
You turn. Jake is in the stairwell, still in his practice gear, slightly out of breath like he walked fast to get here, and you have absolutely no idea how he found out which dorm you’re in and you’re going to have questions about that later.
“How did you—“
“Jay knew,” he says, which explains nothing and everything.
He comes up the last few steps and stops on your landing and runs a hand through his hair and looks like someone who has been having a very difficult internal conversation at speed. “Can I—”
“No,” you say.
“Two minutes.” You look at him. He looks back. The mark from your hand has faded from his cheek but his expression is still doing that thing — complicated, unreadable, something working behind it.
“Two minutes,” you say, and unlock your door. Your room is small and suddenly smaller with him in it. He stands just inside the door like he’s not sure he’s allowed further in, which is the most uncertain you’ve seen him, and you sit on the end of your bed and look at him and wait.
He reaches into his jacket. He puts a stack of bills on your desk. You look at the money. You look at him. “Jake.”
“It’s enough to cover — whatever you decide.” He’s not quite meeting your eyes. “I’m not — look. I don’t want a kid. I’m not in a place for that. We don’t know each other. But I’m not going to just—” He stops. Starts again. “Take it. Whatever you need it for.”
You stare at the money for a long moment. “Are you going to want to be involved,” you ask. “If I decide to keep it.”
Something crosses his face. “I don’t — I haven’t—” He exhales. “I don’t know.”
“Okay,” you say. “That’s honest at least.”
“Are you going to keep it,” he asks. Quietly. Like he’s not sure he has the right to ask.
You look at the money on your desk. You look at him — standing in your doorway in his practice gear, jaw tight, trying very hard to look like someone who has this handled and not quite managing it — and you think that this is the first time he’s looked like a person to you. Not the reputation, not the corridor composure, not the ceiling of his bedroom. Just a person who is as blindsided as you are and coping with it badly.
“I don’t know yet,” you say. “I’ll let you know when I do.”
He nods. He looks at you for a moment longer than necessary. Then he picks up the money from your desk and puts it on your nightstand instead, like the desk was somehow wrong, like the four feet of distance makes a difference, and you don’t say anything about it.
“I’m sorry,” he says, at the door. “For what I said. At the rink.”
You look at him. “Which part.”
“All of it.”
He closes the door behind him and you sit on your bed in the quiet of your room for a long time, the money on your nightstand and the weight of everything pressing down, and then you pick up your phone and call your sister.
She picks up on the third ring. “Hey, you.” Hannah’s voice is warm and slightly distracted in the way it always is — you can hear one of the kids in the background, the particular high-pitched negotiation of a five year old who wants something and has decided now is the time. “Give me two seconds.”
Then, away from the phone: “Lily, baby, I said after dinner. After. Yes. Because I said so, that’s why.” A door closing.
Then: “Okay. Hi. Sorry. What’s up?”
You open your mouth. You’ve been sitting on your bed for forty minutes since Jake left, the money on your nightstand and your phone in your hand, and you’ve composed this conversation approximately thirty times in your head and all thirty versions started more coherently than what actually comes out, which is: “I did something kind of stupid.”
“How stupid.”
“Significantly.”
A beat. Hannah has always been good at letting silence do its work, at not rushing in to fill it with the wrong thing. It’s one of the things you’ve always loved about her. “Okay,” she says. “Tell me.”
So you tell her. All of it — the party and Jake and the test and the corridor and the slap and him in your room with the money — and Hannah listens through all of it without interrupting, which is its own kind of gift, and when you’re done there’s a moment of quiet that feels like her sorting through it.
“Okay,” she says again. “First question. Are you physically okay?”
“Yes.”
“Second question. Do you have someone with you?”
“Mina’s coming over in an hour.”
“Good.” You can hear her moving around, the soft sounds of her kitchen. “Third question, and I want you to actually think about it before you answer — not what you think you should say, not what’s practical, not what he wants or what anyone else wants. Just you.”
She pauses. “Do you want to keep it?”
You look at the money on your nightstand.
You think about the question the way she asked it — stripped of everything else, just you, just the truth of it underneath all the noise.
The thing is, you already know. You’ve known since the bathroom floor this morning, since you sat with your back against the tub and your forehead on your knees. It’s why the knowing has been so terrifying — not because you’re uncertain but because you’re not, and being not uncertain makes it real in a way that uncertainty would have postponed.
“Yeah,” you say. Quietly. “I do. I just — I don’t want it to be his. I don’t want to be tied to someone who—” You stop. “I don’t want the situation. I just want—”
“The baby,” Hannah says. “Yeah.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Those are two separate things,” she says. “The situation and the baby. They feel like the same thing right now but they’re not.”
You hear her sit down somewhere. “Marcus and I — when I had Lily, things with us were not good. You remember. We were not in a good place. And I thought about it the same way — I want her, I just don’t want this. And it was hard. It was genuinely really hard. But she’s five now and she’s the most annoying, amazing person I’ve ever met and I can’t — I can’t imagine.”
You press the back of your hand to your mouth.
“I’m not telling you what to do,” Hannah says quickly. “I promise I’m not. Whatever you decide I’m with you. I just — you asked.”
“I know,” you manage. “I know you’re not.”
“Is he terrible?” she asks. “This Jake person.”
You think about the corridor. The money. I’m sorry. For what I said. All of it. “I don’t know yet,” you say. “He’s — I don’t know what he is.”
“Okay.” Hannah’s voice is careful and warm. “You don’t have to know yet. You don’t have to know anything yet except what you want. Everything else gets figured out.”
You sit with that for a moment. “I’m keeping it,” you say. Out loud, to another person, for the first time. It lands differently than it did in your head — more solid, more real, like something that has been decided rather than something being considered.
“Okay,” Hannah says, and she says it the way Mina says it — not okay as in fine but okay as in I’ve got you. “Then we figure out the rest.”
You tell Mina when she comes over and she holds your hand and doesn’t say anything for a long moment and then says “okay, what do we need to do” in the tone of someone rolling up their sleeves, which is exactly right, which is why she’s your person.
You tell Jake two days later.
You find him after morning practice on a Wednesday, same side entrance to the Hargrove Center, and this time he sees you coming and something in his posture adjusts — not quite bracing, just becoming more careful, more deliberate, the way he gets when he’s paying attention. “Hey,” he says.
“I’m keeping it,” you say.
He goes very still. You watch him process it — the stillness and then the almost imperceptible movement of his jaw, the way his eyes go somewhere internal for a second before coming back to you. He looks like someone doing rapid and complicated mathematics. “Okay,” he says finally.
“You don’t have to be involved. I meant that when I said it. I’m not — I’m not asking you for anything except to know. You deserved to know and now you know and whatever you decide to do with that is up to you.”
“I said I’d provide,” he says. “I meant that.”
“Money isn’t the same as involved.”
“I know.” He shifts his weight. His hands are in his pockets and he’s looking at you with that careful expression, the one you can’t fully read. “I don’t — I’m not going to be the guy who just throws money at it and disappears. That’s not—” He stops. “I don’t know what I am yet. But I’m not that.”
You look at him for a long moment. There is, underneath the practice gear and the careful composure and the history of the last two weeks, something that might be decency in there. It’s buried. It’s inconsistent. You’ve seen it appear and disappear enough times already to know better than to trust it yet. But it’s there. “Okay,” you say. “Then figure out what you are and let me know.”
You turn to go. “Can I—” He stops. You look back. “Can I have your number,” he says. “Properly. So we can — so it’s easier to—”
“To what.”
He looks, briefly, like someone who hasn’t thought this far ahead. “Talk,” he says. “If we need to.”
You look at him for a moment. Then you take out your phone and hold it out. He puts his number in and hands it back and you save it under Jake Sim (do not text unless necessary) which you do not show him. “I’ll be in touch,” you say.
Jake doesn’t mean to tell his friend— or he does, but not like this, not in the locker room with his gear half off and Riki eating a protein bar on the bench across from him and Jay taping his wrist in the corner and Jungwon doing something on his phone. It comes out the way things come out when you’ve been holding them too long and the effort of holding them finally exceeds the effort of saying them.
“I got someone pregnant,” he says.
The locker room goes quiet. Riki stops chewing. Jay puts down the tape. Jungwon looks up from his phone. “I’m sorry,” Jay says, with the careful enunciation of someone who wants to make sure they’ve heard correctly. “You what?”
“You heard me.”
“I heard you, I just want to make sure I—” Jay sets down the tape fully and turns to face him. “Who.”
“Girl from Delta Kappa. Three weeks ago.” Another silence. Jay is looking at him with an expression that Jake doesn’t particularly enjoy — something between concern and the specific look of someone doing the maths on how this could have happened and arriving at several uncomfortable conclusions about Jake’s general life choices.
“Are you—” Jungwon starts.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I was going to ask.”
“Then what.”
Jungwon looks at him steadily. “Is she okay.”
Jake opens his mouth. Closes it. Thinks about you in the corridor at the rink and your voice going flat and your hand cracking across his face, and then you in your dorm room — calm and certain and telling him you weren’t asking him for anything, which was somehow the part that landed hardest. “I think so,” he says. “She’s — yeah.”
“Do you like her?” Riki asks, with the bluntness of someone who has not yet learned that some questions require more runway.
“I don’t know her,” Jake says.
“That’s not what I asked.” Jay shoots Riki a look. Riki shrugs and takes another bite of his protein bar.
“What are you going to do?” Jay asks, turning back to Jake.
Jake leans his elbows on his knees and looks at the floor. The locker room smells like it always does — ice and rubber and effort — and it’s familiar in a way that is almost destabilising right now, how normal everything around him is when nothing feels particularly normal. “I don’t know yet,” he says. “Be there, I think. As much as she’ll let me.”
“As much as she’ll let you,” Jay repeats. Something in his tone.
“She’s not — she’s not soft.” Jake looks up. “She’s not going to make it easy.”
“Should she?”
Jake looks at him. Jay looks back, steady and unhurried. “No,” Jake says, after a moment. “Probably not.”
Jay nods once. Picks the tape back up. “Then figure it out,” he says, like it’s simple, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and Jake sits with that in the familiar smell of the locker room and thinks that he probably needs to.
—
The truce, when it forms, is not announced. It happens gradually over the following week — a text from him checking if you need anything, which you respond to with I’m fine thanks and nothing else. A text from you three days later telling him your first appointment is booked for the following week, which he responds to with do you want me there and you respond with not yet and he responds with okay and that’s it, that’s the whole exchange, and somehow it’s the most civil conversation you’ve had.
He doesn’t push. You note this without letting it mean too much. You’re not friends. You’re not anything with a name. You’re two people who made a mistake that turned into something neither of you planned for, and you’re figuring out how to exist in the same orbit without either of you combusting, and most days it feels manageable and some days it feels impossible and on the days it feels impossible you call Hannah, who answers on the third ring and lets the silence do its work.
It’s something, you think. It’s not much but it’s something. For now, that has to be enough.
The thing about Caldwell though, is that it’s a big campus until it isn’t.
Thirty thousand students, four faculties, two libraries, a quad the size of a small park — and yet somehow the people you most want to avoid have an unerring instinct for occupying the same coffee shop, the same corridor, the same stretch of pavement at the same time.
You’ve been navigating this for four months with Sunghoon and you’ve gotten good at it. You know his schedule well enough to avoid it without meaning to, the way you learn the shape of someone after two years and can’t quite unlearn it.
Which is why it catches you off guard when he’s just — there. The library café, a Tuesday afternoon, three weeks after the test. You’re at a corner table with your laptop and a cup of tea you’ve been nursing for an hour because coffee is still wrong and probably will be for the foreseeable future, and you’re halfway through a close reading of Middlemarch chapter forty-two when someone pulls out the chair across from you and sits down and you look up and it’s Sunghoon.
He looks, as he always looks, like something assembled with unreasonable care. Dark hair, clean jawline, the particular quality of stillness he has that used to make you feel calm and now just makes you feel tired.
“Hey,” he says.
You look at him. Then at the chair he’s sitting in. Then back at him. “I didn’t say you could sit.”
“I know.” He doesn’t move. “I just wanted to talk.”
“Sunghoon.”
“Five minutes.”
You close your laptop. Not because you’re agreeing, but because whatever he’s about to say you want to be looking at him when he says it. “Five minutes,” you say. “And then you’re going to go away.”
Something moves through his expression — not quite hurt, but adjacent. He folds his hands on the table. He has nice hands. You spent two years noticing his hands. “I saw you at Delta Kappa,” he says.
“I know. You texted me.”
“You didn’t reply.” He looks at you steadily. “You were talking to Jake Sim.”
There it is.
You keep your face very neutral. “I was at a party. I talked to a lot of people.”
“Jake Sim isn’t a lot of people.” Something in his voice shifts — not quite possessive, not quite jealous, threading that needle with the precision of someone who knows he doesn’t have the right to either and is trying to disguise it as concern. “He’s not a good person to get involved with.”
“Thank you for that,” you say. “I’ll bear it in mind.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.” You look at him. “Sunghoon. You don’t get to come sit at my table and tell me who I should and shouldn’t talk to. You gave that up.”
His jaw tightens. “I know I did.”
“Then why are you here?”
He’s quiet for a moment. Outside the café windows the quad is grey and overcast, students moving across it with their heads down against the wind, and Sunghoon is looking at you with an expression you know — you’ve catalogued it, the way you’ve catalogued everything about him, two years of accumulated knowledge you can’t seem to put down. It’s the expression he gets when he wants to say something and is choosing his words with care.
“I miss you,” he says.
You look at him for a long time. The honest answer is that you miss him too — or you miss the version of things you thought you had, which isn’t exactly the same as missing him but lives close enough to it that the distinction is hard to maintain on a grey Tuesday afternoon with him sitting across from you looking like that.
You miss having a person. You miss the shape of your life before it got complicated in every possible direction.
But you also know what he did.
You know it with the specific clarity of something you’ve gone over enough times that it’s stopped being sharp and started being just — true. A fact about him. A fact about what he chose. “I know,” you say. Carefully. “But that’s not my problem to fix.”
He nods. Slow. Like he expected it and it still costs him something. He stands up, pushes the chair back in, and then pauses with his hands on the back of it. “Are you okay?” he asks. “Actually? You look—” He stops.
“I look what.”
“Tired,” he says. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine,” you say.
He looks at you for a moment longer. Then he goes, and you open your laptop, and you stare at Middlemarch chapter forty-two for a while without reading any of it.
You don’t tell Jake about Sunghoon.
There’s no reason to.
You and Jake are not — whatever you are, it doesn’t include telling each other things. It includes occasional texts, one appointment you went to alone where a doctor confirmed what you already knew and gave you a due date that made it real in a new and specific way, and a strange careful politeness that exists between you like a temporary structure neither of you fully trusts.
He texts you on a Friday evening. how are you feeling
You look at it for a while. Fine. Less sick this week.
that’s good
A pause. Then: do you need anything?
You think about your sister’s voice. You don’t have to know anything yet except what you want. You think about Jake in your dorm room, the money on your nightstand, I’m not going to be the guy who just throws money at it. You think about how many times in the past three weeks he’s almost been decent and then done something to complicate it.
I’m okay, you send back. Thanks.
He sends a thumbs up and you put your phone face down and tell yourself this is fine, this arrangement is fine, and mostly you believe it.
You find out about the girl on a Saturday night.
You’re not looking for it — you’re not the kind of person who goes searching for things they don’t want to find, you learned that lesson with Sunghoon — but Caldwell is a big campus until it isn’t, and Mina’s friend group overlaps with the hockey crowd in the specific way that happens at schools where athletes are their own ecosystem but not a fully separate one.
It’s Mina who tells you, with the careful expression of someone who has been sitting on information and decided you’d rather hear it from her. “I heard Jake hooked up with someone last weekend,” she says. Not leading with it, not burying it either. Just: here is a thing that is true.
You look at your coffee. You’ve graduated back to coffee this week, weak and milky, which feels like a victory. “Okay,” you say.
“You’re allowed to have feelings about that.”
“We’re not together, Mina.”
“I know.”
“He can do whatever he wants. We’re not — there’s nothing between us. We’re just—” You move your hand in a vague gesture that encompasses the entire situation. “This.”
“I know,” Mina says again, in the tone that means she has more to say and is choosing not to. You continue to drink your coffee.
The thing is — and this is the part you don’t say out loud, the part you turn over privately in the quiet of your own head — the thing is that you know she’s right.
You are allowed to have feelings about it.
You do have feelings about it, somewhere underneath the very reasonable and correct observation that Jake Sim owes you nothing beyond basic decency and whatever co-parenting arrangement you eventually figure out.
You have feelings about it the way you have feelings about a lot of things lately — in the muffled, at-a-distance way, like they’re happening to someone slightly removed from you and you’re watching through glass.
You’re pregnant with his baby and he’s sleeping with someone else and you’re not together and you have no claim on him and all of that is true simultaneously and you’re not sure what to do with the fact that it still sits in your chest like something uncomfortable.
“I don’t care,” you tell Mina. She looks at you with the expression that means I know you and I know that’s not entirely true but I love you so I’ll let you have it.
“Okay,” she says.
—
Jake texts you on Sunday.
heard you’ve been doing better. that’s good
You stare at the message for a long time. Yeah, you type back. Thanks.
A pause. Then: can I take you to your next appointment?
You put the phone down. Pick it up. Put it down again.
The question sits there, simple and direct, and the thing about it is that it isn’t nothing. It’s not the gesture of someone who is just throwing money at a situation. It’s — something. Small and tentative and probably not enough and something nonetheless.
It’s in two weeks, you send back. I’ll let you know.
okay, he says. no pressure.
You put the phone down and look at the ceiling and think about a girl you don’t know and a Saturday night you weren’t part of and the specific stupidity of having feelings about either, and then you think about your next appointment and the due date the doctor gave you and the small impossible reality of all of it, and you decide that you are going to take a nap and deal with every single one of these things later.
Later, you think. All of it later.
He comes to the appointment, in the end you let him. You texted him the details the night before — time, building, room number — and he’s there when you arrive, standing outside the health centre with his hands in his jacket pockets and his breath fogging in the cold, and he looks up when he sees you coming and something in his expression does that thing, that complicated unreadable thing, and he falls into step beside you without saying anything.
Inside, in the waiting room, you sit next to each other in plastic chairs with a magazine between you that neither of you reads. A couple across the room are holding hands. You and Jake sit with six inches of space between you like a demilitarised zone.
“You okay?” he asks, quietly.
“Fine,” you say. “You?”
“Fine,” he says.
The nurse calls your name and you both stand up and Jake follows you in and stands slightly to the side while the doctor talks and asks questions and pulls up the scan on the screen, and you look at it — the small impossible blur of it, the heartbeat a flickering certainty on the monitor — and you feel the thing in your chest that you’ve been keeping at distance move closer without permission.
Beside you Jake goes very still.
You don’t look at him. You look at the screen.
“Everything looks perfect,” the doctor says.
You nod. You don’t trust your voice.
In the corridor after, walking back out into the cold, Jake is quiet for a long time. Longer than usual even for him.
You’re almost at the path that splits — his way, your way — when he says, without looking at you: “That was—”
“Yeah,” you say.
He nods. Puts his hands back in his pockets. “I’ll walk you back,” he says.
You think about the girl he slept with. You think about Sunghoon in the library café. You think about the scan on the monitor and the heartbeat that is real and certain and not theoretical anymore.
“Okay,” you say.
He walks you back. You don’t talk much. It’s not uncomfortable exactly — it’s something more complicated than that, something neither of you has a name for yet, and when you reach your building he stops at the bottom of the steps and looks at you and opens his mouth and then closes it again.
“What,” you say.
“Nothing,” he says. “Just — take care of yourself.” You look at him for a moment.
“You too,” you say, and go inside.
—
Sunghoon doesn’t give up. You’d half expected him to — one conversation in the library café, you’d said your piece, he’d said his, and you’d thought that would be the end of it. Sunghoon has always been precise about things, economical, not the type to repeat himself unnecessarily. You’d thought he’d take the answer and file it and move on.
Instead he texts you on a Wednesday. Just — how are you doing. No punctuation, which for Sunghoon is practically shouting.
You don’t reply.
He texts again on Friday. can we get coffee sometime? just to talk?
You stare at it for a long time.
You show it to Mina, who makes a face. “Don’t,” she says.
“I’m not going to,” you say.
He finds you on campus on Monday — the English building, your own territory, which feels deliberate. He’s waiting near the entrance when you come out of your seminar and you see him before he sees you and for one uncharitable second you think about turning around and going back inside.
You don’t. You keep walking. “Hey,” he says, falling into step beside you.
“Sunghoon.”
“I just want to walk with you.”
“I didn’t say you could.”
“I know.” He walks with you anyway, hands in his coat pockets, quiet for a moment in the way that used to feel comfortable and now just feels like pressure. “How are you feeling?”
You glance at him. “Fine.”
“You look better than last time I saw you. Less tired.”
“Thanks,” you say, flatly.
He’s quiet again. The path curves toward the quad and you keep walking and he keeps pace and you’re aware — acutely, uncomfortably aware — that you’re starting to show. Not dramatically, not in a way that’s obvious under your coat, but enough that you know. Enough that it’s a matter of time.
“I meant what I said,” Sunghoon says. “In the library.”
“I know you did.”
“I’m not trying to pressure you.”
“You’re walking next to me uninvited,” you say. “What would you call that?”
He stops. You stop too, half a beat later, and turn to look at him. He’s standing in the middle of the path with that precise, careful expression and something underneath it that isn’t quite what he’s performing, and you know him well enough to know the difference and wish you didn’t.
“I made a mistake,” he says. “I know I did. I know what I did and I know it was—” He stops. Starts again. “I just want a chance to—”
“Sunghoon.” You keep your voice even. “I can’t do this right now. I genuinely cannot — there is too much happening in my life right now for me to also be doing this. Okay? Please.”
He looks at you. Something in his expression shifts — a question forming, something he’s noticed that he can’t quite place. “What’s happening?” he asks. Carefully.
“Nothing that’s your business,” you say. “Please just — let me go.”
And he lets you go.
But the problem is that Caldwell is a big campus until it isn’t.
The problem is that two weeks later you’re at a party you didn’t particularly want to attend — a smaller thing, a friend of Mina’s, an apartment off campus — and both of them are there. Jake and Sunghoon.
You don’t notice Jake first. You notice Sunghoon, across the room with his circle, and you note it and move on, you’re good at that now. You get a drink — water, the specific reality of being the only sober person at a party hitting — and find Mina and settle into the corner and decide you’ll stay an hour and then leave.
You notice Jake about twenty minutes in.
He’s near the kitchen with Jay, and there’s a girl — tall, dark-haired, laughing at something he’s said with her hand on his arm and her body angled toward him in the specific way that means something. You see him lean in to say something close to her ear. You see her laugh again. You look away.
You look back to Mina, who is mid-conversation with someone and hasn’t clocked it, and you drink your water and you are fine, you are completely fine, this is exactly what you knew was happening and seeing it in person doesn’t change anything and you are fine.
You last another twenty minutes before you decide you’re going to get some air.
The problem is that getting air requires passing the kitchen. Jake sees you at the same moment you see him and something in his expression shifts — that recalibration, that adjustment — and the girl’s hand is still on his arm and you keep walking, eyes forward, almost past— “Hey.”
His voice.
You stop. You turn. He’s stepped slightly away from the girl, who is watching with a politely curious expression. “Hey,” you say.
“You’re here,” he says, which is not his most articulate moment.
“Briefly,” you say. “Don’t mind me.” Something moves across his face.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” You smile at him — pleasant, neutral, the smile of someone who is absolutely fine. “Enjoy your night.” You keep walking.
The air outside is cold and you stand on the small concrete step outside the apartment and breathe it and tell yourself the tightness in your chest is just the stuffiness of the party and not anything else.
You hear the door behind you. “Hey—”
You turn, expecting Jake, and it’s Sunghoon. Of course it’s Sunghoon.
He’s in his coat, hands in his pockets, and he looks at you with that careful expression and says “I saw you come out” like that explains what he’s doing here, which it does, which doesn’t make it better.
“I needed air,” you say.
“I know.” He comes to stand beside you. Close, but not touching. “You looked upset.”
“I’m not upset.”
“You have a face,” he says, gently, and you hate that he’s right, hate that after four months and everything that happened he can still read you like that. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Is it Sim?” Something in his voice changes — not quite hard, not quite angry, threading the needle. “Are you involved with him?”
“That’s not your business.”
“I’m asking because I’m worried about you, not because—”
“Sunghoon.” You turn to face him. “Please stop. Please just—”
The door opens behind you. Jake comes out. He takes in the scene — you and Sunghoon, close, Sunghoon’s expression, yours — in about half a second and his jaw tightens in a way you’ve learned to read as something being suppressed.
“Everything okay?” he asks. Looking at you, not at Sunghoon.
“Fine,” you say, for what feels like the hundredth time tonight.
“She said she’s fine,” Sunghoon says. His voice is even. “So you can go back inside.” Jake looks at him. Something passes between them that has nothing to do with you — some older, unnamed thing.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jake says.
“Then walk away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Jake.” Your voice is sharper than you intend. “It’s fine. Go inside.”
He doesn’t go inside.
He stays where he is with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on Sunghoon, and Sunghoon stays where he is with that precise stillness, and the cold air between all three of you is doing a lot of work.
“You’re the one she’s been seeing,” Sunghoon says, to Jake. Not a question.
“That’s not your business,” Jake says.
“It is when you’re—” Sunghoon stops. Something has crossed his face — he’s looking at you, at your coat, and the realisation moves through his expression slowly and then all at once.
His eyes find yours. “Are you—”
“Don’t,” you say.
“Are you pregnant?”
The step goes very quiet.
Jake goes very still.
You look at Sunghoon and there is a specific kind of exhaustion that moves through you — the exhaustion of someone who has been managing too many things for too long and has just watched one of them slip out of their hands.
“That,” you say, carefully, “is none of your business.”
“It’s his, isn’t it.” Not looking at Jake. Looking at you. Something in his voice that you don’t have a name for — not anger, not hurt, something more complicated and less clean than either. “You hooked up with Jake Sim at a party and now you’re—”
“Sunghoon—”
“What were you thinking?” And there it is — the composure cracking, the precision slipping, something rawer underneath. “What were you actually — with him, of all people—”
“Hey.” Jake’s voice is hard. “Watch yourself.”
“You stay out of it—”
“She told you it’s none of your business—”
“I’m talking to her—”
“Then talk to her with some respect—”
“Oh that’s rich, coming from you.” Sunghoon turns to Jake fully now and the precise stillness has sharpened into something else. “Everyone knows what you are. Everyone knows how you treat—”
“And everyone knows what you did,” Jake says, low and flat. “So don’t stand here and act like you’ve got the moral—”
“Stop.” Your voice cuts through both of them. They both look at you. “Both of you. Stop.”
A beat. “I’m going home,” you say. “This is—” You gesture at the three of you, at the step, at all of it. “I’m not doing this.”
“I’ll walk you—” Both of them, simultaneously.
“Neither of you will walk me anywhere.” You pull your coat around you. “I want to go by myself and I want both of you to leave me alone tonight. Okay?”
Sunghoon opens his mouth.
And then — later, when you try to reconstruct the exact sequence, it’s hard to isolate the moment it tips — he reaches for your arm, a gesture, just trying to stop you leaving, and Jake moves at the same time, stepping forward, his hand coming out to push Sunghoon back, and Sunghoon turns, and the angles are all wrong, and Jake’s elbow catches you across the side of your face.
It’s not hard. It’s not a real blow — it’s the edge of the motion, glancing, the kind of thing that in any other circumstance would be an accidental knock in a crowded corridor that you’d shake off and keep walking.
But you make a sound and stumble back.
Jake turns and sees your face and goes completely white. “Fuck—” He reaches for you.
“Don’t touch me.”
Your hand comes up. Your voice has gone very quiet. The side of your face is throbbing, low and dull, and underneath it everything else — the tiredness, the party, Sunghoon’s face when he realised, the girl’s hand on Jake’s arm — all of it presses in at once and you are so, so tired.
“I didn’t — it was an accident, I didn’t mean to—”
“I know it was an accident,” you say. Still quiet. Still very controlled. “I know that.”
“Are you okay? The baby—”
“I’m fine. It was my face, not—” You stop. Press your fingers briefly to your temple. “I’m fine.”
Jake is looking at you with an expression you haven’t seen on him before — something undone about it, all the composure gone, something almost desperate. “Let me take you home—”
“No.”
You look at him. Then at Sunghoon, who has gone very still and very pale. “I’m going to get Mina. I’m going to go home. And I don’t want either of you to contact me tonight.”
You take out your phone. You text Mina. You wait on the step with your back to both of them until she comes out, takes one look at your face, takes your arm, and walks you away without saying a word.
Behind you, you don’t look back.
Jake texts at midnight. I’m so sorry. please tell me you’re okay
You look at it for a long time. I’m fine, you send back. Goodnight Jake.
He sends: I’m sorry again
Those two words, and you put your phone face down and stare at the ceiling of your dorm room and Mina is asleep in your desk chair with a blanket over her because she refused to go home and you love her for it, and the small dull ache in your temple has faded to almost nothing, and the baby is fine, you’re fine, everything is fine.
You don’t text him back.
He tries on Sunday.
A text at nine in the morning — can we talk please? — that you look at and put face down without replying.
Then at eleven: I know you’re angry. you have every right to be. I just want to talk.
Then at two in the afternoon, which shows either impressive persistence or a complete inability to read a room: I’m going to keep texting until you tell me to stop.
You text back: stop.
He texts back: okay. I’m sorry.
You put the phone in your drawer.
He doesn’t stop.
Well, he stops texting — he respects that, or he tries to, mostly — but he finds other ways. There’s a bag outside your dorm room door on Monday morning: crackers, the specific brand you’d been eating in the early weeks, ginger tea, a punnet of the green grapes that you’d mentioned once in passing to him that you’d been craving. No note. Just the bag.
You stand in your doorway looking at it for a long time.
You bring it inside. You eat the grapes. You do not text him to say thank you and you do not text him to say stop and the not-texting feels like its own kind of answer that you’re not ready to examine yet.
On Tuesday he’s outside your building.
Not lurking — he’s sitting on the low wall by the entrance with his hands between his knees and his jacket on against the cold, and he stands up when he sees you come out and he doesn’t move toward you, just — stands there, and waits, and lets you decide.
You stop on the steps. “Jake.”
“Five minutes,” he says. “I know I don’t deserve them. Five minutes and then I’ll go and I won’t — I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
You look at him. He looks back. He has, you note, the specific appearance of someone who hasn’t been sleeping well — not dramatic, just a tightness around his eyes, a quality of having been somewhere difficult in his own head for the past two days.
Good, says a part of you.
The other part steps down off the steps and stands in front of him and crosses her arms and says: “Five minutes.”
He exhales. “I’m sorry,” he says. “For Friday night. For — all of it, the whole night, but specifically for—” He stops. His jaw works. “I should never have let it get to that point. I should have walked away from him the second it started and I didn’t and you got hurt and you’re — the baby could have—” He stops again. Something in his face that isn’t composure. “I will never forgive myself for that. I need you to know that. It keeps me up.”
You look at him. “It was an accident.”
“It was an accident that happened because I couldn’t keep my head.” His voice is flat with self-assessment. “Same difference.”
“It’s not the same difference.”
“It’s close enough.” He looks at you steadily. “I’m also sorry for the girl at the party. I know you saw. I know we’re not — I know you don’t have any claim on me and I don’t have any claim on you and technically I didn’t do anything wrong but I’m still sorry because I saw your face and I knew and I did it anyway and that’s—” He stops. “That’s not who I want to be. With this. With you.”
The wall by the entrance is cold and grey and a girl from your floor passes you both with her earphones in and doesn’t look up and the world keeps moving indifferently around this conversation.
“You hurt me,” you say. Not the elbow. The other thing. The girl at the party and the ceiling of his bedroom and the weeks of almost-decency that kept getting complicated. “Not — not physically. You just keep—” You stop. “Every time I think maybe you’re a person you do something that reminds me why I shouldn’t think that.”
He takes that. Doesn’t deflect, doesn’t explain, just takes it. “I know,” he says.
“I need you to be consistent,” you say. “I can’t — I’m going to have your baby, Jake. We’re going to be in each other’s lives for a very long time. I need you to be someone I can rely on or I need you to be completely absent because the in-between is—” Your voice doesn’t shake. You’re proud of that. “It’s too hard. I can’t do the in-between.”
He’s quiet for a moment. The wind moves across the quad and he looks at you with that expression — the undone one, the one without composure — and says: “I don’t want to be absent.”
“Then be consistent.”
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Okay?”
“What else do you want me to say?” He’s not defensive — it’s a real question, earnest in a way that sits oddly on him, like a piece of vocabulary he hasn’t used much. “Tell me what you need and I’ll do it. Specifically. I’m not good at—” He moves his hand. “Guessing. Feelings. Whatever this is. But if you tell me what it looks like I’ll do it.”
You look at him for a long moment.
“No more girls,” you say. “Not while we’re — not while this is what it is. I know I have no right to ask that but I’m asking.”
Something shifts in his expression. “Done,” he says. No hesitation.
“And show up. When you say you’re going to show up, show up.”
“Done.”
“And don’t fight people on my behalf. I can handle my own situations.”
His jaw tightens slightly. “That one’s harder.”
“Jake.”
“Done,” he says. “Okay. Done.”
You look at him. He looks back. The five minutes has long since passed and neither of you has moved and the cold is starting to get into your fingers.
“The grapes were good,” you say finally.
Something in his expression — brief, warm, gone almost immediately. “I’ll get more,” he says.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” He says it simply. No performance in it.
You nod. You pull your coat tighter. “I have a seminar,” you say.
“I know. Go.” He steps back, hands in his pockets. “Thank you. For the five minutes.”
You go.
He tells his father that evening.
He doesn’t plan to. He goes to his dad’s office on the east side of the admin building for what is ostensibly a standing weekly dinner that they do on Tuesday evenings — a thing they’ve done since Jake’s freshman year, his dad’s attempt at maintaining something normal in the specific abnormality of being the dean’s son at your own father’s university. They go to the Italian place two blocks off campus. They talk about the team, the season, coursework, the usual rotation.
Except tonight Jake sits down across from his father and picks up the menu and puts it down again and his dad looks at him over his own menu with the steady, unhurried attention that has always been the most disarming thing about him — the way he looks at you like he has all the time in the world and means it — and says:
“What’s going on.” Not a question. His dad has never really needed to make them questions.
Jake puts his menu down. He looks at the table. He thinks about you on the steps this morning saying every time I think maybe you’re a person and the specific accuracy of it, the way it had landed not like an attack but like a diagnosis.
“I got someone pregnant,” he says.
The restaurant is quiet around them — mid-evening, not full yet, the soft noise of other people’s conversations providing cover. His dad sets his menu down with the deliberate care of someone who is choosing his response carefully.
“How far along,” he says.
“About eight weeks.”
His dad nods slowly. He’s a big man — Jake has his build, the same broad shoulders, though his dad carries more grey now at his temples and something steadier in his face, something earned. He looks at Jake with the expression that Jake has never been able to fully decode — not anger, not disappointment exactly, something more complicated and more patient than either.
“Tell me about her,” he says.
Jake blinks. Of all the things he’d expected — “What?”
“The woman. Tell me about her.”
Jake opens his mouth. Closes it. He thinks about you — the flat voice in the corridor at the rink, your hand cracking across his face, I can’t do the in-between. The grapes. The way you’d said the grapes were good like it cost you something to admit it.
“She’s—” He stops. Tries again. “She’s a third year. English lit. She’s sharp. Like — she doesn’t let me get away with anything, she just looks at me and calls it and moves on. She’s not—” He shifts. “She didn’t want this to be mine. She told me that. She wants the baby, she just didn’t want it to be complicated, and I’ve made it complicated.”
“How.”
Jake looks at the table. Lists it. The slap he deserved, the money that was clumsy, the girl at the party, Friday night and the elbow and her face and the specific look she’d had, controlled and exhausted and done.
His dad listens to all of it without interrupting. When Jake finishes there’s a pause — his dad picks up his water glass, drinks, sets it back down.
“Do you like her?” he asks.
Jake looks up.
“It’s a simple question,” his dad says.
“We don’t — I don’t know her. Not really.”
“That’s not what I asked, son.”
Jake is quiet for a moment. He thinks about you outside your building this morning, arms crossed, giving him five minutes you didn’t have to give. The way you’d said I need you to be someone I can rely on like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like you weren’t asking for anything extraordinary, just — consistency. Basic human consistency. The thing he has never had to be for anyone.
“Yeah,” he says. Quiet. “I think so.”
His dad nods. Like that’s the piece he needed. Like everything else was context and that was the information.
“Then be someone worth liking,” he says. Simply. Like it’s obvious. Like it’s the only thing that matters and everything else is just logistics.
Jake looks at him.
“You’ve never had to work for anything,” his dad says, and it’s not unkind — it’s just true, delivered with the directness of someone who has been watching this coming for a long time. “Not really. Not the things that count. You’re talented and you’re smart and things have always — moved for you. And that’s partly my fault.” He meets Jake’s eyes. “But she’s right. You can’t be the in-between. You’re going to be someone’s father. That’s not a thing you can be inconsistent about.”
Jake absorbs this.
“I know,” he says.
“Do you?”
“I’m trying to.”
His dad looks at him for a long moment. Then he picks his menu back up. “Good,” he says. “That’s the right answer.” He glances over the top of it. “Order something. You look like you haven’t eaten good in a while.”
Jake looks at the menu.
“Dad,” he says.
“Mm.”
“I really—” He stops. “I’ve really made a mess of this.”
His dad lowers the menu slightly. Looks at him with that steady, unhurried attention. “Yes,” he says. “But messes can be cleaned up.” He raises the menu again. “The carbonara is good tonight.”
Jake picks up his menu.
He end up ordering the carbonara.
—
The thing about consistency is that it’s quiet.
It doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t arrive with a gesture or a speech or a moment you can point to and say — there, that’s when things changed. It just accumulates, slowly, in the background of your ordinary life, until one day you look up and realise the weight you’ve been carrying has shifted without you noticing.
Jake shows up.
That’s the only way to describe it. He shows up in the small ways, the unglamorous ways, the ways that don’t make for a good story but add up to something anyway. He texts when he says he will. He’s outside your building on Wednesday mornings because you have a seminar and the walk takes you past the science quad where the wind is brutal and he started walking with you three weeks ago without asking and has not stopped. He brings food — not always the crackers and ginger tea, sometimes just the grapes, sometimes something from the good Thai place near the rink that you’d mentioned once you were craving and didn’t expect him to remember.
He remembers things.
This is, you find, the most disarming thing about him. More than the jaw and the shoulders and the specific quality of his attention when he’s fully in a conversation.
He remembers that you take your tea with one sugar and that you’re writing your dissertation on George Eliot and that your sister’s youngest is called Lily and that you cannot watch medical dramas right now because they make you anxious in a way you can’t fully explain. He files things away and uses them with a quietness that suggests he’s not doing it to impress you — he’s just paying attention.
And god, it’s harder to be angry at someone who pays attention. You’re still trying.
Your bump begins appearing at eleven weeks.
Not dramatically — not one morning you wake up transformed, just a gradual undeniable softening of the line of your stomach that means your jeans sit differently and your favourite hoodie, the oversized one you’ve worn for three years, suddenly doesn’t hang quite right. You stand in front of your mirror on a Thursday morning and put your hand flat against it and stay there for a moment with the strange doubled feeling that has been following you for weeks now — the unreality of it and the complete reality of it, existing simultaneously, refusing to resolve.
Mina notices before you say anything. She’s been noticing for two weeks, you suspect, and has been waiting for you to bring it up, which is one of the reasons she’s your person.
“You’re showing,” she says, on Friday afternoon, without preamble.
“A little,” you say.
“How do you feel about that?”
You think about it genuinely. “Weird,” you say. “Good weird. Mostly good weird.”
Mina nods. “Have you told Jake?”
“He’ll notice,” you say. “We’re — we’ve been spending time together. He’ll see.”
Mina looks at you with the expression that means she has registered the significance of we’ve been spending time together and is choosing, for now, not to make anything of it. “Okay,” she says.
“Don’t,” you say.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I really wasn’t,” she says, in the tone that means she absolutely was.
He notices on Saturday.
You’re at this Thai place — his suggestion, your agreement, the two of you in a corner booth with menus neither of you needs because you’ve been here enough times now that you already know — and you’ve taken your coat off because the restaurant is warm and you’re wearing a fitted top and when you reach across the table for the soy sauce you catch him looking.
Not rudely. Not in a way that makes you want to cover yourself. Just — looking, with that attentive expression, taking in information.
“Don’t,” you say.
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You have a face.”
“I have a face,” he says, which is almost a smile. “You’re showing.”
“I know.”
“You look—” He stops. Considers his word choice with unusual care. “Good,” he says finally. “You look good.”
You look at him across the table. “That was very diplomatic.”
“I meant it.”
“Jake.”
“I genuinely meant it.” He meets your eyes. “You look good. You’ve looked good for a while. I just—” He stops again. “Didn’t say it. You looks beautiful actually.”
The restaurant is warm and smells like lemongrass and the couple at the next table are arguing quietly about something and the ordinary world is going on all around you and Jake Sim is sitting across from you saying you look good with an expression that has nothing performative in it, no angle, no formula.
You pick up your menu that you don’t need and look at it. “Thank you,” you say, at the laminated page.
He goes back to his menu too. Neither of you says anything else about it. But the air between you has shifted by some small degree and you both know it and neither of you is ready to name it yet and that, you think, is okay.
For now that’s okay.
The not-naming becomes its own kind of language eventually.
He walks you to your seminar on Wednesday and waits fifteen minutes in the wrong direction from the rink to do it, which you know because you’ve looked at the campus map, which you will not be telling him. You bring him coffee one morning — just once, without explanation, the specific order you’ve heard him give three times now — and he takes it without making anything of it which is exactly right. You text him a photo of a onesie Mina finds online that says future hockey player as a joke and he sends back a voice note that is mostly him laughing, genuine and unguarded, and you listen to it twice.
You do not examine why you listen to it twice.
Sunghoon texts once more — I hope you’re okay. I mean that.
You look at it for a long time. You think about the library café and the step outside the party and the way his face had looked when he realised. You think about two years and what they were and what they turned out to be underneath.
I’m okay, you send back. Take care of yourself.
He sends a single: you too.
And that, you think, is the end of that chapter. It doesn’t feel like closure exactly — closure implies a clean line, and there is no clean line, just a gradual and mutual putting down of something that had gotten too heavy to carry. But it feels like something finished. Something that needed to be done.
You feel lighter, after.
Jake finds out about the dissertation.
Not in a dramatic way — you’re in the library one afternoon, the two of you at adjacent tables because you’d both ended up there independently and moving would have been more pointed than staying, and he leans over at some point and looks at your screen and reads two sentences and says: “You write like this normally?”
“Like what.”
“Like—” He gestures at the screen. “Like that. Like it means something.”
You look at him. “It’s an academic paper.”
“I know what it is.” He looks faintly annoyed, the way he gets when he’s trying to say something and the words aren’t cooperating. “I’m saying it’s good. It sounds like you.”
You turn back to your screen. You are not going to make anything of this. You are a reasonable and self-possessed adult and you are not going to sit in the library and catch feelings because Jake Sim said your writing sounds like you.
“Thanks,” you say, at your laptop.
“I’m serious. It’s—” He picks up his pen. “Good.”
“You said that.”
“Because I mean it.”
You look at him. He looks back, pen between his fingers, entirely unaware that he’s just done something dangerous, and you look back at your dissertation and breathe carefully and remind yourself of all the reasons this is complicated.
There are many reasons. They are good reasons. You know them all.
The night it almost becomes something, it’s late November and it’s cold enough that your breath fogs and Jake has walked you back from the library and you’re standing at the bottom of your building’s steps in the dark and neither of you is moving.
“I should go in,” you say.
“Yeah,” he says.
Neither of you moves.
You’ve been doing this — the standing, the not-moving, the conversations that go slightly longer than they need to — for three weeks now. It has a shape, this thing between you, even if it doesn’t have a name. It has weight. You’re both aware of it and both moving around it with the particular carefulness of people who have been burned recently and are not in a hurry to be burned again.
“Jake,” you say.
“I know,” he says. Like he already knows what you’re going to say. Like he’s been having the same conversation in his own head.
“I just need it to stay—” You gesture between you. “Like this. For now. Okay? I need it to stay manageable.”
He looks at you. “Is it not?”
You look back. “Less and less,” you admit.
Something moves through his expression. Warm and complicated and controlled. “Okay,” he says. “We’ll keep it manageable.”
“Okay.”
“I just need you to know—” He stops. Starts again. “I’m not going anywhere. Whatever this is, whatever speed it goes. I’m not going anywhere.”
The cold is sharp and the steps are lit by the yellow glow of the entrance light and you are eleven weeks pregnant and standing in the dark with the father of your baby who is looking at you like you’re something worth staying for, and you think about all the reasons this is complicated and you think about your sister’s voice — those are two separate things — and you think that maybe, maybe, the situation and the feeling don’t have to be the same thing.
“Goodnight, Jake,” you say.
“Goodnight,” he says. You go inside.
At the top of the first flight of stairs you take out your phone.
You open his name — Jake Sim (do not text unless necessary) — and you look at it for a long moment.
You change it to Jake.
Just Jake. Nothing else.
You put your phone in your pocket and go to bed.
—
He asks you out on a Tuesday.
Not dramatically — not with any of the ceremony you might have expected from someone who has spent the better part of four months being alternately infuriating and disarming. He just falls into step beside you on the Wednesday morning walk to your seminar and says, with his hands in his pockets and his eyes forward: “Let me take you to dinner. A real one. Not Thai because we’ve done that.”
You look at him. “Are you asking me on a date?”
“Yes.”
“Just like that.”
“Did you want me to make it complicated?”
You look back at the path ahead. The quad is grey and cold and a girl on a bike nearly takes out a first year near the fountain and life goes on all around you, indifferent and ordinary. “No,” you say. “I didn’t want it complicated.”
“Friday,” he says. “Seven. I’ll pick you up.”
“I know where the restaurants are, Jake. I go here too.”
“I know you do.” He glances at you sideways. “Let me pick you up though.”
You look at him. That expression — patient, certain, not performing anything. Just asking.
“Friday,” you say. “Seven.”
He nods. Looks back at the path. The corner of his mouth does something that isn’t quite a smile and is better than one.
The restaurant he takes you to is small and Italian and not the kind of place you’d have expected from him, which you’re finding is a theme — Jake Sim consistently failing to be what you expect in the specific ways that make him hardest to keep at distance. It’s candlelit without being try-hard about it, the kind of place where the pasta is made that morning and the wine list is handwritten and the tables are close enough that you’re aware of his knee near yours under the table for the entirety of dinner.
You talk. That’s the thing — you just talk, the way you have been talking for weeks now on walks and in the library and over Thai food, except tonight there’s no pretence of it being anything other than what it is. He asks about your dissertation and actually listens to the answer. You ask about the season and he tells you about the conference standings with genuine animation, hands moving, and you watch him and think about the ceiling of his bedroom in September and the corridor at the rink and the bag outside your dorm door and all the distance between those things.
“What,” he says, catching you looking.
“Nothing,” you say. “You’re different.”
“From what?” He laughs.
“From who you were in September.”
He’s quiet for a moment. He turns his wine glass slowly on the table. “Yeah,” he says. “I think I am.”
“Is that — do you mind that? Being different?”
He looks at you. “No,” he says. Simply. “I don’t mind it at all.”
You look back at your pasta.
Under the table his knee settles against yours and stays there and you don’t move away from it and neither does he and you eat your dinner in the warm candlelit ordinary of it and let yourself be there, fully, without managing it from a distance.
Outside afterward the cold hits and you’re pulling your coat around you when his hand finds yours. Not reaching, not making a thing of it — just his hand finding yours in the dark like it already knows the way, fingers threading through, warm and certain.
You let him.
You walk back across campus like that, not talking much, and when you reach your building you stop at the bottom of the steps and he turns to face you and you look at him in the yellow entrance light and you think about goodnight, about all the goodnights, about the careful distance you’ve been keeping.
“Come up,” you say.
His expression does that thing — complicated and warm and something that isn’t quite controlled anymore. “You sure?”
“I just asked, didn’t I?”
He follows you up.
Your room is warm and small and familiar and he’s been in it before but not like this — not with the door closed and the lights low and both of you knowing exactly what this is. He stands just inside the door and looks at you and you cross the room and kiss him.
It’s different from September.
September was heat and momentum and two people who didn’t know each other doing something that felt like a decision.
This is — slower. His hands come up to your face the way they did at the party but gentler, more deliberate, like he’s paying attention to something he nearly missed before. He kisses you like he has something to say and this is the only language that fits, and you feel it move through you differently than anything has moved through you in a long time.
“Hey,” he says, against your mouth.
“Hi,” you say back.
He pulls back just enough to look at you — really look, the way he does now, the full attentive weight of it — and his thumb traces your cheekbone and he says, quietly: “You’re so beautiful. Do you know that?”
“Jake—”
“I mean it.” You can tell he means it. It’s in his face, unguarded and certain. “I’ve been — I should have said it a long time ago.”
You look at him for a moment. Then you pull him back down.
He undresses you slowly, which is new — September was efficient, purposeful, barely stopping. Now he takes his time like he’s making up for it, his mouth following the line of your throat, your collarbone, his hands sliding your top off with a care that makes your breath catch. When he gets to the soft curve of your stomach he stops.
He goes to his knees.
You look down at him, breath held, and he puts both hands flat and warm against your bump and just — holds them there. His forehead drops forward to rest against you. The room is quiet. You put your hand in his hair without thinking about it.
“Hey,” he says softly. Not to you.
Your throat tightens.
He turns his head and presses his lips to the curve of your stomach, gentle, then again, then moves his hands slowly like he’s learning the shape of it, and you feel something in your chest come undone quietly and without ceremony.
“Jake,” you say, and your voice is not entirely steady.
He looks up at you. His eyes are dark and very serious. “Okay?” he asks.
“More than okay,” you manage.
He stands back up and kisses you again and walks you back to the bed.
He lays you down and settles over you and his mouth goes back to your tits immediately — you’d forgotten, or you’d tried to forget, the specific focused obsession of it — his hands cupping them, heavier now, thumbs dragging slow over your nipples until you’re arching up into his mouth.
“Perfect,” he murmurs against your skin, “you’re so perfect,” and the praise lands warm and low in your stomach and you pull at his shirt until he lets you get it off.
He’s as good-looking as you remembered, which is annoying.
His mouth works down your body and his hands slide your underwear off and then he looks up at you from between your thighs with an expression that makes your brain go briefly offline. “Okay?” he says again.
“If you don’t—” you start.
He puts his mouth on your pussy and the rest of that sentence evaporates.
He goes slower than September. That’s the difference — the same precision, the same devastating accuracy with his tongue on your clit and his fingers curling deep into your walls, but slower, like he wants to take you apart carefully this time, like he’s paying attention to every sound you make and adjusting accordingly.
Your hands find his hair. Your hips roll up. He holds them down with one forearm across your hips and doesn’t stop, doesn’t change pace, just keeps that steady merciless rhythm until you’re shaking and pleading and your walls are clenching around his fingers and you cum on his tongue with his name coming out wrecked and too loud for the room.
He comes back up your body looking — different than September. Still composed, still that infuriating ease, but underneath it something open. Something that wasn’t there before.
He reaches for his jacket on the floor. Finds his wallet to grab a condom.
You start laughing.
He looks at you confused. “What.”
“Jake.” You press your lips together. “We don’t — I’m already pregnant.
He looks at the condom in his hand. Looks at you. Something crosses his face and then he laughs too — real and unguarded, the laugh from the voice note, the one you listened to twice — drops it back on the floor and comes back to you.
“Fair point,” he says, against your mouth.
“Incredible,” you tell him. “You’re incredible.”
“Shut up,” he says, warmly, and kisses you.
He flips you over.
Not roughly — carefully, one hand at your hip and one at your shoulder, mindful, and you end up straddling him and looking down at him and his hands settle on your hips and he looks up at you like you’re the best thing he’s seen.
“You good?” he asks.
“Very,” you say, and sink down onto him.
The sound he makes is low and immediate and deeply satisfying. You feel every inch of him filling you, your walls stretching around his cock, and you go slow — partly because of the bump, partly because you want to, partly because watching his face as you take him is something you want to draw out. His jaw is tight. His hands on your hips are firm but not directing, just — there, holding on.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You feel—”
“I know,” you say, and roll your hips.
His head drops back.
You find your rhythm — slow, deep, the grind of your hips meeting his, and his hands tighten and his hips push up to meet you and his mouth falls open and he is, you think, the best-looking thing you’ve ever seen like this, undone and flushed and completely present, all the composure stripped away.
“Perfect,” he says, rough and low, watching you move. “You’re so perfect, look at you—”
The praise moves through you like heat and you move faster, his thumb finds your clit and you gasp and his other hand spreads warm and careful over your bump and the gesture — the gentleness of it, the instinct of it — tips something over in your chest that you’re not going to examine right now because you’re busy, but you feel it, you feel it clearly.
You cum the second time with his cock buried inside you and his thumb on your clit, his hand on your stomach and his eyes on your face. He follows you not long after with his hips driving up and your name in his mouth, said like it means something, said like he’s been saving it.
Afterward you lie tangled together in your narrow dorm bed, which is not really built for two people but is managing. His hand is resting on your stomach with a naturalness that would have been impossible three months ago and you’re staring at the ceiling and feeling the particular peace of someone who has been braced for a long time and has just, finally, put it down.
“Come to my game next week,” he says.
You turn your head to look at him. “What?”
“Home game. Friday.” He’s looking at the ceiling too. Casual. Except you know him well enough now to know when the casual is covering something. “Come watch.”
You look back at the ceiling. “Okay,” you say.
He turns his head. “Actually?”
“Don’t make it weird,” you say. “Yes. I’ll come to your game.”
The corner of his mouth. That almost-smile that’s better than a real one. “Okay,” he says, and looks back at the ceiling, and his hand stays where it is, warm and certain.
—
The following week is small moments.
Tuesday he brings you the grapes and stays to help you outline your next dissertation chapter, sitting on your floor with his back against your bed and your notes spread between you, and he asks better questions than you expect and you don’t tell him that.
Wednesday the walk to your seminar, his shoulder bumping yours, the coffee he brings without asking — your order, exact, without you saying anything.
Thursday a voice note at eleven at night: just wanted to check you were okay. don’t reply if you’re asleep.
You reply and end up talking for forty minutes.
Friday morning he’s at your door.
In one hand, coffee. In the other, folded fabric — dark blue, the Caldwell Wolves crest on the chest, white lettering across the back. SIM. 9.
He holds it out. “You don’t have to,” he says, before you can say anything. “It’s not — I’m not trying to make it a thing. I just thought—”
You take it from him.
You pull it over your head immediately. It’s enormous on you — falls to mid-thigh, swamps your shoulders, the fabric soft from washing. You look down at it and then up at him. His expression is something you don’t have a word for.
You reach up and pull him down by his jacket lapel and kiss him, there in your doorway, in the yellow morning light, slow and certain.
When you pull back he looks — stunned, almost. Like he didn’t expect it even after everything.
“What was that for,” he says with a big grin.
“The jersey,” you say. “Come on. We’ll be late.”
The Hargrove Center is loud in a way that is different when you’re in the stands rather than the corridor — a living, moving noise, four thousand people and the echo of the ice and the announcer’s voice bouncing off the rafters. Mina is beside you, which you’d insisted on, and she’s wearing a Wolves scarf she definitely did not own before today and is eating a pretzel with the focus of someone who has decided to enjoy this.
Someone sits down on your other side.
You look over. He’s older — Jake’s build, the same broad shoulders, grey at his temples, a Wolves cap and a measured, unhurried expression.
“You must be—” he starts while smiling at you with the same grin Jake gave you not long ago.
“Dean Sim,” you say. “Hi.”
He looks at you for a moment with that steady attention that is so recognisably Jake’s that it almost makes you laugh. He’s smileing — warm, real. “He talks about you,” he says. “Quite a lot.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Mostly.” He settles back in his seat. “He told me about the grapes.”
You look at him. He looks back with an expression of someone who finds this mildly amusing and is being polite about it.
“He remembered I was craving them,” you say.
“I know,” Dean Sim says. “That’s why he told me.” He looks out at the ice where the Wolves are warming up, Jake moving with that particular ease that is the same on ice as off it, unhurried and certain.
“He’s better than he knows how to show yet,” his dad says, quietly. Not performing it. Just — true. “But he’s getting there.”
You watch Jake on the ice.
“Yeah,” you say. “I know.”
The Wolves win.
Not narrowly — convincingly, the way they do when Jake is in the kind of form he’s been in lately, sharp and present, the kind of player who makes everyone around him better just by being fully there. You find yourself on your feet twice without meaning to be and Mina is absolutely losing her mind beside you in a way that suggests she has been quietly wanting to attend a hockey game for some time and has simply been waiting for the invitation.
After the final buzzer the arena stays loud, the celebration on the ice spilling into the stands, and Dean Sim shakes your hand and says it was lovely to meet you with a warmth that is entirely genuine, and you watch him go and think that Jake got the best of him, underneath everything.
And then the jumbo screen above the ice lights up.
You see it before you process it — your name, in big white letters, and then: JAKE SIM WANTS TO KNOW — WILL YOU BE HIS GIRLFRIEND?
The arena does not go quiet because four thousand people do not go quiet, but there is a definite shift — a ripple, a collective awareness, people turning and pointing and the noise changing character. Mina grabs your arm. You stare at the screen.
“Oh my god,” Mina says.
“Oh my god,” you say.
“Are you — are you going to—”
And then he’s there.
Full hockey gear, skates and all, somehow having gotten from the ice to the stands in the time it took you to register what the screen said, and he’s standing at the end of your row with his helmet under his arm and his hair damp and his face doing that thing — the unguarded thing, the thing without composure — and four thousand people are watching and Mina has both hands over her mouth.
“Well?” he says. Over the noise. Just to you.
You look at him. You look at the screen. You look back at him.
“You’re insane,” you say.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Is that a yes?”
You laugh — real and helpless, the kind that comes from somewhere you haven’t accessed in a while — and you step over Mina’s knees and go to him and he meets you halfway and you kiss him in the Hargrove Center in front of four thousand people and full hockey gear and the crowd does what crowds do when they witness something and the noise is enormous but you don’t hear any of it.
When you pull back his forehead drops to yours.
“Yes,” you tell him. “Obviously yes.”
He exhales — slow, like something released. His hand comes up to your face. His thumb at your cheekbone, the way it always is. “Good,” he says.
“Good,” you say back.
Behind you Mina is making a noise that suggests she is going to be telling this story for the rest of her natural life.
—
Three weeks later you are officially four months pregnant and the bump is undeniable now, round and real, and you’re sitting on Jake’s bed in his room — tidier than September, same room, different everything — with your legs across his lap while he reads something for class and his hand rests on your stomach with the absent certainty of someone who has stopped thinking about it and started just doing it.
The Wolves won again last night. His jersey, what you wore last night and have been to every game, is on the back of his chair.
Outside the window Caldwell goes on being large and indifferent and fully lit up, and in here it is warm and quiet and ordinary in a way that is — everything, actually. The whole thing. The specific ordinary of someone else’s presence that you’ve been missing without knowing how to name it.
“Hey,” Jake says, without looking up from his page.
“Hey,” you say.
“You good?”
You look at him — at the line of his jaw and the hand on your stomach and the room that used to be just a room and is now something else, something yours — and you think about September, about the corridor and the money and the slap you don’t regret. You think about Mina in the drugstore bathroom and Hannah on the third ring and the heartbeat on the monitor that made everything real.
You think about how none of this was the plan and how a plan was never the point.
“Yeah,” you say. “I’m good.”
He turns a page. His hand stays where it is. Outside, Caldwell. Inside, this.
synopsis: lee heeseung has been your self-proclaimed nemesis since you were in grade school. from academic rivalries to petty fights, he is in every way the person you can’t stand the most in this world. but when the boy you’ve been pining after for months pops out with a girlfriend, you’re forced to turn to your nemesis for help. a fake relationship. no real feelings. and if things go well, you’ll have the love of your life and he’ll have a finished portfolio. simple, right? except nothing is ever simple when it comes to lee heeseung.
wc: 20k
warnings: photography student!lee heeseung x fem!reader, fake dating trope, rivals to lovers, he fell first and harder, slow burn (reader takes a second to realize she’s in love with hee, but she gets there), kind of love triangle but not really, sunghoon is in here because who would i be without my heehoon agenda, also ft jake and yunjin and chaewon (le sserafim), fluff, alcohol consumption, college!au, cussing, romcom vibes (obviously. this is me writing this) // smut, p in v, oral f!receiving, fingering, soft sex, praise kink, pet names (baby, princess), body worship (? i think), begging, spitting, multiple orgasms, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)
rose thinks… for those who don’t know, fake dating is my absolute all time favorite trope, so of course i had to write it with my favorite guy. i also watched off campus so yk… it’s been a while since i’ve uploaded, so i hope this lives up to any expectations you might have had for it. a special thanks to my lovely @sjynlvr , because you unknowingly gave me the motivation i needed to write this. your kindness in enhablr is felt by this entire community, and it seriously would be so much scarier here without you. as always, reblogs are always appreciated <3
playlist: double take - dhruv // the way i loved you - taylor swift // just a little bit - enhypen // roommates - malcolm todd // boyfriend - ariana grande & social house // pov - ariana grande
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung, mostly because your mom always said that hate was just another word for love (which—absolutely not), but you do find him extremely infuriating.
It’s in the way he’s always just had to be a step ahead of you. Like that time in the fifth grade when your teacher held a mock election for your government lesson, and he’d deliberately ran against you with the sole intention of annoying you. And when he won, he didn’t even do any of the things he’d promised! All he did was pass out whiteboards, and he always made sure to give you the one with the annoying black scribbles on them.
You went through high school like that, with him constantly one upping you in everything you did. He’d even almost beaten you for valedictorian, but you scored two and a half points higher than him on your AP Physics final and the spot was rightfully given to you.
He didn't even seem mad about it, which made the entire thing even more infuriating. He’d spent years trying to prove he was better than you and didn't even flinch when it all amounted to nothing? What a tool.
University was supposed to be an escape. Not just from the mean high school girls and the boring small town you came from, but from him as well. You’d finally be able to breathe without him constantly hovering, you’d finally be able to relax without the constant worry that he was going to do something to ruin it.
So when you walked into your first day of classes at Decalis University, fully expecting to see no one familiar, you can imagine your absolute horror to see him sitting front and center like he owned the place.
He was already making good conversation with your professor, you could tell by how the older man was talking so admittedly with his hands and smiling like he couldn’t get enough of whatever it was Heeseung was talking about.
That’s the thing about Heeseung, everyone around you always seems to think he’s this perfect, charming guy. They don’t see what he really is, not like you do. You seem to be the only person he decides to be his actual evil self with. Why he chose you, you aren’t entirely sure. You don’t think you ever will be.
But that was six months ago, and despite the giant Heeseung shaped stain on your university experience, the entire thing has been significantly better than high school. You don’t see him as much for starters, and when you do he seems too busy to actually try and annoy you. Not for a lack of trying though—those first few months were torture.
You’ve got an eight am class today, which means you have an excuse to make a stop at the coffee shop on campus. It’s right next to your dorm which is insanely convenient and definitely bad for your health, but you're a freshman in college. You don’t think you could name a single person who isn’t surviving off of cheap coffee and gas station noodles.
The line is long, which wouldn’t normally be an issue, but you’re running late and your professors decided he'll dock a letter grade for every tardy. You haven’t had to go through that pain yet, and you really don’t want to change that now.
You rock back and forth on your feet uncomfortably, the line seeming to move slower and slower. You almost consider saying fuck it and just going to class, but then you remember that you’re running off of two hours of sleep and decide you’d rather not fall asleep during your lesson.
It takes another ten minutes before you place your order, and then you’re solemnly waiting off to the side and trying to act like your nerves aren’t tangling up in your stomach.
“Long line, huh?”
You tense. You recognize that voice, and when you look up, the face that accompanies it is enough to ruin your entire morning more than it already has been. So much for not bothering you.
Your eyes narrow, lips curling downwards. At this point, you’re starting to believe your body's natural reaction to Lee Heeseung is immediate disdain. “Why are you talking to me?” You ask bluntly. No point in small talk with him, especially when you know he’s just trying to get under your skin by speaking to you.
He laughs, teeth on display as he does. “Are you this hostile with everyone when you first wake up?”
“Only people who annoy me.”
“I just made an observation, why would that annoy you?”
You shoot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest. He knows exactly what he’s doing–he always has. His innocent act may work on every other person in this university, but not you. You know Heeseung, you know that getting under people's skin is his favorite pastime. You just wish you understood why he loves to do it to you specifically.
“Can you just…not? You know what you’re doing.”
“I promise I don’t.” The smirk threatening to break onto his lips says otherwise.
You take a deep breath and choose not to play into his game anymore. It’s pretty easy actually, because the barista calls out your name and you practically trip over your feet to grab it. You’ve got ten minutes to make it halfway across campus and into your lecture hall before you’re docked an entire letter grade. You’ve made it there with less.
You don’t bother saying goodbye to Heeseung, but you feel his gaze on you as you leave. Your skin prickles from the weight of it, but you don’t have the mental capacity to dwell on that right now. It’s too early for that.
Tonight’s the last game of the football season, which means practically the entire university showed up to the stadium to show their support, if support meant getting drunk off their asses.
You hadn’t planned to go, mostly because sports had never really been your thing, but Yunjin insists you have to come.
“It’ll be fun!” She pleads, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. She grabs your wrist and pulls on it, but you don’t budge from your spot at your desk. You told her that you had a big test to study for and that’s why you couldn’t go. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you didn’t really need to study, you already knew the material like the back of your hand.
You sigh and pull your arm from her grip, “I can’t do bad on this test, Yunjin. You know what’ll happen if I do.”
“Yes, yes, the big bad Heeseung will score higher than you and your entire life will be ruined. Believe me, I know.” She clicks her tongue and walks behind you so her hands can rest on your shoulders. “But I think Sunghoon would be so sad to see that you didn’t come to support him for his last game.”
You immediately tense, your face going hot and stomach flipping in ways you didn’t know were possible. Even just the mere mention of Park Sunghoon forces a physical reaction out of you. It’s honestly a little embarrassing.
Sunghoon is the kind of boy you read about in romance novels or watch romcoms about. He’s sweet, smart, and the kind of handsome you weren’t aware a person can actually be. And he does it all effortlessly, like being perfect is something he was just born with. It probably was.
It doesn’t help that he’s always going out of his way to talk to you. Study dates, coffee runs after class, texts about nothing in the middle of the night, all things that feel like a relationship but actually aren’t.
Yunjin keeps insisting that you go for it, and you know that it’s probably not going to be as scary as you’re thinking it will be. After all, all it would do is put a title on whatever song and dance it is that the two of you’ve been putting on for the past couple months.
“I doubt he’d notice if I was there or not.” You shrug, doing your best to seem casual and not like the thought of him has hearts forming in your eyes.
Yunjin squeezes your shoulder and spins your chair around so you’re forced to face her. Her red hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her brows furrowed in determination. She looks a little bit like some kind of strange love coach who takes their job way too seriously. “You’re going to this game.” She says firmly.
“I’m not.”
“That’s what you think.”
The stadium is loud, people talking over each other in the hopes their friends will be able to hear them. They don’t, which means people just talk louder. The lights are bright and overwhelming, and you almost feel claustrophobic with how close the seats are to each other, like whoever designed the place did it without any regard for personal space at all.
Yunjin and Jake are on either side of you, both of them way too invested in the game. You are too, but not for the same reasons as them.
Sunghoon got into Decalis on a football scholarship and is the school's best starting quarterback in fifteen years. Even though he has every right to have a big head about it, he’s so humble you don’t think the thoughts ever even crossed his mind. Someone always approaches him about it when you’re out together on campus, and every time without fail his cheeks go bright pink and he gets this bashful smile on his face. It’s one of the reasons you’ve fallen for him as hard as you have, because unlike most guys you’ve interacted with, he doesn’t seem to have much of an ego at all.
It’s a very welcome contrast to Heeseung.
You can see him on the field too, walking behind the players sitting on the bench and getting candid shots of them. Even though you hate admitting it, he’s always been a gifted photographer. His photos were always hanging up in local art shows or featured in your high school yearbooks. Strangely, it’s the only thing he doesn’t brag about, despite it being the only thing he deserves to.
“Oh, that’s bullshit!” Jake yells, popcorn spilling from his lap as he gestures wildly. “That was our play!”
You give him a side-eye and sink further into your seat. You honestly couldn’t care less about this whole thing; you're just excited to see Sunghoon in his post-game glow as you like to call it. Damp hair, face glowing with a sheen of sweat, his chest still heaving from running up and down the field. The entire thing is admittedly your guilty pleasure.
Yunjin elbows your ribs gently, her chin poking out to the field. You follow her gaze and find Sunghoon with his helmet in hand, drinking out of a green gatorade bottle and laughing at something one of his teammates says. He looks perfect. He is perfect.
And if things go right, he’ll be yours.
By the time the game ends, you’re more than ecstatic to finally get out of your seat and see Sunghoon. Yunjin teases you the entire way down, but you barely notice her. Not when your heart is nearly fluttering out of your chest.
But when you get down there, it’s not Sunghoon you see. No, it’s something much worse.
Heeseung.
He doesn’t notice you at first, and you almost think you’ll be able to sneak around him, but then Jake decides it’s a good idea to open his big mouth and alert the enemy to your presence.
“Heeseung!” He calls, raising his hand in a wave. “What’s good, man?”
Heeseung looks up then, sharp eyes falling onto Jake, and slowly trailing over to you. He grins, all teeth and something akin to mischief, and casually makes his way over to your small group.
“Hey Jake,” he greets, jutting his chin out swiftly. “Yunjin.”
Yunjin returns the greeting politely. “Heeseung.”
She has no reason to be mean to him, but as your closest friend, she understands that she must, by international girl-code law, dislike anyone you dislike, which includes him.
He turns to you then, and you swear you see something flash in his eyes. He keeps the same smile on his face despite the way you glare at him. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi.” You respond shortly. You don’t know why he even bothers trying to be nice to you in public, especially when he knows you're not going to return whatever sentiment it is he has.
He smirks like you’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. “Would it hurt you to be nicer?”
“Yes,” you respond easily. “It would, actually.”
He frowns and grabs at his shirt dramatically, right over where his heart is. “Always so mean.”
“You’ll live.”
He chuckles, reaching out and roughing up your hair. You smack his hands away and rush to fix it, palms smoothing down the parts he frizzed up. “Don’t do that!”
He ignores you and turns to talk to Jake about the game, and you can hear them say something about how the referees almost cost the team that last quarter, but you aren’t paying attention to that anymore.
Because behind Heeseung you can see a familiar head of damp black hair, thick eyebrows, and a perfect smile.
“Hey guys,” Sunghoon grins as he approaches. He’s ditched his football uniform and is instead wearing a black long sleeved compression shirt, and you swear your brain short circuits at the sight.
His attention falls to you first, just like it always does, and his smile widens just a fraction. Not enough for it to seem like anything else but a friendly gesture, but it doesn’t stop your heart from fluttering out of control or your cheeks from heating to near impossible levels.
“Hey!” You chirp a bit too loudly, hand shooting up in a wave.
“Nice game tonight, man!” Jake gushes, his hands moving animatedly. “The way you got that goal right at the beginning was insane! I swear, Penn didn't even know what hit them.”
Sunghoon grins and brings a hand up to his neck, the way he always does when somebody praises him, like he still can’t quite process the amount of attention on him. “Thanks, Jake. Seriously.”
“Those refs were awful though,” Yunjin throws in.
The three of them end up in conversation about the game, all of them spewing out football lingo that you couldn’t be bothered to understand. Heeseung's still here too, just…lingering.
He’s friends with Jake and Sunghoon, yes, but he’s always on the sidelines. He’s been like that since high school. He’s friends with everyone, but he never lets them in. Doesn’t make any attempts to know them outside of a surface level friendship.
It’s a little sad, honestly. But you stopped questioning the way his brain worked a long time ago. If he wanted to keep to himself, then that was perfectly fine by you.
You don’t notice her approach, not until she’s sliding into the spot next to Sunghoon like she belongs there. Short black hair, bangs that frame her face like she was born with them, big brown eyes. Kim Chaewon is as beautiful as she is smart, and unbelievably kind. Not to mention she’d made cheer captain as a sophomore, and has kept the title all the way into her junior year.
“Hey, Hoon,” she says, voice sweet like honey. You know it shouldn’t, but something twists low and deep in your chest at the way she looks at him. Like she knows him. Like he belongs to her.
You expect him to greet her like he does everyone else. Always polite, but without the extra tenderness he saves for you. Without the small quirk of his lips or the subtle softening of his eyes, because that had always been yours. Your look.
Instead, when he looks at her, his lips quirk up, his eyes soften, and he snags a hand around her waist like he can’t imagine it being anywhere else.
You think this must be a joke. Not a very funny one, but a joke nonetheless. A tasteless prank. Because there is no way Park Sunghoon—the same Park Sunghoon that calls you in the middle of the night and insists he walk you home from class—has his arm around Kim Chaewon and is giving her the same look he gives you.
Yunjin looks just as shocked as you feel, but she’s never been as good at having a poker face as you. Her jaw drops, eyes going wide as she stares at the pair of them. “Um,” she laughs uncomfortably, “Sunghoon do you mind maybe… informing us as to who this is?”
Yunjin knows who Chaewon is, you know that. She's doing that thing she does where she tries to indirectly ask someone something without coming off as rude. For once, you're thankful for her weird methods.
Sunghoon clears his throat, his eyes flickering to yours for a split second before they return to Chaewon. “Right, uh,” he swallows, and you watch as his fingers flex at his side. A nervous habit. “This is Chaewon. We’ve been…seeing each other.”
You blink, your mind going a million miles a minute as you try to make sense of what he’s saying. The words are coming out of his mouth, and yet they still feel fake. Like a figment of your worst nightmare where the boy you’re in love with tells you he’s seeing someone.
“Seeing each other?” You repeat, voice raising in pitch.
Chaewon nods, her lips curling up into a shy smile as she places a hand on Sunghoon's chest. “It was a recent development,” she chuckles.
You feel like you’re going to be sick.
Sunghoon smiles at her before removing his arm from her waist so he can gesture at the three of you. “How do you feel about dinner so Chae can get to know you guys? My treat.”
Chae. How long has this been going on for them to already have cute little nicknames for each other?
The thought of sitting at dinner with them sounds like torture. Having to sit there and watch him touch her? Smile at her? You don’t want to sound jealous (you are), but that’s supposed to be you. You’re the one he should be smiling at—you were the one! You can’t wrap your head around how he could suddenly be seeing someone when just last week he was smiling at you like you meant something to him?
Had you imagined it? Convinced yourself there was something there when he was just being friendly? But even Yunjin said he looked at you differently. Was she just feeding into your delusions?
Heeseung's voice pulls you out of your frenzy, and when you look up, he’s looking straight at you like he can read your mind. “Sorry, man,” he says, eyes staying on you for a moment longer before they shift to Sunghoon. “I’ve gotta get these pictures developed before they close the red room.”
Sunghoon waves him off, “don’t worry about it.” He says, “I’ll see you when we get home tonight. What about you guys?”
There’s absolutely no way you’re going to dinner with them. You can’t, like, physically can’t. You think you’ll die if you do.
Instead of saying that, or coming up with some kind of excuse, what comes out is, “I’m free.”
Yunjin's head snaps to you in shock, and then she blurts out a sudden, “same!”
Jake shrugs, “I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Great!” Sunghoon grins, “let’s meet at that diner off of fifth? They’re usually open late.”
He walks away after that, hand in hand with Chaewon, and you watch them go while your heart sinks deep into your chest. She’s laughing at something he says, her free hand slapping his arm lightly, and he smiles down at her like she’s the only girl in his universe. The same way you thought he was doing to you.
“Well,” Heeseungs starts, his eyes finding you’d once again, like he can feel the hurt radiating off your body. He probably can. “Since when was that a thing?”
Jake shrugs the way most clueless men do. “No idea.”
The two of them walk away after that, and you’re thankful to be left alone with Yunjin.
“What the fuck?” She says, hands resting on her hips. “That’s gotta be a joke. Or maybe some kind of dare. I don’t fucking know, but there’s no way they’re actually seeing each other! He was literally blowing up your phone two days ago!” She snaps her fingers like she’s made some kind of profound discovery. "It must be some kind of spell. You know, I’ve always thought witches and magic were real–”
“Yunjin,” you interrupt, eyes already glassy and throat closing up with an onslaught of tears. You aren’t going to cry over him–that would be ridiculous, especially since you weren’t even dating, but that doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt. If you’re being completely honest, it hurts like hell.
Yunjin notices immediately, and before you can process it, she’s throwing her arms around you and pulling you into her chest in the middle of the field. “I’m sorry, babe,” she sighs, “I really thought he was going to ask you out tonight.”
She’s not the only one.
You just shrug, doing your best to mask your hurt, even though you know there’s no point when it comes to Yunjin. You’ve only known her for six months, yet she’s the only person who can read you like an open book. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she mumbles, pulling away from you and placing her hands on your shoulders. “But it will be. Because we’re going to show Sunghoon exactly what he missed out on.”
You snort, rolling your eyes and shrugging her off of you so you can make the trek back to your shared dorm. “What are you talking about?”
She shrugs, “you’ll see.”
You should question her. Should refuse to go anywhere with her until she tells you what her plan is, but you don’t do any of that. You trust Yunjin, and you know that while her methods may be strange, she does everything with good intentions. Besides, you doubt you won’t be able to handle whatever it is she’s cooking up.
The diner off of 5th is the only place that stays open after ten pm and still serves edible food. It’s a campus staple, which means it’s nearly always packed—especially after games. So, you aren’t too surprised that you have to weave through multiple bodies just to find the table Sunghoon had managed to snag for the five of you, and nobody comments when it takes you nearly five minutes just to make it from the front door to your seats.
“I’m starving,” Yunjin groans, her tongue swiping over her lips as she flips through the menu. The both of you know she’s just going to get the same thing she does every time, but she says she finds joy in looking unpredictable.
“Me too,” Sunghoon agrees.
He looks good. Tired, but good. His hair is falling over his eyes in that dorky kind of way and he’s wearing his glasses—a rare sight. Normally, you’d be the only one doing this much analysis into his look, but when you glance over at Chaewon, she’s staring at him with a dopey grin on her face.
You frown and look down at your menu. You still don’t understand how this could’ve happened. It just didn’t make any sense. When you take out the part where you’re totally in love with Sunghoon, it still makes no sense for him to hide his apparent relationship with Chaewon. Was it a relationship? Are they even dating? Or are they just in that weird space between where you both know it’s going to happen, but they’re still choosing to dance around it?
You’d thought you were there with Sunghoon. You thought it was only a matter of time before he swept you off of your feet and confessed his love for you with some kind of grand, dramatic gesture.
But your life is clearly not a movie, because Park Sunghoon is reaching for Chaewon's hand under the table. His thumb is rubbing small, comforting circles into her skin, and she’s doing a very bad job at hiding her smile.
You shouldn’t have agreed to come.
Jake, for all his strange qualities, has always been observant (except when it comes to possible romantic partners), and he watches the entire exchange with narrowed eyes and bated breath. You’d never talked to him about your relationship with Sunghoon, but he (along with your nemesis) was the guy's roommate, so you assume he must've known that there was something going on between you. Unless you really are just delusional and everything had been entirely friendly.
“So,” Jake starts, wagging his finger towards the couple. “We’re so glad you’re here, Chaewon. Seriously. But I just can’t believe this is the first I’m hearing about…this. I mean, not to sound like a douche or anything, but I live with Sunghoon and he hasn’t brought you up once. He’s talked about–” his eyes find yours for a fleeting moment, before he clears his throat and tries to pretend it never happened. “It’s just kind of unexpected.”
Chaewon giggles, reaching a hand up and swiping her bangs over her forehead. They fall right back into place. “It was a recent development.”
Yunjin snorts, taking a sip from her cup with the kind of casual confidence you wish you had. “Clearly.”
If anybody catches the irritation in her tone, they don’t comment on it.
“He actually hit me with a football during practice,” Chaewon laughs, bringing her arm up to rest casually behind Sunghoon. You can nearly make out her fingers playing with the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It was the total opposite of a meet-cute. But it still worked out anyway, because he invited me to coffee as an apology and things just went from there.”
Coffee? He always takes you to coffee. Did they go to the same place you go to? Did he show her the secret menu that’s not really a secret? Did he joke around with your favorite barista like he does when he’s with you?
Your throat feels tight again, but you suck down a gulp from your drink and try to act like you aren’t on the brink of emotional collapse.
Yunjin smiles, but it looks forced. She taps your thigh once, like she’s warning you, but before you can question it, she’s already opening her mouth. “You know, that’s honestly kind of crazy. Two of my friends are getting into relationships at the same time. You’d think I’d get some of that luck too considering I seem to be the common denominator here, but nope!”
You blink. You love Yunjin, you really do, but outside of you the only other person you saw her consistently speak to is her pet gerbil. And even that was leaning into more of a casual situation lately.
Sunghoon’s eyebrows raise briefly, but he’s quick to lower them. “Really?” He mumbles. You can practically feel the curiosity radiating off of him. He’s always been way too nosy. “Who?”
The next few moments are still a bit of a blur in your mind. You remember feeling like someone had spilled a bucket of cold water on you, but when you ran a hand through your hair, it was completely dry.
Yunjin smiles, and she looks so innocent you almost believe the lie that rolls off of her tongue like honey. You probably would’ve if it didn't have to do with you. “[Y/N], you’ve been seeing someone recently as well, haven’t you?”
You nearly choke, eyes widening into saucers. You splutter for an answer, blinking rapidly as you do. “What? A relationship? I don’t–well, I mean–maybe–?” It’s not until Yunjin sends a swift heel to your shin do you manage to get out a full sentence. “Yes,” you squeak. “I have been…seeing someone. It’s very recent. Very new. Honestly, I’m just as surprised as you are that it happened so quickly.”
The table goes silent for a moment, and you suddenly feel very, very exposed. You know Yunjin knows you’re a terrible liar, she witnessed it firsthand when you tried to lie about eating her leftover cheesecake, and yet she thought making you lie in a group setting would make your skills any better? If anything, it just made them ten times worse!
You’re waiting for the inevitable–for someone to give an uncomfortable laugh before attempting to move the conversation forward. Meanwhile, you’re going to pray to whatever is listening up in the sky for the floor to swallow you whole and for this day to have never happened.
But that doesn’t happen. Instead, the next few moments are probably the most confusing of your life.
“That’s good, [Y/N],” Sunghoon says, smiling at you the way he does with everyone else. It’s not the smile you’re used to. Not the curl of his lips that would send butterflies fluttering around in your stomach and make your cheeks burst with color. This one is practiced, easy. Entirely wrong. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
You pale, parting your lips to give some shitty excuse. Maybe your delivery man? You met when he was dropping off your amazon vibrator and he complimented you on the brand. A very plausible start to any college relationship, and it’d be easy to hide considering he’s not real.
But before you can tell your made-up story, Yunjin beats you to the punch.
“Oh, you’re going to lose your mind. I know I did when she told me.” She laughs aloud, and when her eyes find yours, you suddenly wish you’d never even gotten out of bed this morning. Maybe finishing the course with a B wouldn’t have been so bad if it meant you got to avoid this terrible fate.
She leans forward on the table, lowering her voice into that soft teasing tilt she’s perfected. “She’s been seeing your other roommate. The one she apparently can’t stand.”
Jake’s eyes widen, his hands slamming on the table so he can lean against them and get a better look at you. He practically screams when he asks, “you’ve been seeing Heeseung?”
You should’ve just taken the dock off of your grade.
“Yunjin, do not come near me right now or I swear to God you’re going to be missing chunks of hair.”
She winces, hands immediately tugging on the red strands. “Anything but the hair! You know it’s my best feature.” She attempts to joke, but you’re having absolutely none of it.
“You realize they live with him, right? What happens when they ask him about his apparent relationship with me?” You snap, slamming the door to your dorm behind you. The walk here had been completely silent—or, at least, it had been from your end. Yunjin spent the entire time trying to act like she hadn’t just lied to all of your friends that you were dating Lee Heeseung. The one person in this world everyone knows you cannot stand.
She flops onto her bed and stretches her arms over her head. “They’re guys! They don’t talk about that kind of stuff. Jake didn’t even know Sunghoon was seeing Chaewon! Which, can we talk about that, actually? I mean, seriously, what the fuck? One second he’s taking you on these cute little dates and the next—”
“Yunjin,” you groan, rubbing the heels of your palm into your eyes. You’re absolutely exhausted, and you aren’t sure how much longer you can talk about Sunghoon without your head wanting to explode. “As much as I’d love to talk about Sunghoon's sparkling love life and my lack of one, I’ve got a nine am tomorrow that I’d rather not have to sleep through because I stayed up all night talking about my nonexistent love life.”
She nods, a small smile on her lips. "No, yeah, of course. But, before you become dead to the world, you’re actually kind of wrong about something.”
“What?”
“Your love life isn’t nonexistent,” she says thoughtfully. “You’re seeing Heeseung, remember?”
You throw the pillow at her so hard you’re surprised it doesn’t mold to her face.
You’ve always enjoyed your nine am literacy analysis lecture. After all, you’re an English major. Literacy analysis is kind of your whole thing.
The only part of the class that is mildly annoying is the fact that you share it with Heeseung. But, surprisingly, he rarely ever bothers you. You aren’t sure if it’s because he’s finally matured and realized it’s stupid to bother you during lecture, or if he’d just gotten bored of the entire thing. Either way, you’d be perfectly fine with whatever the answer was as long as it kept him away from you.
Today though, your nerves are practically fried. Does he know? Did he expose you? You don’t know why he would lie for you, and honestly, you don’t expect him to. He probably laughed out loud before Sunghoon and Jake even asked him about it.
God, you love Yunjin, you really do, but right now you wish she’d stayed home with her gerbil last night. Maybe that way she wouldn’t have been able to open her big mouth.
You don’t look at Heeseung when you enter. You don’t even look in his general direction. You just keep your head down and try to look as normal as possible through the lecture, which is exceptionally difficult when your mind is buzzing with so much nervous energy it could power the entire university.
The usual hour seems to pass by in a blur, and when your professor releases you for dismissal, you’re quick to pack your bags and make a swift exit. You're practically out of breath by the time you make it outside, but you’re relieved you managed to get out without having to make any contact with Heeseung. You aren’t sure you would’ve been able to survive the embarrassment.
You pull the strap of your bag further up your shoulder and pull out your phone, fully ready to call Yunjin and complain to her about the mess she’s gotten you into, but a call of your name forces your head up.
Heeseung makes his way over to you casually, a backwards baseball cap covering up his dirty blonde hair and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He isn’t giving you that usual teasing smile he always wears when he sees you, instead he looks unusually serious.
You tense, pulse pounding in your ears and alarm bells ringing in your head. You have half the mind to turn and make a run for it, but he reaches you before your feet can move.
“Hi,” he says simply. Casually. Like he’s talking to a friend and asking about the weather.
You hesitate, but return the greeting nonetheless. “...Hi.”
He cracks a smile, but scrunches his nose before it reaches his eyes and his lips fall back down into a straight line. “We need to talk.”
Your blood turns to ice, skin paling before you can stop it. He knows. And if he knows that means he told everyone the truth, and he’s probably already told the entire campus about your stupid lie as well. You’re going to be known as the girl who lied about being in a relationship because she couldn't accept that the boy she likes has a girlfriend, and then you're going to have to transfer somewhere else and start going by a new name.
God, you are going to kill Yunjin. It’ll be like a final goodbye before you’re forced to move across the country.
You shake your head immediately. “No, uh, we don’t actually. I already know what you’re going to say, so I’ll just start packing my things now. No need for this awkward rejection or whatever–not that I’m being rejected by you. God, I’d rather die before I go out with you. But, Yunjin has a big mouth and I never know how to stop her before she says something stupid, so now my social life is totally dead and–”
You’re rambling so fast it takes a moment for you to register that Heeseung's laughing, and even longer to realize that he’s laughing at you. His shoulders shake from the force of it, and the back of his hand comes up to cover his mouth. If this was anyone else, you might even think he looked cute.
You swallow, unable to help the pout that forms on your lips. “And now you’re laughing at me.”
“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, taking in a deep breath and trying to find some composure. “It’s just…you’ve always been really good at jumping to conclusions.”
Your brows furrow, mouth parting as you try to process his words. What does he mean you’re good at jumping to conclusions? Why does he always talk like he knows anything about you? You know they shouldn’t, but the words tick you off. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugs, lips curving up into that smile you’ve unfortunately become way too familiar with. The one that screams trouble and always means he’s up to no good. “I have to admit, I was pretty surprised when Jake grilled me for half an hour last night on our apparent relationship–” you visibly wince, but he ignores it and continues– “but, I thought to myself, why on earth would [Y/N] [L/N] tell our friends we were in a relationship? I figured you had to have a reason, so I went along with it.”
Your jaw drops, eyes blinking a mile a minute like maybe that’ll help everything make sense. Newsflash, it doesn’t–if anything it just makes everything feel ten times more confusing. “You what?”
He shrugs, “you have a reason, right? Otherwise, we just became a couple for no reason. Unless that’s what you wanted? Was this whole thing just an elaborate scheme to get with me?” His voice drops an octave, and he takes a step closer, until suddenly he’s in your space and you can smell the fresh linen from his detergent and his cedarwood cologne. “You know, princess, if you wanted to be with me, all you had to do was ask.”
You might be extremely confused right now, but you’ve got enough sense to know that the last thing you want in your life is to be in a real relationship with him. And you definitely don’t want him calling you princess.
You take a step back, your arms coming up to put space between the two of you. “Ew, no, absolutely not. Like I said, I’d rather die before I dated you.”
He hums, shoving his hands back in his pockets and beginning to walk away. “Okay. I’ll just go tell Jake and Sunghoon that you lied then–”
Your hand shoots out and wraps around his arm before you can stop yourself, and you feel the muscle tense up beneath your fingertips. He stills, his head tilting as he looks back at you.
You swallow, taking your pride down with the saliva. “I’m sorry,” you sigh out, “I just don't know how to go about this without sounding like a total loser.”
His lips curve up and he turns so he’s facing you fully. “You’re going to sound like a loser to me no matter what, so just tell me.”
You glower, your hand dropping back to your side. You try to ignore the warmth lingering in your palm as it balls up at your side. “I’ve had a thing for this guy–”
He nods. “Sunghoon, right?”
Is it really that obvious? You narrow your eyes, “How’d you know? Did he say something about me?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’ve seen the way you follow each other like lost puppies. I’ve gotta admit, I was surprised when he popped out with Chaewon and not you.”
You don’t know if that makes you feel better or worse. If even Heeseung, the one person you absolutely cannot stand, could see that there was something between you and Sunghoon, then that must mean you aren’t delusional. But, on the other hand, it makes you wonder what made Sunghoon change his mind so quickly.
Were you trying to take things too slow? Did he get bored of the waiting? You thought the dancing around each other was sweet, but maybe he was looking at it differently. Maybe he just got sick of waiting around for you.
Heeseung must notice how your thoughts have wandered, because he waves a hand in front of your face and raises his brows. “You still with me?”
Your eyes snap to him and your cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, um, as I was saying, I’ve had a thing for him for a while. So, when he took us to dinner with Chaewon last night, Yunjin had this bright idea to say that I was also in a relationship with…you. And the whole thing just kind of spiraled from there.”
He’s silent for a moment, like he’s processing your words. “She said we were dating to make Sunghoon jealous? How does that work?”
You groan and run a hand over your face. “I don’t know! I don’t know what she was thinking! I’ve already yelled at her over it!” You feel your frustration building again, but you take a deep breath and force it down. “It was stupid. And now you’re dragged into this entire mess and I don’t know how I’m going to tell everyone the truth.”
There are a lot of things you dislike about Heeseung. He’s rude in that passive aggressive kind of way, and he only ever does it to you. He always forgets a pen and never gives yours back when you lend one to him. He’s wildly selfish and thinks that the entire world revolves around him. He also always manages to catch you by surprise, and you absolutely loathe surprises.
Today is no exception.
His lips part in thought, and for the first time you can actually see him thinking about what he’s going to say before he says it. Usually, he just blurts out whatever's on his mind and deals with the consequences later.
“What if…” he hesitates for a moment. “What if you didn’t tell them?”
“What?”
He splutters for a moment, a nervous laugh bubbling from his lips. “I just mean, what if we let everyone think we’re dating? Not that we actually date. That would be…awful.”
“Why would we do that, though?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like me having a boyfriend is going to change Sunghoon's mind. And what would you even get out of it aside from undeniable blackmail material?”
He shrugs, “actually Sunghoon looked pretty distraught last night. He kept asking me about you and our budding relationship.”
Your heart skips a beat at that. He was asking about you? It shouldn't affect you like it does, especially when he’s got a girlfriend, but the thought of him thinking about you has butterflies flying around your stomach.
Still, it doesn’t explain why Heeseung would want to help you. He’s never gone out of his way to do it before, so you don’t see why he would now.
“But, what do you get out of this?” You ask, pointing a wary finger at him. “You’ve never been nice enough to actually help me before.”
He scoffs, “first off, that's not true. What about that science project we did Junior year? The one with the ant colony? I partnered up with you after Stella got that weird illness.”
“You mean the ant colony you released into Mrs. Hong's room? She made us deep clean the room every day for, like, two weeks. And Stella had pneumonia.”
“Yeah, but that was after we’d already gotten an A.”
You resist the urge to roll your eyes.
He sighs and pulls out a creme folder from his bag. He taps it once and hands it to you. You accept it questioningly, looking up at him through your lashes with suspicion. “What is this?”
“My portfolio,” he explains. Just as he said, when you open it there's what you think must be hundreds of photos. Some of nature, some of the people on campus, some of just random mundane things. They’re all breathtaking shots, and it's then that you remember he’s here on a full scholarship after winning some national photography contest. It’d been the only thing he talked about for weeks.
You knew he was going to win the moment it was announced.
“Wow,” you mumble, continuing to flip through the photos. “These are amazing.”
He brings a hand up to his neck and scratches at it nervously. “Thanks.”
One picture captures your attention. It’s a candid shot of Sunghoon in class, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, eyebrows tucked in that adorable way they always are when he’s frustrated. The people around him are blurry, and you assume they’re getting their stuff for dismissal.
“The photography committee on campus is holding a competition,” he continues, “$100,000 and your pictures are featured in international art shows. But, in order to enter, I need a muse. Someone I can get consistent pictures of. If we’re “dating”, no one will question why I’m constantly taking pictures of you, and it saves me the hassle of having to ask anyone else.”
You raise a brow. He wants to be in a fake couple so that he can take pictures of you for a contest? It doesn’t feel like a fair trade to you at all. “Why don’t you ask Jake or Sunghoon? I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
He gives you a fixed look. “I already did, but they both claimed they were too busy. You’re my last resort before I start asking random people on campus.”
The explanation still feels weird to you, but you aren’t going to fight him anymore on it. Besides, you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that you’re now in a fake relationship with public enemy number one.
“So…what now?” You ask, closing the folder and handing it back to him. He takes it with steady hands, and when his fingers brush yours, there’s a solid five seconds where your breath catches in your throat and you almost forget about everything you dislike about Heeseung.
“Jay Park’s having a party tomorrow night,” he breathes, lips turning up into that awful smile. “Beer. Dancing. Maybe some weed. Sunghoon and Chaewon will definitely be there, which means you and I will also be there.”
Your nose scrunches at the thought. You’d only gone to one party so far, and the entire experience had been so awful you’d sworn them off completely.
“I don’t really do parties,” you mumble.
Heeseung snorts like that’s the understatement of the century. “We won't stay for long. Just long enough for Sunghoon to see us, and then we’ll go.”
You nod, and the air between the two of you suddenly feels heavy. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and your eyes fall to the floor. “Thank you,” you say sincerely. “For helping me.”
He doesn’t smirk. Doesn’t tease. Just nods casually like fake dating people is something he does daily. “I’ll see you tomorrow night, princess.”
You really need to tell him to stop calling you that.
When you tell Yunjin, she doesn’t even try to act surprised. “I knew it would work out,” she says confidently, staring at a pimple in her reflection. “That's why I said it in the first place.”
You roll your eyes, fingers moving over your keyboard rapidly. You need to finish up your analysis paper before the deadline next week, but every time you sit down to write your brain wanders to dirty blonde hair and that annoyingly perfect smile.
“Whatever.” You mumble, “he’s expecting me to go to some party with him tomorrow night, but I don’t know. I really need to finish this paper, and the last time we went to a party I got so drunk I collided with the wall.”
Yunjin snorts at the memory, and then she’s standing and making her way over to you. She sits crisscrossed on your bed and ever-so-gently forces your laptop closed. You don’t argue with her, it’s not like you were getting anything done anyway.
“So, your fake boyfriend–who by the way, is super hot–is asking you to go to a party with him, and you don’t want to because you’d rather stay at home and analyze Edgar Allen Poe?” She asks, drawing out the sentence so you feel completely and utterly stupid.
“It’s not Edgar Allen Poe,” you mutter, “and, I don’t know, this entire thing just feels so insane! Like, what am I hoping happens? Sunghoon realizes he’s actually in love with me and breaks up with Chaewon?”
“Exactly that, yes.” Yunjin nods, like it’s obvious.
You shoot her a glare. “That’s not fair to either of them. If they’re happy, why should I try to ruin that?”
Yunjin sighs, her hands reaching out to grab yours. She brings them into her lap and squeezes them comfortingly. “If they’re happy, then you being in a relationship with Heeseung isn’t going to matter. But you said he asked about you, right? That means he still cares at least a little bit, and if that’s the case, then it’s not fair to Chaewon for him to stay with her.” She smiles softly, her shoulders bobbing as she shrugs them. “I don’t know what he’s doing right now, but I know that there was something going on between the two of you. And if you care about him, you shouldn’t let that go without a fight.”
When she wanted to, Yunjin could give some seriously killer advice. Your lips curve up, chest feeling lighter and mind not so hazy. “Thanks, Yunjin. Seriously. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Die, probably.”
You laugh loudly, throwing your head back with it. “Yeah,” you agree, “probably.”
The next night, your nerves are absolutely shot. Heeseung texted you that he’d pick you and Yunjin up from your dorm at seven, which meant you’d spent the entire day stressed out of your mind.
Sunghoon was going to be there, that much was obvious, but the thought of parading yourself around with Heeseung in front of him makes you feel sick. For one, he knows you. He’s always been able to see right through you, and you have half the mind to think he’ll make your little lie before you even step through the door.
You suck in a breath, your hands smoothing out the sides of your skirt. The dress Yunjin lent you is a lot shorter than anything you’re used to wearing, and the black cloth hugs your curves in a way you’re not entirely used to seeing on yourself. Your heels force your back to arch, highlighting the curve of your spine and the plump of your ass.
You give yourself a once-over in the mirror, hands coming down to tug the fabric further down your thighs. “Are you sure this isn’t too much?” You ask.
Yunjin clicks her tongue, and you can see her fighting with the straps of her own dress through the mirror. “Absolutely not. You look amazing. The guys are going to lose their minds when they see you in that.”
You raise a brow and turn around to face her. “Guys? Like, plural?”
“Well, yeah,” she shrugs, “Sunghoon and Heeseung.”
Sunghoon, yes. You’d love for him to notice you. But Heeseung? Absolutely not. You could seriously care less about what he thinks about you. He was there when you didn’t understand how to get rid of your acne and when makeup was more of a suggestion then something you actually did everyday.
“Ew, no,” you gag, “I don’t care what Lee Heeseung thinks about me. The only reason he’s even helping me is for his portfolio or whatever. He’s not doing it out of the kindness of his heart.”
Yunjin hums, smoothing out her dress and giving herself one final look over in the vanity mirror. She looks amazing–she always does. You aren’t jealous of Yunjin, but sometimes you wonder what it’d be like to have her confidence. “You seriously think he’s doing this just for his portfolio?”
“Um, yeah. That’s what he said.”
She walks over to you then, her chin resting on your shoulder. “I think–and don’t go nuclear on me for this–but I think he likes you. Like, like-likes you.”
A laugh bursts from your chest. That is the single most absurd thing you’ve ever heard in your life. Heeseung can barely stand being in the same room as you without having to get under your skin. He doesn’t like you, he just enjoys pissing you off.
“You’re funny,” you snort, “and so insanely wrong.”
She shrugs and takes a step back from you. “I don’t know, [Y/N]. I don’t know many guys who get into fake relationships with people they dislike just so they can finish their portfolio.”
Your phone buzzes from your bed, and when you pick it up you’ve got a text message from Heeseung saying he’s here.
“You don’t know many guys in general, Yunjin.” You retort. You quickly grab your purse and stuff your phone inside. “He’s here. Don’t say anything weird in the car, please. I think you’ve embarrassed me enough in the last two days to last a lifetime.”
“No promises,” she winks.
Heeseung's car isn’t super nice. It’s pretty typical for any college student, actually. There’s a scratch on the passenger side door and a dent on the hood, and it looks like it could definitely use a round through the car wash. But, despite that, the sight of it makes you nostalgic.
You remember when he pulled into your first day of Junior year with this thing. He bragged about it to anyone who would listen. He’d saved up the entire summer to buy it, and he treated the run down thing like it was his pride and joy. You wonder if that’s still the case today.
He’s leaning against your door when you step outside. Dirty blonde hair, backwards baseball cap, that same fucking smile. The sight alone is enough to irritate you.
But there’s a brief moment where the smile falters. His eyes trail over you, all the way from your heels to your eyes, and you swear you see his ears go the lightest shade of pink.
You raise a brow, but before you can comment on it the smile is back and he’s acting like nothing happened. “Nice dress,” he clicks his tongue, “I didn’t think you owned anything that didn’t look like it came from a librarian's closet.”
You hate him. You hate him so much it hurts your soul. It envelops your being like an ugly monster.
You want to tell him that, but you don’t, because at the end of the day he’s helping you for whatever reason, and your mother told you that hating people was inherently wrong. So, you swallow down your annoyance and make your way to his car. “Can we try and go one night without you being a dick?”
“I don’t know,” he smirks, “you’re the one dating this dick, princess.”
You frown and try not to think about the double meaning behind his words. “Fake dating,” you correct.
“Right. Fake dating.”
The tension between you is thick, and not in the way you’re used to. Instead, this feels like some sort of gravitational pull towards him. Something you’d kept buried that is trying to dig its way back from the grave.
Yunjin groans behind you. You’d nearly forgotten she was here. “God, can you guys just fuck already and get it over with? Your sexual tension is starting to make me jealous.”
“Yunjin!” You practically screech. Your hands gesture wildly as you attempt to defend yourself. “This is not–there is no sexual tension! That’s not what this is!”
She gives you a look that says: don’t make me call bullshit.
You sigh and run a hand over your eyes. “Just get in the car.”
The party is just outside of campus, in Jay Park's two-story home that he mysteriously pays for by himself. (Everyone knows he’s a trust fund baby.) There’s some stragglers outside, all holding red solo cups and trying to act drunker than they really are. You’ve never understood the appeal for parties. To you, they just look like sweat fests that people gaslight themselves into thinking are fun.
Yunjin gets out of the car as soon as you pull up and quickly makes her way over to some guy by the front door. You watch as she tries to talk to him, and for once he doesn’t look intimidated by her outgoing nature. It’s kind of cute, actually.
You, on the other hand, feel a bit sick. For one, you don’t know what you’re going to do when you see Sunghoon. Is he even going to care? Probably not. He literally has a fucking girlfriend, and here you are trying to show off for him like that’ll change anything.
“Hey,” Heeseung murmurs from beside you, his eyebrows knitted together in what you think might be concern. “You good?”
You blink. “I don’t know.” It’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.
He’s silent for a moment, before he’s letting out a breath and turning to you. “You look good, [Y/N]. Really fucking good. Don’t let a dress like that go to waste because you’re in your head.” He emphasizes his point with a gentle tap to your forehead. “Let’s go in there and show Sunghoon exactly what he lost, yeah?”
You feel your cheeks heat at the compliment, but you force the words to the back of your mind to be dwelled on later. Right now, you just need to get out of this car and get through tonight without wanting to explode. And, honestly, you do want to show Sunghoon what he’s missing out on.
“Okay,” you nod.
He grins. “Okay.”
Inside, the party is practically buzzing with people. There’s a few people you recognize, but it’s mostly randoms that you didn’t even realize you went to school with. That’s the thing about college; you’re always meeting someone new. Your high school was the complete opposite of that–you knew everyone in your graduating class on a personal level.
Heeseung keeps a hand on your lower back the entire time, and for some reason, you’re grateful for the subtle comfort it gives you. Like it’s a reminder that he’s here and that you aren’t going into this mess alone.
You eventually make your way over to the drinks, and Heeseung grabs a can of alcohol for himself and water for you. You raise a brow as he hands it to you. You hadn’t planned to drink, but him handing you water makes you feel like he’s treating you like some little kid.
“Actually,” you clear your throat, pointing towards the other beer can on top of the ice, “I’ll have that.”
He looks caught off guard for a moment, but then he shrugs and hands the can over to you. You open it with a pop and immediately take a swig. It goes down like tar against your tongue, and your nose scrunches in disgust.
He chuckles, “sure you don’t want the water?”
You really do. “I’m sure.”
Your eyes search the crowd for Sunghoon, and sure enough he’s here. He’s playing beer pong with some of his friends from the football team, and Chaewon is at his side cheering every time he scores. They look perfect for each other, and your heart squeezes painfully at the sight. Your hands shake as you take another gulp of your beer.
Heeseung taps your waist once, before he’s tugging you into his side and pulling you towards the dance floor. Alarm bells ring in your head as you weave through the crowd. You can’t dance, anytime you’ve tried you’ve embarrassed yourself so bad you’ve debated never showing your face in public again.
“Heeseung,” you attempt, “I can’t dance!”
“Neither can anyone else here. Besides, we can’t just sit in the corner and expect Sunghoon to care. If he’s having a good time, you need to be having an even better one.” He says easily.
You scoff as he comes to a stop in the middle of the floor, directly in Sunghoon's line of sight. Heeseung has always been able to make confidence look easy–like it’s something he was born with. You, on the other hand, are not like that. Your movements are awkward and you fumble to find a rhythm that doesn’t make you look like you’re on the verge of collapse.
“Wow,” he laughs, whistling lowly when you nearly trip over your own feet. “You weren’t kidding.”
Your eyes narrow as embarrassment flushes your cheeks. “I told you! God, I’m going back to the drinks–”
Before you can walk away, he catches your wrist with his hand and pulls you back towards him. Your chest nearly collides with his, and his face is suddenly so close you can practically taste his breath on yours.
“I’m not making fun of you, princess.” He murmurs, his hands sliding up to rest on your hips, “just…observing.”
His voice is right beside your ear, and the proximity makes your body feel like it’s on fire. Suddenly, the room is too small and all you can think about is him. Sunghoon is a thought so distant in your mind you nearly forget you’d ever been thinking about him in the first place.
He brings his lips to your ear, his grip on your hips tightening the smallest bit. You wonder if he’s able to hear your heartbeat. If he can, does he know it’s beating so rapidly because of him?
“He’s looking,” he murmurs into your hair.
The call back to reality feels like a bucket of ice water against your spine. If Heeseung notices the way you tense, he doesn’t comment on it.
You clear your throat and try to ignore the way your voice shakes. “He is?”
“He was,” he grumbles with a click of his tongue. He pulls back so you can see his eyes, and for a moment you think he almost looks as wrecked as you feel. “I’m going to kiss you.”
Your eyes widen and you nearly choke on your own spit. “What?”
You barely have time to process before he’s bringing a hand up to cup your cheek, the other sliding to your spine and pulling you impossibly closer. You’re so close your noses are nearly touching, and his cedarwood cologne feels like it’s enveloping all of your senses.
“Trust me, okay?” He murmurs.
Later, you’ll say you don’t know how it happened. You’ll tell Yunjin that it all happened so fast and that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He was just helping you get Sunghoon's attention.
But the truth–the truth is that you want him to kiss you. You want him to take your breath away and for his hands to hold you like he’s afraid he’ll die without you.
And that scares you.
All you can manage is one simple word. “Okay.”
And then his mouth is on yours.
The kiss is awkward at first, more a peck than anything else, but he slides his hand to the back of your neck and pulls you closer and suddenly his tongue is in your mouth and he’s kissing you like you’re something precious.
Your hands slide to his chest instinctively, fists balling up the fabric of his shirt between your fingers. His breath mingles with yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth like you’re the best thing he’s tasted in years.
You can’t help the whine that slides from his lips when he pulls away, your own lips chasing his without your permission. It’s like your body's an addict and he’s your drug of choice.
Heeseung's lips are swollen and his pupils are completely blown, but you doubt you look much better. His tongue darts out to swipe at his lower lip, and then he’s smiling at you. But it’s not the teasing smile you’re used to or the one he gives everyone else. It’s softer. Real.
Your lips part to say something, anything, but then your thoughts go back to Sunghoon and what comes out instead is a soft, “did he see?”
Heeseungs smile immediately drops, and something akin to disappointment flashes over his face. You don’t know why the sight makes you cringe internally.
He glances up and nods his head. “Yeah,” he says, using his grip on your hips to turn you around, “he definitely saw.”
When you look, Sunghoon’s cheeks are pink and he’s staring directly at you. When he sees you looking, he’s quick to avert his gaze and try to act casually, but you know Sunghoon. He’s jealous.
This is a complete win.
So, why don’t you care as much as you should?
You should be ecstatic that Sunghoon’s feeling a certain way towards you. That’s the whole point of this stupid deal–to get Sunghoon back.
But when you turn back around and look at Heeseung, all you can think about is the way he smiled at you like you meant something to him. And how you hope he does it again.
It’s been a week since the kiss. A full week of acting like a couple. Holding hands on campus, cheek kisses in class, coffee dates at the cafe you used to frequent with Sunghoon.
It’s…weird. Somewhere along the way, you stopped hating Heeseung's general presence. Instead of a nemesis, he’s managed to turn himself into someone you don’t really mind having around. A frenemy, maybe. He’s funny, something you never cared enough to notice before, and he’s got this soft side to him that makes your heart melt the smallest bit.
“So,” Yunjin grins, taking a bite of her ramen. “Any word from Sunghoon?”
Your mouth goes dry at the mention of your apparent crush. In truth, you hadn't really thought about him at all. You used to go to sleep imagining it was Sunghoon next to you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear and holding you like you were something fragile.
Now when you close your eyes at night, all you can think about is the way Heeseung's mouth felt against yours. The way his hands gripped your hips and held you close to him.
It takes everything in you to remember that Sunghoon is the goal. You’re just feeling this way because Heeseung kissed you. Once you have Sunghoon, you’ll get over it completely.
“Um,” you mumble, sinking further into your blankets, “not yet. But Heeseung said he saw him looking at us in the coffee shop the other day. That’s good, right?”
She turns to you, her eyes narrowed the tiniest bit. “It is. So why don’t you sound more excited?”
You immediately go on the defensive. “I am excited! I’m just…tired right now. It’s late, and I’ve been up since seven.”
“Whatever you say.”
In truth, you aren’t that excited. It’s nice that he’s thinking about you. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung are doing this anyway. So why can you not bring yourself to care more?
Your phone buzzes next to you, and you have to dig through your sheets to find it. When you do, the screen is lit up with a message from Heeseung.
Hey, it reads, got time to take some photos tomorrow? There’s this park just a little off campus that I think would be a good spot.
Right. The portfolio. You’d been so busy with yourself you nearly forgot you were supposed to be helping him as well.
Sure, you reply, what time?
It doesn’t take long for him to respond. I’ll pick you up at eleven. Wear something nice, please.
You heart the message and set your phone down. You aren’t sure what something nice is supposed to entail, but you’ll do your best.
The next morning, you’re waiting outside your dorm in an outfit that you deemed appropriate for the park while also being cute. It isn’t something you usually wear–the long skirt feels restricting and the jean vest is more form-fitting then you thought it would be, but Yunjin swore up and down that you looked great, so you’re choosing to believe her.
You rock back and forth on your feet while you wait, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. Heeseung is never late, but today seems to be an exception to that.
You sigh, ready to turn around and go wait in your dorm, but the sound of your name catches you off guard.
When you look over, Sunghoon is walking over to you. He must’ve been on a run, because his arms are on full display in his sleeveless tank top. Usually, the sight would send your mind reeling. But now you barely even glance towards them.
“Hi, Sunghoon.”
He nods, coming to a stop a few feet in front of you. He’s close enough for you to see the moles on his face, but far enough that you can’t smell his usual expensive cologne. A complete opposite of Heeseungs soft cedarwood and linen.
Why the fuck are you thinking about Heeseungs cologne right now?
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he says shyly, eyebrows knit together. “I’ve…missed hanging out with you.”
Your heart skips a beat, but for all the wrong reasons.
“Sorry,” you murmur with a shrug. “I’ve just been super busy lately. You know how it gets.” It’s not a lie, you have been busy. Just…busy with Heeseung.
He pauses, his tongue darting out to lick at his lips. He looks like he’s contemplating his next words, which is something you’ve never seen him do. It hurts a bit that your relationship has turned into this. Just a month ago the thought of ignoring Sunghoon would’ve seemed unfathomable. Both of you being in separate relationships (given yours is fake) would’ve been a complete joke. And yet here you are, talking like complete strangers.
“Yeah,” he says eventually, the words quiet and hesitant. “I’ve seen you and Heeseung around campus. I was a little surprised, honestly.”
Your response is dry. Bordering on the edge of annoyance. “Yeah. So was I.”
You both know you’re not talking about Heeseung. For a moment, he almost looks regretful.
“[Y/N]-”
“Hey.”
You didn’t even notice Heeseung's beat up Honda pull onto your street, nor notice him walk out of it. He’s dressed casually in a Decalis University sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. His camera hangs off his neck and rests against his stomach, and his hand instinctively hovers over it as he approaches.
Relief floods your chest at the sight of him. You don’t know why. It must be some kind of hormonal thing.
Sunghoon takes a step back like he’s trying to put up an invisible wall between you. The two live together, and yet the tension radiating off of them makes you wonder what their living situation must be like right now. Jake must be in a constant state of stress.
“You’re late,” you murmur.
Heeseung smiles, his hand reaching for yours and pulling your wrist to his mouth. He leaves a soft kiss on your inner wrist, and your cheeks flare at the gesture.
“Sorry,” he mumbles against your skin. “Traffic.”
You fold immediately. “It’s fine. I was just worried.”
Sunghoon must sense that he’s no longer wanted, because he murmurs a soft goodbye and makes a swift exit. You watch as he jogs away, his forming growing smaller and smaller, and it doesn’t hurt like it used to. It just feels like…nothing. You look back to Heeseung, and any tension you had melts.
“What was that about?” He asks.
You shrug. “Was just saying hello.”
“And?”
You raise a brow. “And what?”
“Did he say anything about me? About our relationship?”
Oh. Right. You’re in love with Sunghoon.
“Oh,” you clear your throat and attempt to act like you hadn’t completely forgotten your deal. “Yeah, he did. I think he’s jealous, but he’s still with Chaewon, so does it even really matter?”
“Trust me, it does.” He snorts, leading you over to his car. “He was talking to Jake last night about how he apparently isn’t feeling any sparks with Chaewon. He wants to break up with her.”
That’s good. That’s what you wanted. You should be ecstatic and your heart should be fluttering in your chest. Instead, all you feel is a cold pang of disappointment.
“Good! That's great. Amazing, even.” You say, attempting to sound the littlest bit excited, but it just comes off flat and dull. Like you’re talking about an assignment and not the boy you’ve been in love with for months.
He gives you a side-eye as he opens the passenger door for you, and you slip in like it’s second nature. At this point, it is. “You don’t sound too excited,” he observes.
You’re not, but you can’t say that. “I’m just shocked, I guess. I don’t understand why he even got with Chaewon in the first place if he didn’t feel anything for her. It’s kind of…mean.”
Heeseung takes a second to respond as he climbs into the driver's seat. He wordlessly hands you his phone and lets you put on your playlist–something you hadn’t even realized was an option. You play Ariana Grande and watch as Heeseung tries to act like he doesn’t enjoy it.
“Sunghoons always been like that,” he says eventually. “He’s impulsive. Doesn’t think about what he’s doing until he’s regretting it and trying to act like he’s not.”
“Why?”
Heeseung shrugs, glancing at you from the corner of his eye for a split second before going back to the road. “Don’t know. It’s just how he is.”
You chew at the inside of your cheek and look out the window. The campus passes by in a blur, people walking to class together, pigeons scavenging for any scraps they can get, the lecture hall you walk to every morning. It’s familiar. Comfortable.
You look back to Heeseung, and instead of annoyance, you get the same feeling you do when you’re looking at campus. Familiarity. Comfort. And it scares you so much your throat nearly constricts.
“Well,” you croak, running a hand through your hair, “that’s stupid. And all it does is hurt the people around him.”
“Yeah,” he agrees softly, “it does.”
You don’t talk the rest of the car ride, and you’re thankful for it. Your mind is too alert for conversation right now. You can smell his cologne, can hear him humming along to Needy by Ariana Grande, can feel his presence consuming your very soul. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
You don’t hate Lee Heeseung. Because your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love, and that is the last thing you feel for the boy you grew up with.
When you arrive at the park, you’re entirely too eager to get out of the car. You barely wait for him to park before you’re practically stumbling out of your seat with the ordinance of a baby giraffe.
Heeseung gives you a look, but he doesn’t say anything about it. Just directs you to where he wants to go with confidence. His hand hovers at your lower back–never touching–just there. Like he’s unsure of what to do with himself when you’re not around your friends and having to keep up your act.
You don’t comment on it.
Eventually, he takes you to a small pond in the middle of the park. There’s white lilies around the water, each of them dancing in the wind while the water flows around them. The sun is bright, shining in your eyes and making you squint slightly. It’s pretty beautiful, actually. You had no idea this place was so close to your campus.
Heeseung directs you on how to pose. How to smile like you have no idea you’re being watched. It’s awkward at first, mostly because the only time you’ve ever had someone take pictures of you like this was during your high school graduation, but it doesn’t take long for the tension to ease into something softer. Easier.
He tells you to sit on the grass and tilt your head towards the pond–but each shot he gets just doesn’t feel right.
“Maybe lean more towards the left?” He mumbles, hand flying out to gesture at you. You do as he says, but apparently, he’s still not getting the shot he wants.
He clicks his tongue in frustration, “no–that’s not–just–let me fix you.”
You furrow your brows. What does that even mean? “You don’t need to fix me, Heeseung–”
He interrupts you with a laugh. “Not like that, idiot. God, you’re always so defensive.”
You part your lips to retort, but before the words can get out, he’s walking towards you and your chin is in his hand, and you suddenly forget how to communicate entirely.
He tilts your head where he wants it, the pink of his tongue poking out the tiniest bit. His face is so close that it takes everything in you to not remember how he’d tasted when his tongue was in your mouth.
You feel your cheeks heat up, but you let him do what he needs to.
“There, that’s the angle.”
“You couldn’t have just told me to tilt my chin up?”
He smiles and goes back to his camera. “I did, princess. You just don’t listen.”
God, he’s so annoying.
But still, your lips curve up and your heart gets that same feeling it did at the party. The one that you’re not quite ready to name.
“Do we really have to go to this brunch?” You groan, flopping down onto your bed. “Sunghoon and Chaewon are going to be there, and I really don’t feel like watching them be all over each other.”
Yunjin shakes her head, “that’s exactly why we have to go. So that you and Heeseung can do it right back to them.”
“They already saw us kiss! What more do we have to do? Feed each other and do that weird baby talk bullshit couples do?”
Yunjin gags and rolls her eyes. “I don’t know what couples you’re talking to, but please tell them I said to stop doing that immediately. But, no, that’s not what I meant. How is it going to look if everyone's there except for you and Heeseung?”
“Um, fine? No one’s going to care.”
“It’s going to look suspicious. Everyone knows you had a thing for Sunghoon before he popped out with Chaewon. You and Heeseung need to prove to everyone–not just Sunghoon–that you’re actually in love.”
You sigh. You know she’s right, you just hate it. Why do you need to prove your fake relationship to your friends? It feels wrong. It feels like lying.
Actually, it is lying.
“I hate lying to everyone,” you sigh, hugging your pillow to your chest. “Makes me feel like a bad friend.”
“You’re not a bad friend,” Yunjin reassures, rolling her chair over to you. It gets caught on the rug for a moment, but she’s quick to force the wheels to move again. “Besides, what they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
You give her a look. “That’s like, the worst advice you’ve ever given me.”
She chuckles, “sorry I’m not well versed in the art of therapy for fake dating. I’ll make sure to switch my degree to better accommodate you.”
“That would actually be great, thank you.”
She takes in a breath, her hand reaching for yours. “Just…don’t think of it as lying. Think about it like two friends helping each other out.”
“He’s not my friend.” You scoff, but the words don’t hold any bite behind them. Not like they used to, at least.
Yunjin grins knowingly. “Yeah, he is.”
You don’t bother correcting her again.
Brunch is at noon at that diner off of fifth. The same one you’d gone to when this entire mess started. The same one you’d started falling in love with Sunghoon at. It’s weird now, seeing how much your life has changed in the short amount of time since you were last here.
You have a fake boyfriend now. You don’t talk to Sunghoon. Your life feels like it’s falling apart and coming back together all at once.
You and Heeseung sit next to each other wordlessly, both of you more cautious about touching. It feels like there’s enough space between your leg and his to fill out the Grand Canyon. It shouldn’t bother you, but it does.
Sunghoon holds Chaewon's hand under the table, and their shoulders brush every time they move. It’s irritating and annoying and you strangely enough couldn’t care less about it. That sense of jealousy you’d felt the last time you were here no longer spills over your guts like acid, instead you feel nothing.
You try to force yourself to remember what you’d liked about Sunghoon. He’s kind. Smart. Dedicated. Absolutely fucking gorgeous.
But he’s not…
“Honestly,” Jake says between spoonfuls of biscuits and gravy, “when Yunjin told us you guys were seeing each other, I thought she was lying. I mean, you guys couldn’t even be in the same room without having some kind of argument.”
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear nervously, “yeah. I was pretty surprised too.”
You don’t miss the way Heeseung cracks a smile at that. “It was kind of sudden, but I'm glad it happened.” He says easily, “means I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her.”
You can tell he hadn’t meant to say that last part, because his eyes go wide and he tenses for a second. Not long enough for anyone to catch it, but you do. You see the way fear flashes behind his irises for a moment, the way his breath catches before filling out his chest once again.
Sunghoons throat bobs as he swallows, dark eyes darting between the two of you slowly. “Pretending?” He asks cautiously, like he’s testing the words on his tongue.
But you don’t care about Sunghoon. All you can think about is what Heeseung said. I finally get to stop pretending I can’t stand her. Is he being honest? Or is this all just a part of your act? You hate that you can’t tell.
“Uh,” he laughs nervously, bringing a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “When we were in school, I didn't know how to get her attention. She was smart and kind and friends with everyone, and I was just…there. She used to do this thing in kindergarten where she’d wait for everyone else to fall asleep during naptime before she did because she didn’t want anyone to have to sit there alone, and I remember thinking she must’ve been sent by some kind of angel.” He laughs then, a genuine one. The kind that lights up his entire face.
You hadn’t even remembered you did that, but it’s true. You did. It always just felt like the right thing to do, but the fact that he remembers it all these years later makes you feel almost dizzy.
“I think it was in third grade when I figured the best way to get her attention was to piss her off,” he continues. “I don’t know why. But I spent the next ten or more years making sure I annoyed her to the best of my ability. I think I just decided that I’d rather have her hate me than not have her in my life at all.”
The table is silent aside from the people talking around you. They’re all having normal conversations while you're going through the biggest existential crisis of your life. You understand that this is supposed to be fake–but that didn’t feel like something he made up on the spot. It felt like he was finally coming clean about something that’d been sitting on his chest for years. And if that’s true, where does that leave you?
“Heeseung…” You attempt, eyes searching the side of his face. When he turns to you, he looks more sincere than you’ve ever seen him. His hand reaches for yours under the table and he intertwines his fingers with yours. The hold is gentle, soft, right. It feels like you’re exactly where you were always supposed to be.
“Sorry,” he laughs, turning back to the group. “That was kind of sappy.”
“Nah, man, that was beautiful.” Jake murmurs, bringing a hand up to his chest. “I’m happy for you guys, seriously.”
“Yeah,” Sunghoon nods, “you guys are good for each other.” He looks resigned. Like he’s accepting defeat. It makes something click in your brain.
For the first time in your life, you think you’re starting to see Heeseung exactly for who he is.
You don’t notice the way he looks at Sunghoon. Or how he swallows back his pride and comes to terms with what he knows he has to do.
You don't comment when he pulls his hand away from you, you just assume it's because he wants to be able to properly eat his food.
When brunch is over, you say your goodbyes to everyone with a pep in your step. You know that telling Heeseung how you’re feeling might complicate things, but he basically just confessed that he remembered things you did in kindergarten. You don’t remember that kind of stuff unless it means something, right?
“I’ll walk you back to your dorm?” He murmurs next to you, and you nod.
“I’d like that.”
There’s tension in the air as you walk, one that you’re practically dying to address. But Heeseung doesn’t look like he did in the diner. He looks conflicted, scared–he keeps his eyes ahead and his hands shoved into his pockets. Nothing like the bright boy you’d been sitting next to barely an hour ago.
“Are you okay?” You ask, voice soft.
He doesn’t even glance at you. “I’m fine.”
“Then why do you look like a kicked puppy?” You attempt to joke, but he doesn't laugh. Instead, he pauses on the sidewalk, and you barely get a few feet in front of him when you notice he’s stopped.
“What’s going on, Heeseung?” You attempt again, reaching for his hand. He pulls it back so sharply you nearly flinch.
“I think…I think we need to stop.” He says finally.
Your heart drops. “What? Why? Did I–Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?"
“No, no, it’s not–” He runs a shaky hand through his hair, “fuck, it’s not you.”
You raise a brow. He’s not making any sense. He wants to stop now? After what he said in the diner? “Then what is it?” You snap.
He shakes his head like the words are too painful to speak. “You like Sunghoon, [Y/N], and he’s going to break up with Chaewon soon. I got the pictures I needed for the competition. There’s no reason to drag this on any longer than we already have.”
His words shouldn’t feel like a breakup, but they do. God, they do. They feel like he’s pulling away from you after you’ve finally come to terms with what you feel for him. “What about what you said in the diner?” You ask finally, voice breaking. “I can’t just act like that didn’t happen, Heeseung. Not when I’m finally–I’m finally…” The words get caught in your throat, but you both know exactly what you mean by them.
His hands squeeze into fists at his side. “That didn’t mean anything, [Y/N].” he says lowly, like breaking your heart is something he does daily. Maybe it was and you just never noticed before. “It was just helping the act. Keeping up the lie. That’s all.”
Tears come to your waterline, the back of your throat beginning to ache from the force of it. “You don’t mean that.”
“I do,” he says firmly, but you can see the way his eyes are beginning to turn glassy. “I really do.”
He turns on his heel then, leaving you alone on the sidewalk and turning his back onto whatever fucked up thing it is you’ve built together.
Your mother used to say that hate and love were synonymous. You know now that she was wrong.
Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung has nothing to do with love, and everything to do with pure, unadulterated hate.
Your phone chimes, and when you check the notification, what you see doesn't make you feel good. It doesn't bring joy to your heart or make you want to skip down the street. Instead, it makes your heart break a little bit more.
Yunjin: Sunghoon just broke up with Chaewon. We’re so in
You should be happy. This is exactly what you wanted, right?
So why do you feel like you just lost the one thing that mattered the most?
You haven’t talked to Heeseung in three weeks. He transferred out of your shared class–something you didn’t even know was possible this late into the semester–and stopped showing up to any group hangouts. Not that you care, obviously.
The both of you said your breakup was mutual. That the stress of school and work just didn’t make a relationship possible, but there weren’t any hard feelings. Jake had raised a brow at the entire thing, but ultimately accepted it without a word.
But, Sunghoon seeing the both of you being single at the same time again, decided that meant he could shoot his shot. Which is good–it was the entire point of this entire thing, right?
Sunghoon is nice. He holds the door open for you and he pays for your meals and he takes you back to that coffee shop the both of you loved so much.
He is perfect for you in every sense.
But when he sits next to you, you don’t feel that same spark low in your belly. When he makes a joke, you don’t laugh until you swear you’re going to run out of oxygen. He doesn’t look at you like you mean something to him.
Yunjin's not dumb, she knows something's wrong. Just a few months ago you would’ve been ecstatic at the idea of going on dates with Sunghoon, so why do you seem like you couldn’t care less about him now?
“Are you okay?” She asks, voice filled with concern. “You’ve been…distant.”
“I’m fine,” you answer a bit too quickly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don't know, why don’t you tell me?”
You blink, turning to look at her in your mirror. You’re in the middle of getting ready for you and Sunghoons third date. He told you to dress nicely for dinner, but all you can think about is the fact that Heeseung would be presenting his pictures for the contest tonight. You didn’t even get to see them, which is more annoying than anything else.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Yunjin.” You lie.
She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest and making her way over to you. She smooths down the hem of your skirt without a second thought. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me but, if it’s because of Heeseung–”
“It’s not.”
“–If it’s because of Heeseung, then I’d understand.”
You freeze, eyes snapping to hers. You never told her about the last conversation you’d had with Heeseung, because you figured there wasn’t really any point. He’d “broken up” with you, and that was that. It doesn't mean anything else.
You want Sunghoon. You know you do. It’s the entire reason you and Heeseung came up with that stupid plan in the first place. You aren’t going to throw away a good guy because you’d gotten confused.
“It’s not,” you lie again, “I’m just stressed with finals and stuff. That’s all.”
Yunjin obviously doesn’t believe you. You don’t blame her, of course. You’ve always been an awful liar.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you’re already dreading what she’s going to say. Every time Yunjin goes silent, it always means she’s going to say something that you probably don’t want to hear.
“You know,” she starts, voice soft and low, “I’ve never seen you look at anyone the way you looked at him.”
You freeze, a shiver rushing down your spine like ice cold water. “What?”
“I just mean–” She backtracks for a moment before deciding to just say it, “you never look at Sunghoon the way you looked at Heeseung. You looked…happy with him. Like, actually happy. Not just because you thought you were supposed to be, but because you actually felt it.”
You go silent at that. You were happy. Even if you hadn’t wanted to admit it–even if you were fighting it for whatever reason. “I’m happy with Sunghoon.” You say with finality, but you both hear how your voice shakes.
“If you say so,” she sighs, turning back and sitting at her desk. “What’re you guys doing tonight?”
You’re grateful for the change in topic. “He’s taking me to dinner,” you shrug, clipping on your earrings. “Somewhere fancy, I guess.”
She hums. “Do you think he’s going to kiss you tonight?”
God, I really, really hope not.
“I hope so,” you answer instead. Maybe kissing Sunghoon will be exactly what you need to get your mind off of him. “I think I’ve waited long enough.” You laugh, but it’s weak. Dishonest.
Yunjin frowns at the sound of it, but she doesn’t push. “Yeah,” she mumbles, “me too.”
Sunghoon arrives at five on the dot. Just like he said he would. You should’ve been watching the clock because you were excited for him to get here, but instead all you could think about every time you glanced at it was how nervous Heeseung must be right now. The contest starts at seven, which means he finds out in the next two hours if he wins the money. Your hand twitches at your side. You want to text him and say good luck, but you don’t.
“You look beautiful,” Sunghoon says. He’s all dark hair and dark eyes, not a single hair out of place. His suit looks expensive, and you wonder if he bought it just for the occasion. That definitely feels like something he would do.
“Thank you,” you respond, hoping he doesn’t see how fake your smile is. “You clean up pretty nicely as well.”
“I try,” he jokes, outstretching his arm for you. You take it easily, but it doesn’t feel right in your palm. It’s sturdy, easy. But, it doesn’t have any of that fire that you think it should.
Sunghoon is a gentleman the entire night. He takes you to eat, makes corny jokes, kisses your knuckles with pink cheeks. And it’s good. It’s so, so good. It’s exactly what you’ve always wanted.
But when you close your eyes, it’s not Sunghoon you see.
It’s dirty blonde hair covered by some ratty baseball cap. It’s that fucking teasing smile that you used to hate seeing. It’s watching him grow up and having him remember things about you that you’d completely forgotten about.
It’s him. Heeseung.
Sunghoon leads you to your front door nervously, his eyes searching yours like he’s trying to get some kind of read on you. You wonder if he can see that your heart isn’t here–that it never was.
“I had a good time tonight,” he says, lips curling up into a soft smile. “I hope it was the same for you.”
“I…” Your words catch in your throat. You know what the logical thing would be to do right now. Accept his compliments, kiss him sweetly, go into your room giddy and wait for him to text you. But it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.
“Sunghoon,” you start, eyes filling with tears. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He’s silent for a split second, like he’s trying to process your words. “Why?” He asks, “Did something happen? Did I–Did I do something?”
God, you wish he had. That would make this entire thing so much easier.
“No,” you laugh wetly, “It’s not you. It’s–it’s me.” You know it’s cliche, but it's true. Because while you should’ve been enjoying him tonight, all you could think about was Heeseung. About the way he’d kissed you at the party. About how he always looked at you like there was more he wanted to say but he just never knew how.
Sunghoon blinks, his eyebrows knitting together and creasing his forehead. “What?”
“You’re perfect, Sunghoon.” you start, the words flowing out of you like you’re finally admitting them to yourself. “And for a long time, you were everything I ever wanted. You went to the cafe with me. You invited me to your games. I thought–I thought that I’d finally found the person I was meant to be with.”
“I–I don’t understand,” he murmurs, “Is that not how you feel anymore?”
Your heart constricts as you shake your head. “I wanted to. I really, really tried to remind myself of how I felt for you before. But…”
It takes him a second, but you see the exact moment recognition flashes across his face. He takes a step back from you, lips falling into a straight line. “But I’m not him.”
You can’t help the sob that rips from your throat. “I’m so sorry, Sunghoon.”
You half expect him to yell, maybe flip you off and drive off in his Porsche while he gets Chaewon on speed dial. But he doesn’t. He stands there for a long moment, breathing slowly, tongue poking the inside of his cheek every now and then.
And then he looks up at you, at the tears staining your cheeks, at how the honesty ripped out of you like a force of nature. He checks his watch–6:50 pm. Ten minutes before the contest starts.
“Come on,” he says, already jogging to the driver's seat.
You’re frozen, watching him with wide eyes. Did he not hear what you just said? “Sunghoon–”
He gives you a look so sharp it nearly steals the breath from your lungs. “We’ve got ten minutes to make it to that contest, and unfortunately, I’m not very big on breaking traffic laws. So, hurry up and get in!”
You gawk at him, a smile curling onto your lips, but you run into his car, nevertheless.
He was right, he’s not big on breaking traffic laws. But you see he’s going five over the speed limit compared to his usual three, and that feels like it counts for something. Even though you’d been leading him on for the past three weeks, he’s still trying to make sure you’re happy. He’s still looking out for you.
“Thank you,” you sniffle. And you truly mean it.
His gaze stays glued to the road. "Don't mention it.”
You arrive at the photography center with two minutes to spare. Sunghoon doesn't even let you say bye, just rushes you out of the car and wishes you good luck. You don’t look back as you run inside.
You’re thankful you at least dressed nicely for the date, because everyone in here looks like they come from money. Women in floorlength gowns, men in suits you’re sure cost more than your entire tuition. These must be the donors.
The hall is filled with pictures, some simple–some you think you have to be involved in the community to understand. But even as you practically sprint down the hallway, Heeseung is nowhere to be found.
“Please make your way to the dining hall as the photography committee prepares to announce the winner of this year's $100,000 grant!” A voice rings from the intercom, and you blindly follow the crowd into the large room parallel to the hall.
It’s filled with tables, and there’s a stage right at the front of the room with a podium and a giant projector. There’s nothing on it yet, but you’re assuming that’s where they’ll show the winning portfolio.
The tables all have name cards, so you do your best to conspicuously make your way to the back where nobody will notice you standing awkwardly. Plus, from back here it’ll be easier to try and find Heeseung.
You study the crowd, looking for the familiar head of blonde hair, but you come up empty. For a second, you wonder if he’s even here. He has to be here, you think. This is everything to him.
But every time someone new walks in, it’s never him.
You rock back and forth on your feet, a nervous habit. Pretty soon all the chairs are filled out and Heeseung is still nowhere to be seen. You wonder if he’d dropped out of the contest, but that still wouldn’t make any sense. Why would he drop out when photography was so important to him?
You reach for your phone, half tempted to call him and ask where the hell he was, but the lights dim and the president of the photography committee walks up the podium. She’s an older woman, with pin straight grey hair and huge glasses. She has to pull down the microphone to match her height. Heeseung used to joke that even though she looked like she belonged in a Disney movie, she was the toughest mentor he’d ever had.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she starts, voice light. “We had many great admissions this year. All of which I personally took the time to look through, and let me tell you, there was some tough competition. I almost threw up my hands and gave the money to everyone!”
The crowd laughs at that, but you can tell it’s just them being polite. “But, unfortunately, we can’t do that. So, after many sleepless nights and lots of talks with the committee, I was able to come to a decision. This year's winner is someone I think has put in more effort into his photos than anyone else I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with. He’s not naturally talented, no, but he’s dedicated. He takes risks. He tries new things and doesn’t shy away when they don’t work.”
The projector begins to come to life. “As you know, this year's theme was muse. The participants were meant to find a singular person and put together a portfolio of said person.”
The first photo flashes against the screen–and your breath catches in your throat. It's you. But it’s not the ones from the park, no, it’s you in class. Your pencil is in between your lips; brows scrunched together the way they always are when you get frustrated. You’re not wearing any makeup–hell, you look like you just rolled out of bed!
Your breath catches as the photos continue. Some of you in class, in the diner, at that God forsaken party. All pictures that look old and new at the same time. You can tell some are from after this entire mess started, when you and Heeseung started to actually enjoy each other's presence. You look happier in those ones.
But there’s some from before too–when the only times you ever thought about Heeseung were when you were thinking about how much you can’t stand him. Those ones are mostly you in class, all of them shot from the same angle. There’s a few of you from group hangouts, and you wonder how you never noticed him taking them. Maybe it’s because you’re just so used to seeing him with his camera that you stopped noticing it entirely.
It’s the last photo that really gets you though. It’s from the park, you’re sitting in the grass, head tilted to the side, lips curling up into a soft smile. You’re looking into the camera–or, behind it actually–directly at Heeseung, and the look in your eyes is enough to knock the breath from your lungs.
You look like you’re in love.
“This year's winner–though I doubt anyone's surprised–Is Lee Heeseung!”
You barely register her words, because all you can see is Heeseung walking up onto the stage. So that’s where he was, you think.
He’s wearing a suit, though it doesn’t look nearly as nice as everyone else's here. His dirty blonde hair is actually styled for once, and his lips are curled up into a small smile. But it’s not the one you’re used to seeing. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, doesn’t make his face light up like it usually does. Despite winning, he looks almost sad.
He gives a small bow at the podium, shaking hands with the Committee President. He looks nervous as he comes up to the mic, and you squeeze your hands together. Does he want you here? Should you try and make your presence known?
You are the girl in his photos, after all.
“Wow,” he starts, voice shaking slightly. “This is…an honor. Really. I didn’t go into this contest thinking I would win. In fact, I wasn’t going to enter at all. Not until I realized I’d already accidentally found my muse.” He laughs then, but it’s short. “I entered for selfish reasons. Not for the money. Not so that I could get my photos in international shows. But, because I wanted an excuse to get closer to her.”
His eyes scan the crowd, until finally, they land on you. His eyes widen for a moment, lips parting in shock. For a moment, you think he wants you to leave. You wouldn’t blame him if he did.
But he smiles. Really smiles. “None of this would’ve been possible without her.” He continues now, voice more confident. “These photos would’ve sat tucked away in my camera forever. But she made me confident. She reminded me of why I love photography in the first place. So, I’m dedicating this grant to her. To my muse.” His eyes find yours again. “My [Y/N].”
You don’t get a chance to go up to Heeseung until after all of the sponsors have congratulated him, which admittedly takes a lot longer than you think either of you would like.
You can see him on stage, shaking hands with people who you assume must be important. He never keeps his eyes on them for too long. Instead, they trail over to you, like he’s hoping he’ll be able to communicate with you through eye contact.
By the time you can actually speak to him, the hall is mostly empty aside from a few stragglers. He approaches you with caution, like he’s scared of getting too close.
“Hi,” he breathes, stopping a few feet in front of you.
“Hi,” you say back.
The air is softer than it had been the last time you’d seen him. Then, it was harsh. Like smoke filling into your lungs. Now, it feels like a breath of fresh air.
You’re both silent for a moment, like you’re unsure of what to say to each other.
“I broke it off with Sunghoon,” you say eventually, eyes falling to the floor.
He blinks. “You did?”
“I did.”
“Okay.”
More silence.
“You took pictures of me,” you observe.
“I did.”
“Why?”
He laughs, a full hearty sound, like he’s caught off guard by the question. You don’t know why he would be. You think it’s a perfectly fair thing to ask.
He shrugs, “I felt inspired by you.”
You raise a brow at that. “Inspired? By what—me chewing my pencil like a child?”
He grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. I was inspired by how I felt when I looked at you.”
That makes you pause. “What?”
He fiddles with the corner of his pocket, thumb grazing it once before darting away. He sucks in a deep breath, and then finally, he says everything you know he’s been holding back.
“I’ve been in love with you since we were six years old,” he starts. “Ever since I watched you stay up the entire nap time because Jungwon couldn’t fall asleep. I knew right then and there that I loved you and that I was going to continue to love you for as long as I knew you.”
You can’t help the way your eyes go glassy, heart thumping a million miles an hour in your chest. “Heeseung…”
He doesn’t let you finish. “But I was shy—well, scared is more like it—I was scared that you weren’t going to want to be my friend and I would never be able to be around you.”
“Why would you think that?”
He shrugs, “why does a third grader think anything?”
You don’t have a reply for that.
He sighs before continuing. “After that it just…became a thing. Our thing. I annoyed you and therefore I got to keep being in your life. Even if it wasn't what I wanted, I figured it was better than not being around you at all.” He swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “But then we got to university and you met Sunghoon and I felt you slipping away from me, and I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought that maybe…maybe it was time for me to let you go.”
Your heart cracks at the strain in his voice, like he’s recalling a bad memory.
“So, I’m sure you can imagine my surprise when Jake came home and started asking me a million questions about our apparent relationship.”
“Oh, God,” you laugh, shaking your head at the memory. At the time, it’d genuinely felt like the end of the world. Now, you really can’t imagine where your life would be without Yunjin's lie.
For starters, he probably would’ve never told you this, and you would’ve gone your entire life chopping up your relationship to nothing but a high school rivalry that didn’t have any deeper meaning. You would’ve never found out he felt this way—or that you feel the way you do.
“It was good,” he starts again, “pretending. Even though it wasn’t really pretending for me. And then we went to that diner and I just…I got scared. I didn’t want to hold you back from what you really wanted. I thought, she’s hated me for years, at least now she’ll have an actual reason. And I wanted to be okay with that. I really did.” He takes a step closer. “But now you’re here. And I think I know why, but I’m getting tired of assuming things, princess. So, I think you’ll have to tell me.”
You suck in a shaky breath, your own hands fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously. “I…tried. With Sunghoon. I thought it was what I wanted, the easiness of it all. He was kind and he made bad jokes and I thought I was content with that.”
You roll your eyes, “But then you happened.” You say it like it’s an insult, but you both know it’s not. “And every time I was with him all I could think was how his car didn’t have that mysterious dent in the front. How he didn’t let me play pop music and pretend he wasn’t singing along when we both knew he was. How he didn't make me feel like I actually meant something to him.”
Your eyes find his for the first time since he approached you tonight. “All I could think about was how he wasn’t you.”
For a brief second, the only noise between the two of you is your breathing and the faint hum of people around you. Heeseung's lips part, his Adam's apple bobbing as he takes in your confession. He’s silent for so long you nearly think you overstepped.
But then he’s taking a step towards you and cradling your jaw with his hand. You don’t move away.
“I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” He says, and the familiarity of his words brings a smile to your face.
“Okay. I trust you.”
And then his lips are on yours.
This kiss is different from the first one. It’s not hungry, not a performance for anyone else. This kiss is solely for you, for the love you’ve found and never plan on losing. It tastes like him and feels exactly like coming home.
His thumb rubs the apple of your cheek, his lips moving against yours slowly. He doesn’t use tongue, but you don’t need him to.
When you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours and brings his hands down to your waist. They feel heavy against you, like a claim you never knew you needed.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he murmurs.
You giggle, bringing your own arms up to wrap around his neck. “Have you?”
“Yeah,” he responds, “along with…other things.”
You raise a brow at that, “yeah? Like what?”
That’s exactly how you end up back at his apartment, his lips moving against yours like he’s trying to memorize your body with them. Jake and Sunghoon are out thankfully, which means you’ve got the entire apartment to yourself.
Heeseung leads you blindly to his room, never once turning away from you or attempting to look where he’s going. You laugh as he trips over the carpet, but he swallows it with his mouth on yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he says against you. You don’t even notice you’ve made it into your bedroom before your legs hit the mattress and suddenly, he’s pulling you down onto it. “Been waiting so long to have you like this.”
“Yeah?” You manage to say, your voice airy. “Show me, then.”
He pulls back for a moment, eyes looking directly into yours, and then he’s moving his lips to your neck. He leaves wet kisses down the column of your throat, your shoulder, sucking marks into the delicate skin of your collarbone.
His teeth graze a particular spot at your neck that makes you gasp, and he processes the noise with a slight groan of his own. He bites down on the spot–not hard, just enough for your back to arch and your fingers to find purchase in his hair. Your legs wrap around his waist as his tongue shoots out to soothe the bite.
Slowly, he brings a hand up to the strap of your dress, his fingers slipping under it but never pulling down.
“Hee,” you practically whine, “please.”
He grins, and then he pulls the strap down ever so slowly. You know he’s teasing you, and the thought makes heat pool between your legs.
Once the dress is off, he throws it to the side and sits back on his heels so he can stare at you. You still have your underwear and bra on, but the sight of your bare stomach and legs is enough for him to let out a low whistle.
“You’re so beautiful, princess,” he murmurs. The sincerity in his voice makes your cheeks hot. “So fucking perfect.”
Your lips part to respond, but he leans down and kisses you again. This kiss is different from all the others. It’s messy and deep and pulls noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make.
He sucks on your bottom lip once, and then he pulls away and leaves kisses all down your body. Down your neck, your cloth-covered breasts, your stomach, all the way down until he leaves one final kiss at your ankle.
He seats himself at the edge of the bed and ever-so-gently pulls you down so your legs hang over the edge of the bed and your cunt is level with his face. He stares at it for a long moment, at the wet patch growing on the lace. At your pretty white panties.
Your hands fist the sheets, legs nearly closing on instinct, but he just pushes them over his shoulders and keeps you open for him. “Don’t hide from me,” he mumbles. His hand slowly trails up your thigh until it finds the edge of your underwear.
He keeps it there for what feels like forever. Never touching. Just looking.
“Please,” you whimper, “please touch me.”
He grins, “yeah? Want my mouth on you, baby?”
You nod, hips rolling against nothing. “Yes, fuck, please.”
That seems to finally break him, because he licks one large stripe up your cunt through your underwear. You gasp at the feeling, your back arching slightly.
He continues licking small kitten-licks over your panties, and the mixture of his saliva and your arousal begins to turn the cloth nearly translucent.
He groans like the taste of you is his favorite meal. “You taste so good,” he murmurs against you, “like heaven.”
You bite your lower lip to keep yourself from crying out when his tongue catches your clit, and then he brings his hands up to your waist and pulls your underwear down your legs. You don’t miss the way he stares at them for a second before letting them drop to the floor.
He spits on your cunt, watching the way his saliva drips down your slit before he sucks your clit into his mouth.
You cry out at the feeling, your toes curling at his back. He groans at the taste and brings his hands up to your hips, gripping them and keeping them still.
“Fuck,” you moan when he brings his tongue down to your hole, collecting the arousal there like it's his own personal ambrosia.
“All this is for me, right?” He questions, trailing a hand down and rubbing his thumb against your clit. The feeling has your head spinning. “Not for Sunghoon, all for me, isn’t that right, princess?”
You nod feverishly, his possessiveness nearly enough to make you finish right there and then. “Yours! ‘S all yours.”
He smirks, “that’s a good girl.”
And then he brings a finger to your entrance, circling over it once before letting it slip inside the ring of muscle. The air punches from your lungs at the feeling, but then he sucks your clit into his mouth again while his finger thrusts into you and you really think you’re going to start seeing stars.
“Hee–Heeseung,” you cry, “fuck!”
He hums but doesn’t stop. Instead, he pushes a second finger inside and begins to curl them upwards. You feel him hit that spongey spot inside of you and you know you’re done for.
“I’m close–fuck,”
He doesn’t work you harder, just keeps going at the pace so he can drag out your orgasm for as long as possible. “Come on, baby, cum for me. Show me just how bad you want it.”
That’s all it takes for you to release all over his face and hand. Your muscles tighten and relax over and over again, back arching and vision going white. He groans and licks up every drop, working you through it without a complaint.
You expect him to stop now that you’ve finished, but he doesn’t. If anything, he goes harder. The overstimulation begins to border on the edge of too much, and your hips buck up without your permission.
“Fuck, too much, I cant–”
He doesn’t let up. “Yeah, you can. Come on, wanna see you fall apart for me all over again.”
It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to crash over you, and this one nearly leaves your body feeling limp and your pulse to blare against your ears.
Your body is still twitching from aftershocks when he climbs up next to you, and you watch with blurry vision as he brings his fingers up to his mouth and licks them clean. He hums at the taste and then brings his hands to the hem of his shirt and slips it off.
Your eyes trail over the sight of his bare chest, noting every ridge of muscle and mole, watching the way his chest heaves slightly. He’s absolutely beautiful, like a painting you’d find at some stupidly expensive art show.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmur.
Now it’s his turn to blush. His ears and cheeks turn a slight shade of pink, but he brings his lips down to yours before you can tease him for it.
Before you know it, his underwear is off and he’s lining himself up with your entrance. He looks up to you for permission, and you nod at him.
Pressure blooms between your legs as he pushes in, but it isn’t exactly painful. It just feels like something you never knew you needed. Like he was made exactly for you.
You keen, back bowing off the bed and eyebrows knitting together. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and rests his forehead against yours as he finally bottoms out.
You can feel him kissing your g-spot, and he experimentally rolls his hips against yours once. You both groan at the feeling of you tightening around him, and then he pulls out slightly and snaps back in.
You cry out, your nails raking down his back. He hisses slightly at the sting but doesn’t make any moves to stop you. Instead, he begins to rock onto you like his life depends on it. You can feel every ridge of his cock; can feel the way it curves at just the right angle.
“You feel so fucking good,” he gasps, “so perfect. Always knew you would.”
He buries his face into your neck, his hips snapping against yours like his life depends on it.
You feel yourself getting close, but before you can warn him your back is arching and you're finishing against him.
He cries out, his thrusts beginning to turn sloppy. “Fuck, fuck, I’m–” He finishes inside you without another word, painting your insides with his cum.
You both lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. He pulls out of you with a low breath and then reaches over for something at his nightstand to clean you up silently.
You watch him as he does, noting the way he cleans up your thighs with so much care. He doesn’t rush the aftercare process either, he kisses your skin gently and murmurs sweet words against you.
By the time your thighs stop shaking and you actually feel like you can breathe without your chest caving in, he’s laying down beside you and pulling you against his chest.
You lay there for a moment, feeling the way his chest rises and falls against your back. The warmth from his skin.
“Heeseung?” You mumble.
“Hm?”
You blink, a smile curling onto your lips. “I love you.”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “I love you, too.”
And for once, you know that you both mean it.
Your mother used to say that hate was just another word for love. And right now, you know that she was right. Because what you feel for Lee Heeseung used to have everything to do with hate, but now you know it was really just another word for love.
Making out with people like them should probably come with a warning label. One second you're minding your own business, and the next you're completely distracted by the way they look at you, touch you, and make you forget every coherent thought you've ever had.
WARNINGS ◦ kissing ◦ make out sessions ◦ established relationships ◦ friends to lovers vibes ◦ romantic tension ◦ physical affection ◦ heavy kissing ◦ suggestive themes ◦ mild sexual content ◦ relationship dynamics ◦ old writing ><
4346 ━━━━━ hcs ot7!enha x fem!reader
۶ৎ 𝓜 , a moment of silence for the corniest summary i've ever wrote. thank you. if you remember this you're old 😝😝😝🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻 joking!!! just reposting this because i found it on the ancient archives (aka my dead ellipsus account) and thought it could make someone's day better lolz. very old and underwhelming old writing from your girl zerocoded. enjoyyyy s2
LHS
heeseung’s got you pressed up against the wall beside his bed, the room dim except for the shitty desk lamp in the corner, his hoodie half-off, sleeves bunched at his elbows as he leans in, his breath shaky, his lips hovering over yours like he’s giving you a chance to stop him.
you don’t.
your hands fist in the fabric of his hoodie, yanking him closer, and that’s all it takes—heeseung groans quietly, deep in his throat, and finally fucking kisses you, hard, desperate, all that shy boy bullshit out the window the second your lips meet.
it’s messy from the start, his teeth knocking into yours because he moves too fast, too eager, his hands scrambling to find somewhere to land—your waist, your jaw, your hips, gripping tight like he’s scared you’ll pull away.
you don’t.
you kiss him back just as hard, just as hungry, opening your mouth for him without hesitation, and heeseung takes the invitation gladly, his tongue sliding against yours, hot and slick, tasting, teasing.
“fuck…” he mutters into your mouth, like he can’t believe this is really happening, like he’s been dreaming about this moment for way too long.
his hands tangle in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head, deepening the kiss until you’re gasping, your chest pressed flush against his as he shoves you even harder against the wall, caging you in completely with his body.
he pulls back just long enough to catch his breath, his eyes dark, lips swollen, a cocky little smirk creeping onto his face as he wipes at the spit-slick corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.
“you’re… so hot,” heeseung pants, his voice all wrecked and shaky like he’s barely holding it together.
you grab the front of his hoodie, yanking him back down before he can say something stupid, crashing your mouth against his again, biting at his bottom lip until he moans, low and broken, grinding his hips against yours without even thinking.
heeseung kisses like he wants to crawl inside you, like he can’t get close enough no matter how tightly he holds you, his hands sliding under your shirt to splay against your bare back, dragging your body even closer until there’s no space left between you.
he makes this sound—half gasp, half groan—when you tug at his hair, and then he’s walking you backwards, blindly, until the backs of your knees hit his bed and you’re falling onto the mattress with him following right after, his mouth never leaving yours.
heeseung shifts, hovering over you, his hands braced on either side of your head as he kisses you slower now, deeper, his tongue exploring your mouth with this lazy, confident pace like he knows you’re not going anywhere.
and you’re not.
your nails dig into his back through the thin fabric of his hoodie as he leans in, mouthing at your jaw, down to your neck, sucking little bruises into your skin, pausing only to whisper, “fuck… you taste so good…” before moving back to your lips again, claiming them like they’re his.
you’re both breathless, your lips tingling, your heads spinning, but neither of you stop, not until you’re completely wrecked, tangled in each other’s limbs, lost in the heat of it all, the only thing that exists in that tiny dorm room is the sound of your mouths meeting again and again and again.
and even then… heeseung doesn’t stop.
he just keeps kissing you like he’s never going to stop.
PJS
it’s been silent for too long.
jay’s got one hand on the wheel, the other draped loosely over his thigh, fingers tapping an erratic rhythm that betrays how tense he is beneath all that calm. streetlights pass in flashes through the windshield, painting his profile in harsh cuts of light and shadow, making his jaw look even sharper, his eyes colder.
he hasn’t looked at you once since you got in the car.
you shift in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window, pretending like your chest isn’t tight as fuck, like you’re not replaying the fight in your head over and over, all the things you both said, the way his voice stayed low the whole time even when yours didn’t.
he never raises it. never needs to.
but you feel it now—the weight of all the things unsaid filling the space between you, heavier than any shout could be.
he pulls the car over suddenly, the tires crunching against gravel as he kills the engine, the sudden silence even louder than before.
you don’t move.
neither does he.
for a long second, it’s just the sound of both your breaths, rough and uneven, like you’ve both been running even though neither of you have moved an inch.
then jay shifts, finally turning to look at you, his jaw clenched, lips parted like he wants to say something but can’t. his eyes drop to your mouth before flicking back up, dark and unreadable, his fingers tightening around the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.
and that’s when you crack.
you lean in first, grabbing the front of his jacket and pulling him toward you, crashing your mouth against his in a kiss that’s all teeth and frustration and everything neither of you could say out loud.
jay groans into it, low and wrecked, his hands immediately flying to your waist, dragging you across the center console like it’s nothing, pulling you right into his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs, your chest pressed hard against his.
his mouth moves against yours with a brutal kind of precision, like he’s been thinking about this all night, all week, maybe longer—biting at your bottom lip until you gasp, then soothing it with his tongue, sliding in slow and filthy.
his hands roam, gripping your hips so tight you know there’ll be bruises later, dragging you closer as he leans back in the seat, letting you take as much as you want.
he’s still not saying anything.
he doesn’t need to.
the way he kisses you says all of it—the apology, the anger, the want.
you fist your hands in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss through his teeth, but he just smiles against your mouth, cocky and breathless, his fingers digging in deeper as he grinds you down against him.
“fuck…” jay mutters, his voice hoarse for the first time tonight, barely audible between kisses as he presses his mouth to your jaw, then lower, sucking at the skin beneath your ear until you’re shivering in his lap, your head tilting to give him more.
he bites there, sharp enough to make you gasp, then pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and dangerous under the dim overhead light of the car, his lips swollen and slick.
he doesn’t say sorry.
he just mutters, “come here,” voice rough and commanding, dragging you back down to kiss him again, deeper this time, slower, his hands sliding up under your shirt, palms hot against your skin, making you arch into him instinctively.
the windows start to fog up, the air thick with the sound of your mouths meeting over and over, with the little gasps and moans he pulls from you effortlessly.
jay’s not soft about it.
his teeth graze your throat when he drags his lips down your neck, his hands gripping your thighs, guiding you to rock against him in slow, steady rolls that make you both breathe harder, your fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth leather of the seat.
and when you pull back for air, your lips swollen, your chest heaving, jay just stares at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, his thumb brushing against your jaw almost tenderly before he leans in, catches your bottom lip between his teeth, and pulls you right back in for more.
because jay doesn’t need to ask for forgiveness.
he just needs to kiss you until you forget why you were mad in the first place.
and fuck—he does.
SJY
it starts with him pulling you into the corner of some empty hallway, his hand warm and familiar around yours, fingers laced tight like he’s scared you’ll slip away.
“just—wait,” jake says, his voice breathless as he glances over his shoulder to make sure no one’s around. his chest is rising and falling like he just ran a mile, but really it’s just from being near you, from the way your eyes keep darting to his mouth like you’re thinking about kissing him but haven’t yet.
or maybe you have, but not enough.
never enough.
he presses you back against the wall, not rough, just desperate, his palms flat against the cold surface on either side of your head, caging you in with that stupid fucking grin that he always gets when he knows he’s about to do something reckless.
“been thinking about this all day,” he admits, leaning in so close you can feel the heat radiating off him, the faintest brush of his breath across your lips.
you don’t even get a chance to respond.
jake kisses you first, hard, urgent, like he’s been holding it back for hours and just now cracked wide open.
his hands leave the wall to find your waist, dragging you closer as he slants his mouth over yours, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a low, satisfied hum that vibrates through your whole body.
you fist your hands in the fabric of his shirt, tugging him impossibly closer as his hips press flush against yours, pinning you to the wall completely as he kisses you like it’s the only thing he’s good at, like he’s got something to prove.
and fuck, he’s good at it.
his lips move with this perfect combination of softness and pressure, his teeth occasionally nipping at your bottom lip just to hear the way your breath catches, just to feel the way your body tenses against his.
he pulls back for half a second, just long enough to look at you, his eyes glazed and dark, a cocky little smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth as he mutters, “you’re gonna kill me…” before diving back in like he can’t stand the space between you.
jake kisses you like he’s starving, like every second his mouth isn’t on yours is a second wasted.
his hands slide up your sides, sneaking beneath the hem of your shirt to press flat against your bare skin, his touch hot and electric, making you shiver even though the hallway’s warm.
you moan softly into his mouth and he responds immediately, gripping your hips tighter, guiding them against his in a slow, grinding rhythm that makes both of you breathe harder, your bodies moving together like it’s second nature.
he pulls his mouth from yours just long enough to press wet, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, down to the spot just beneath your ear where he knows you’re sensitive, making you gasp and tilt your head to give him more.
“fuck…” jake groans against your skin, biting down gently before soothing the mark with his tongue, then trailing his mouth back up to capture your lips again, kissing you even deeper this time, more frantic, more raw.
it’s all teeth and tongue now, all messy desperation as you both lose yourselves in it, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him moan into your mouth, his hands gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.
when he finally breaks the kiss, you’re both panting, foreheads pressed together, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against your cheek as he grins, breathless and wrecked.
“you’re… so fucking dangerous,” he says with this stupid, lovesick laugh, his voice all rough and low as he leans in to kiss you one more time, slower now, softer, but just as desperate as before.
because with jake? once he starts kissing you…
he doesn’t want to stop.
PSH
he’s just sitting there on the couch, scrolling through his phone, looking all perfect and detached like usual—legs spread, one arm draped over the back, head tilted, that annoyingly flawless profile catching the light in a way that makes you want to scream.
you’re watching him from across the room, biting your lip, practically vibrating with the need for him to just look at you, to acknowledge you, to do anything. but sunghoon stays where he is, completely unbothered, scrolling like you don’t even exist.
and fuck that.
you cross the room in two strides, planting yourself right in his lap, one thigh thrown over his, your hands gripping the collar of his hoodie as you settle on top of him like you were born there.
sunghoon looks up finally, one brow raised, all casual, like you haven’t just shoved yourself into his space without asking.
“what?” he says, voice flat, unimpressed.
you roll your eyes, lean in closer, your nose brushing against his as you smirk, “thought you missed me.”
he scoffs, looking back down at his phone for all of two seconds before you grab his chin, forcing him to look at you again.
and then, just to push him, just to see how far you can get, you lean in and kiss him—soft at first, teasing, like you’re expecting him to sit there and let you, all cold and indifferent like he always pretends to be.
but he doesn’t.
sunghoon groans, low and unexpected, and suddenly he’s grabbing your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he kisses you back, all that quiet composure cracking open in an instant.
his hands slide up your thighs, gripping the soft flesh like he’s been waiting for this exact moment all fucking day, like the second you sat in his lap he decided, fuck it, no more pretending.
his mouth moves against yours with this slow, devastating confidence, his tongue sliding past your lips like he owns the place, like you’re his to kiss, to hold, to ruin.
you gasp when he sucks at your bottom lip, his teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver, and he pulls back a fraction, just far enough to murmur against your mouth, “you’re so fucking needy.”
you glare at him, about to make some smart-ass remark, but he doesn’t give you the chance—he kisses you again, harder this time, one hand gripping the back of your neck, keeping you right where he wants you as his other hand slides up under your shirt, palm hot against your skin.
your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at the soft strands as you grind down against him without even thinking, and he groans again, deeper this time, his hips shifting up to meet yours instinctively.
and that’s when you know—you’ve got him.
sunghoon kisses you like he’s been holding this in for weeks, like every second of pretending not to care has just been building up to this—his mouth hot and demanding, his hands everywhere, gripping, pulling, guiding you closer until there’s no space left between you.
you moan into his mouth and he eats it up, sliding his tongue deeper, tilting his head to kiss you from a new angle, even filthier, his lips moving with this lazy, dangerous precision that makes your head spin.
when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your lips swollen, your hands still fisted in his hoodie like you’re afraid he’ll go back to pretending he doesn’t care.
but sunghoon just smirks, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he says, “you really couldn’t wait, huh?”
and then he leans in, kisses you again, slow and possessive, like he’s not done with you yet—not even close.
KSN
you don’t know how it always ends up like this—sunoo standing there, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, head tilted, smiling at you like he knows every single dirty thought you’re having and is enjoying the fact that he’s not giving you any of what you want.
“what?” he asks, all fake innocence, batting his lashes like he’s not fully aware of how close he’s standing, how the space between you is shrinking with every second.
you roll your eyes, moving closer, your fingers brushing against the hem of his shirt as you lean in, aiming for his mouth.
but he just tilts his head, dodging the kiss with a playful hum, his grin widening as he watches the frustrated little pout pull at your lips.
“patience,” sunoo teases, his voice low and soft, but dripping with challenge as he lifts a hand, his knuckles barely grazing your jaw before trailing down the side of your neck, slow and feather-light, making you shiver.
“you’re such an ass,” you mutter, trying again, leaning in more determined this time, but he sidesteps at the last second, making you stumble a little as he laughs quietly, his eyes sparkling with that familiar, dangerous amusement.
he loves this—loves watching you chase him, loves having you so worked up you can barely think straight.
“you want me to kiss you that bad?” he asks, all mock sympathy as he steps back in close, his hands finding your hips, gripping just tight enough to make you feel how strong he is beneath all that soft, pretty skin.
you don’t answer. you just grab the front of his shirt, yanking him in and crashing your mouth against his, not giving him the chance to pull away this time.
but sunoo… oh, he’s ready.
he kisses you back immediately, his mouth moving against yours with this infuriatingly perfect mix of softness and heat, slow enough to keep you wanting, but hard enough to let you know he’s been thinking about this just as much as you have.
his hands slide up your sides, his nails dragging lightly against your skin as he pulls you closer, his tongue flicking against yours with a teasing little hum that makes your knees go weak.
then, just as you’re starting to really lose yourself in it, sunoo pulls back, his lips barely brushing yours as he smirks and says, “that all you got?”
you glare at him, breathless and wrecked already, but he just laughs, leaning in to kiss you again—deeper this time, hungrier, his hands fisting in your shirt as he backs you up against the nearest wall.
sunoo’s mouth is relentless now, moving with this slick, practiced confidence, nipping at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go with a quiet, satisfied sigh.
your fingers bury themselves in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him groan, and he responds by gripping your waist tighter, pressing his body flush against yours as he kisses you like he’s finally had enough of teasing, like he needs you just as badly as you need him.
but even then—even as he kisses you breathless, his lips swollen and slick, his hands wandering beneath your clothes—sunoo still pulls back with that same fucking smirk, his eyes gleaming as he says, “told you… patience.”
and then he kisses you again, slower, deeper, dragging it out just to remind you exactly who’s in control.
because with sunoo… you never win.
YJW
he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, one knee pulled up, phone in his hand, completely unbothered, like he doesn’t know he’s driving you insane just by existing.
the blonde looks even better in this shitty lighting, a little messy from the way he’s been running his fingers through it while scrolling aimlessly. his hoodie’s slipping off one shoulder, exposing that stupidly perfect collarbone, and his lips are parted just slightly, soft and pink, like he’s asking for it without even trying.
you’ve been sitting on the other side of the room for like twenty minutes, pretending to be busy, but it’s useless. he’s just too fucking fine.
you stand up without thinking, crossing the room in a few quick steps, and he doesn’t even look up, just hums softly, acknowledging you without really paying attention.
so you take his phone right out of his hand, tossing it onto the bed beside him before straddling his lap in one smooth, confident motion.
that gets his attention.
“what—” jungwon starts, his voice all soft and confused, but you cut him off by grabbing the strings of his hoodie, yanking him closer as you crash your mouth against his.
he freezes for a second, completely caught off guard, but then his hands find your hips, gripping tight as he kisses you back, just as hungry, just as desperate.
your fingers slide up into his blonde hair immediately, tugging at the soft strands as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss, your tongue slipping past his lips with a low, breathless moan.
jungwon groans quietly, his hands squeezing your hips as he pulls you closer, his hoodie riding up as your bodies press flush together.
“fuck…” he mutters against your mouth when you tug his hair a little harder, his breath hitching as you start rolling your hips down against him, slow and teasing.
his grip tightens, his nails digging into your skin as he tries to keep control, but you’re the one leading this—you’re the one taking what you want.
you pull back just enough to look at him, to see the way his pupils are blown wide, his lips swollen and slick from the kiss, his chest rising and falling in these shallow, uneven breaths.
“you’re so fucking hot like this…” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, messing it up even more, just because you can.
jungwon lets out this wrecked little laugh, shaking his head as he pulls you back in, kissing you again, slower this time, but deeper, more deliberate, like now that you’ve started it, he’s not about to let you stop.
his hands slide up your back, under your shirt, palms hot against your bare skin as he holds you close, his mouth moving against yours with this perfect mix of soft and rough, teasing but demanding.
he pulls back for a second, his forehead resting against yours, his voice all low and breathless as he says, “you’re crazy…”
but he’s already pulling you back in, already kissing you again like he can’t help himself, like he needs this just as badly as you do.
and you lose yourself in it—fingers tangled in his blonde hair, his hands gripping your waist, the two of you tangled up on the edge of the bed, kissing like you’ve got nothing else to do and nowhere else to be.
NRK
he doesn’t sit down—of course he doesn’t. that’d be too easy.
instead, niki braces one hand on the desk beside your laptop, leaning down so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, his other hand sliding up to brush a stray piece of hair behind your ear like he’s being sweet.
but his eyes tell a different story.
“you’re really gonna keep working?” he asks, his voice low, smooth, that signature smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he tilts his head, waiting for you to break first.
you try to hold your ground, fingers still poised over the keyboard, but then he leans in even closer, his mouth barely brushing against your jaw, sending a shiver straight down your spine.
“you’re not even paying attention…” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your skin, moving from your jaw to your cheek, then finally hovering just over your mouth.
you can feel him smiling.
that cocky little grin that always means he knows he’s already won.
“niki…” you warn, your voice shaky as you try to turn back to the screen, but he blocks you easily, sliding his hand from the desk to your chin, tilting your face toward him so you can’t look at anything but him.
“just a kiss,” he says, all faux-innocent, his eyes glinting with that playful challenge. “then you can get back to whatever…” he trails off, leaning in until his lips brush against yours, feather-light, barely there.
you inhale sharply, your resolve crumbling as he pulls back just an inch, eyes locked on yours, waiting.
and then you’re the one surging forward, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him in, crashing your mouth against his in a kiss that wipes every coherent thought from your brain.
niki groans quietly, his hand sliding from your chin to your neck, gripping just tight enough to make your pulse spike as he kisses you back, slow and deliberate, his tongue slipping past your lips like he’s got all the time in the world to fuck with you.
his body crowds yours completely, his hips pressing subtly against your chair as he deepens the kiss, his free hand finding your waist, fingers curling into your shirt like he needs to keep you anchored there, close, completely his.
you fist your hands in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him even closer as he tilts his head, changing the angle of the kiss, making it messier, wetter, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth with a low hum of satisfaction.
he finally pulls back just enough to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours as he laughs softly, that stupid smug grin plastered all over his face.
“see?” niki whispers, his voice rough now, breathless. “way better than working.”
you glare at him half-heartedly, but your lips are already tingling, your pulse racing, your hands still gripping his hoodie like you’re not ready to let him go.
and niki knows it.
he leans in again, kissing you one more time, slower, lazier, dragging it out just to prove that you’re his favorite distraction, that he could keep you like this all day if he wanted to.
and honestly?
you’d let him.
author's note — ik this is cringe af but idgaf. i actually can't remember writing this lol, but i remember jay's was my favvvv. thank you for reading!!!
.𖥔 ݁ SYNOPSIS . after getting publicly broken up with because of a misspread rumor, you move away to "heal" and "start over". when you come back after months and see your ex and said person—who spread those rumors about you—getting closer each day, you realize maybe you shouldn't have ever come back. and it definitely doesn't help when your ex starts giving you mixed signals about everything.
PAIRING ex!jake x fem!reader
FEATURING aespa ningning, riize shotaro, nct haechan, le sserafim yunjin +enhypen
TAGS smau (+written) ; crack ; university au ; lots of miscommunication ; dumbass jake ; cringey moments ; cliche ; 𝓦 none that I can think of other than suggestive comments?
CHAPTERS
01 ⟶ SHAWTY'S BACK
02 ⟶ THE FUMBLER
03 ⟶ RIKI JACKSON
04 ⟶ CHILD OF DIVORCE
05 ⟶ ACCUSATIONS W/ INSANITY
06 ⟶ COMPANY
07 ⟶ MOMENT OF REALIZATION ✎ 2.5k
mars yaps . WELCOME BACKKKKKK new story yes sir🫡. disclaimer . this is a work of fiction, please don't take this seriously, the characters in this story are not how they are in real life (at least not that we know of).
taglist ⪩. .⪨: if you want to be tagged in the series to be updated every time I post a chapter, leave a comment!
diet pepsi ⸺ camp counselor!jay (sounds to scenes collection)
( ★ ) ⸻ jay spent the entire summer pretending that he wasn't into you. ignoring every single one of your advances, because it made sense. you were younger. he was leaving. it just wouldn't work out. avoiding you just made the most sense. until he's letting himself slip on your last night together and he's quickly realizing that he's made a huge mistake.
۶ৎpairing: mentor!jay x mentee!reader ۶ৎgenre: heavy angst... smut. summer camp au. age gap (reader is 18, jay is 24). established relationships. ۶ৎtw: smut (mdni!) descriptive making out, loss of virginity, mutual pining. unexpected heeseung closure. fingering, dry humping. slight dirty talk. unresolved feelings. cortis!martin makes an appearance. bnd!jaehyun. car sex. subtle masturbation (m.), relationship ending. gone the next morning... post sex abandonment? unprotected sex (not in this economy pls). ۶ৎwc: 16.5k+
⸻ playlist | diet pepsi. addison rae, bound. the ponderosa twins plus one, late night talking. harry styles, electric love. borns, love grows (where my rosemary goes). edison lighthouse, tenerife sea. ed sheeran, perfect places. lorde, bad habit. steve lacy, get you. daniel caesar ft. kali uchis, summertime sadness. lana del rey, vienna. billy joel, the scientist. coldplay.
by the time the sun was setting, camp barely looked like camp anymore. the campers that had spent the past three months running from cabin to cabin had been picked up hours ago. said cabins cleaned up and empty, ready for the winter that slowly crept around the corner. the lake was still. for the first time all summer, there wasn't a schedule to follow, no activities, no headcounts. no one asking where the arts-and-crafts supplies were. you and the eleven other counselors were the only ones left, closing out the summer with a well deserved bonfire barbecue.
martin, sakai and jaehyun dragged picnic tables to the beach before setting the folding chairs up to surround the fire, while jungwon set up his speaker, viv and lex arguing about whose playlist should be shuffled. the smell of charcoal hung heavy in the air as heeseung started up the grill, expertly cutting thick pieces of beef while brin stole bites directly off the serving tray.
he's rolling his eyes the third time her tongs chase his, “those are for everybody,” he grumbles, she nods with a grin – pushing a big piece past her lips. “mhm!” she's reaching for another piece, but he's nudging her away with his hip. she easily reaches around him, popping the pork into her mouth before he can steal it back. “brin.” he tries to sound stern, but the natural softness of his voice never leaves him. “you've eaten like a full cow by now,” he jokes and she grins wide up at him, shoulders lifting in a shrug.
“put more on,” she says simply.
mindless chatter is heard all throughout the beach, a red solo cup clutched in every hand. sunoo is stationed behind a folding table he deemed the bar, two coolers hidden underneath filled with juice and several bottles that had been hidden for the better half of the summer and an obnoxious amount of fruit. mia argues as he hands her drink over, “you shouldn't eyeball vodka,” she nags and he's snorting out a laugh. “it literally won't matter in ten years, just drink.” he encourages, repeating what had become his mantra these last few days.
and no matter how scary that sounded, he was right. all the moments that seemed huge, everything that made you cry, smile, laugh – most likely wouldn't even matter ten years from now. but that's what made every last moment that much more special, what made the goodbyes that you all knew were looming that much more devastating. because despite promising to stay in touch, you all knew that this was all temporary and in ten years, everything would be so different. you all would be completely different.
you sit close to the fire with the other girls as the chaos settles, slowly rotating a marshmallow over the flames. the heat warming the bare skin of your thighs left by the dress you picked this morning. subconsciously putting more thought into your appearance, knowing what tonight meant. it was the last night, yes, but it always was a last chance. so you’re choosing the strapless dress that hugged your frame, a bright orange with pretty pink flowers scattered over it, the colors seeming to pop against your sun-kissed skin.
you hoped you looked as pretty as you felt and that a certain someone took notice, the moment he's drifting into your thoughts – your eyes shift to where he stands. leaning casually against one of the surfboards, head tipped back as he laughs at something jungwon said. jongseong park. jay. you remember reading his name on the welcome sheet on your very first day, the man in charge of the music lodge and all of the instruments inside. your mentor for the next three months and the man who you'd be replacing at the end of the summer when he left for grad school.
that's what he was introduced to you as, but after meeting him, after spending every single day with him for the last ninety-two days, he had become so much more. he was funny, smart, kind, generous and extremely talented. the kids loved him, looked up to him and he gave them a good reason to with how patient and encouraging he was with every last one of them. he was an all around good guy and him being without a doubt the hottest guy you've ever laid eyes on only added to that.
jay was sexy without even trying to be, from his facial expressions to the way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, everything he did seemed to draw you in. and god you were so bad at hiding it. from day one, you couldn't keep your eyes from finding him in the crowd, couldn't mask the insistent blush of your cheeks or the way giggles would slip past your lips before you could even think twice.
and the craziest part of all of it, was that he also seemed interested in you. you never missed the way the touches would linger, the way his eyes would drop to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. you've even caught him watching you from the pier one night when you and the other girls went out for a late swim. but you never once made a move, just treaded dangerously close to the line and it all but drove you insane.
“you're drooling,” you hear from beside you and your body startles, nearly dropping your marshmallow into the fire. viv laugh besides you, leaning into your shoulder as she does. you can already feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “no i'm not,” you uselessly defend and she nods as if she actually believes you, “why don't you go say something?” brin makes an attempt at whispering, leaning across viv to look at you.
you feel the anxiety blooming in your chest before she's even finishing her sentence, “are you crazy!?” while you were like 89% sure jay also thought you were cute, there was still that 11% chance that he was just being nice. and you were terrified by that 11%. viv lifts her drink to her lips, taking a big gulp of it before she's setting in the sand, deciding she was done with it. “he leaves tomorrow... forever.” she reminds with a pointed look. “and then in ten years, none of this will matter...”
as if he could sense he was being talked about, jay's eyes drift in your direction. not even half surprised that he caught you and the other girls staring, it sort of been the theme of the summer. and the way he wiggles his fingers in a slight wave makes everything worse, because you're gasping, marshmallow actually hitting the ground as laughter erupts between your friends.
the night stretches just like that, conversations bouncing between you, drinks and food being passed and lingering stares between you and jay that everyone else pretending they didn't notice. by the time the sky was dark and the stars were twinkling, everything seemed to settle. the feeling of finality that everyone had been avoiding thickening with each flicker of the fire.
“i can't believe i won't be back here next year,” heeseung says, earning a chorus of loud eye rolls from each of you. he's only mentioned it a trillion times in the past three months. “oh my god, wait! it's your last summer!?” lex fakes a gasp that has laughter spreading, heeseung lifts his middle finger in her direction while brin slaps at her shoulder playfully. “cut him some slack, he's been here since they filled the lake.” she teases.
jungwon is quick to interject, a smirk playing on his lips. “nah, that was jay. he poured the water in himself, one cup at a time,” he punctuates his words with a tip of his own cup, letting the last few drops of his liquor hit the sand. “seriously, though, we're going to miss you guys.” sakai starts and you can already hear the quiver in her tone. “it's going to be so weird not smelling brin making bacon before sunrise, or hearing jay fighting with the kids for hiding his drumsticks, no more heeseung waking us up past midnight for ramyeon...” her lips form a pout before she can even finish her thought and you're reaching over to hug her.
“aw.” martin coos, setting down his drink before clapping his hands together. “think tonight calls for some goodbye speeches,” agreement is immediate and it's not long before brin is standing. she talks about her love for the camp, when she started and how close she's become with every one of you, highlighting funny moments, sad ones and ones that she swears she'll never forget. heeseung follows, starting with “i can't believe this is my last summer...” and ending with the same words, head shaking.
jay stands next and you feel the way your heart flutters for no good reason. his hand rubs at the back of his neck, teeth tugging at his lower lip as he fought to put the right words together. he looked handsome, face lit by the fire, hair dyed blond after losing a dare to one of the campers on the first week. it suited him. “i hate public speaking,” jungwon leads the chorus of boos that follow his words, pulling a laugh from him which seems to ease the tension between his shoulders.
he continues on despite the thump in his chest, despite knowing you're sat less than a few feet away, watching him. “honestly, this place has been home for a long time. i started when i was seventeen?” he ignores the groans that come from the group, out of all the counselors, he's been there the longest and he never let them forget it. “get off the stage, unc!” jungwon shouts, hands cupped around his mouth.
jay's eyes drift from the lake, over to the music lodge sitting at the edge of the camp, back to the friends he's grown closer to every summer. and then to you and the way you smile at him has him losing his train of thought for a full three seconds. “seriously, though, i've spent almost every summer here and i thought that would make leaving harder but it isn't. of course, i'll miss the campers, you guys and obviously my music room, but...” his eyes are back on yours and everyone notices the way his gaze, “i think the reason it's kind of easy is because i know everything i love is being left in good hands,” exaggerated gasps are heard around the fire.
jay does his best to ignore them, eyes never breaking from yours. his gaze said everything he had been swallowing for the past few months, mixed with the regret of not having the courage to make a move sooner. stood in his own way each and every time. “yn, i'm so relieved to know you'll be the one replacing me. you're so good with the kiddos, you're smart, funny... patient and creative... way more organized that i've ever been. thank you for making leaving a little bit easier, i appreciate you,” an unmistakable blush has settled on his cheeks and he's moving to sit, “and you look pretty in all your dresses,” the words are jumbled together, alcohol giving him just enough courage to mumble what he had been thinking every morning you walked into the music lodge.
the silence lasts for less than a second before obnoxious cheers erupt through the group. “better late than never!” jaehyun whistles, while sunoo claps wildly beside him. apparently, he had mentioned it to everyone but you the way they were reacting like it was this long awaited thing. it was. you ignore the flutter in your chest long enough to thank him. you can't stop replaying the last three words of his speech: 'all your dresses'. all like every one of them? which meant he had noticed every one. and he thought every one was pretty.
and he waited until the night before he was leaving to say something about it. bittersweet wasn't even the word.
the rest of the evening passes in a blur. all of your crowded around the fire, reminiscing and sharing secrets. it has the expected warm feeling the end of summer would, but you can't seem to fully enjoy it with the way your eyes keep drifting to jay. as the hours tick on, the group starts to break apart around the beach. heeseung and martin had volunteered to get more drinks and jay had hopped up to help, since then the three of them had been seated at the table a few feet away. they're talking quietly but you don't miss the not so discreet way one of them would point in your direction.
viv and mia only make it worse, shoving and hitting your arm wildly when jay finally stands to head toward the coolers. “okay, okay. go now.” you hear one of them say, nearly shoving you off of your chair. and you don't miss the kissing noises they make as you're walking away.
the coolers sit near one of the set up of kayaks that jaehyun swore he'd get put away before sundown. it was ten pm. jay is already crouched beside one when you approach, pushing aside melting ice as he searched for another drink. “hi,” your heart is pounding so rough against your chest, it's all you can muster. you catch the way his hand stills, body stilling for just a second before he's shaking it off – pulling two wine coolers from the ice before standing to face you. he hands one over with the prettiest of smiles.
“hey.” he says through one of his nervous laughs you've gotten so familiar with.
“i liked your speech,” it's all you can think of saying because it's all you can think about. his gaze drops to the sand, a hand lifting to rub at the back of his neck. and for the first time all evening, all summer even – jay actually looks embarrassed. the past three months, you've been the one blushing, the one caught staring, you've been so sure you've been making a fool out of yourself with your loud crush. when it reality, he's been noticing you this entire time too. he was just so much better at hiding it.
his shoulders lift in a slight shrug, “i was just being honest.”
“honest? you were flirting with me,” you accuse playfully and that has his cheeks going pink. “oh my god,” he laughs and it's a real pretty one, it has a smile lifting on your lips almost immediately. his eyes find yours for a moment, but he's quickly finding something else to focus on. and then he's slowly coming back, allowing himself to actually look. his stare is so intense that it has you shifting, searching for something to say, anything to fill the silence. your lips part, but he's beating you to it. “i meant it. i really like you, yn. but...”
he's getting ready to reject you, you can just tell. jay didn't like loose ends and despite all the quiet glances, subtle flirting that you're now just realizing was flirting, he was still leaving in the morning. he was starting a whole new chapter of his life and there could be no maybes left behind. so he needed a clean break. you're interrupting him before he has the chance. “and you said i was pretty in all my dresses. you know, i knew you were staring every morning... you'd always act like you were look at your bon jovi poster,”
jay is letting out a low laugh, “it's a nice poster!” he defends. “but yeah, it was you.” it feels so weird to say out loud, he had been so careful all summer and admitting that he had been admiring you this whole time didn't feel like him. “you looked good in every one. extremely distracting by the way.” he's twisting the cap off of his drink as he speaks, taking a long sip from it.
and you realize why he's not holding back anymore, the semi permanent flush of his cheeks and glossy look in his eye. “every one?” you prompt with a grin, following his lead and taking a sip from your drink too.
he nods without a moment of hesitation, “all of them.” the confidence in his voice catches you off guard, because this was jay we were talking about. the same jay that spent three months carefully putting distance between you every time you got too close. who would find excuses to rush away whenever you'd start flirting with him. the same jay who'd look away whenever you caught him staring, spouting off nonsense facts about bon jovi instead of saying what he truly wanted to.
that jay was looking at you through hooded eyes, gaze dragging over the curves of your body. and a lazy smile stretches on his face that makes your stomach twist. he's nodding his head as if he's confirming a question he had asked himself. “yeah, all of them.” he says quietly. “the long blue one with the slit on the side,” your lips part slightly, the exact morning flashing in your mind. it was only the third day and he called you in early to do one final sweep before the campers were arriving later that day. you remember just throwing the dress on, annoyed that you were up before sunrise when everyone else was sleeping in.
“you remember that?” he's nodding before you're even done speaking. “yeah, you wouldn't stop giving me attitude all day.” he's laughing with a shake of his head. he's taking a step closer, turning so he's facing you fully and you feel your stomach twist. “the white one you wore to the talent show,” he continues, lip tucked between his teeth. he had stood on the other side of the room the entire show, barely speaking two words to you when it was over.
“and...” his head tilts slightly, eyes dragging over you in the way that makes it so painfully obvious that he's been forcing himself not to look at you all summer. he's grinning. “the short orange one you're wearing now,” you actually feel the way your brain short-circuits, eyes wide as your jaw drops. it's usually the other way around, you coming onto him and him ignoring you. so now that the roles were reversed, you have no idea what to do with yourself.
“okay, stop.” you're laughing, hand lifting to slap his shoulder. “what? i can't compliment you? you compliment me all the time.” you shake your head quickly, “tit's different when you do it. especially now.” you point out and jay goes quiet, because he knows you're right. it is different. everything is. summer was over, all the campers were gone, he was leaving tomorrow morning and everything just felt... heavier?
before either of you can say anything else, a scream cuts across the beach. both of you turn at the sound to find sunoo pealing his shirt from his body, sprinting toward the water. “LAST SWIM OF THE SUMMER!” he shouts as he runs. chaos breaks out within seconds, your friends abandoning their drinks and kicking off their shoes. shirts and shorts fly through the air as they reveal the swimsuits they'd been wearing all night.
the firelight flickers across the beach as everyone runs toward the lake. viv jumps on jaehyun's back, his hands clutching her thighs as he runs. jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have already started climbing up a nearby cliff. mia and heeseung are in search of a beach ball. it's so obvious that everyone was trying to drag out time, trying to cram in as many 'lasts' as they could before morning was rolling in and all of this was ending.
you're smiling, gaze shifting back to jay. and you find him already look at you, he smiles brightly before tapping his bottle against yours, tipping it back and swallowing the rest down. you do the same. his head tilts toward the lake once you're finished, brow lifted slightly. “race you,” he's running off before you can even register what he's said, bottle ditched somewhere in the sand and you're quick to follow behind him.
jay's laugh is loud and unrestrained as he runs into the water, pulling his shirt over his head in the process. you've never heard him laugh like that, ever and it's incredibly contagious. your dress joins the liter of clothing at the shoreline as you rush in. the lake is freezing and you're squealing the second it hits your legs. jay turns to face you, he's already fully submerged himself into the water and he's reaching a hand out to you.
“you gotta jump right in,” you've been saying that to him all summer. the irony is funny to you. still, you take hold of his hand and he's easily tugging you toward him. the two of you float there, treading water and staring at each other. it's like he was getting in all the looking he had missed out in the past months. “what?” you're laughing and he's shrugging his shoulder slightly. “just remembering...” you hate the way his words make you feel. you don't want to think about it being the last night, or all the time wasted. so you splash him instead, a hard wave that soaks his hair. jay's laughing, hand pushing his hair back out of his eyes to see that you've swam away and he's quick to swim after you.
you're swimming right through the middle of the impromptu game of water volleyball, jaehyun deciding you're apart of his team and sending jay to join heeseung's side. sunoo teases mia about winning now that they had you and she had jay, she rolls her eyes before roughly serving the ball. it hits jaehyun in the chest and viv shouts from the pier for you all to be careful with her man, brin laughing beside her.
across the lake, jungwon, martin, sakai and lex have made it to the top of the cliff. their voices echo as they argue about what actually counts as a flip. martin deciding to shut them all up by launching himself off of the rock, body flipping naturally in the air whooping loudly just before he's hitting the water with a loud splash and lex follows behind him, looking less graceful but gaining a supportive chant from the girls when she resurfaces.
the game of volleyball melts into a shouting match after the first three rounds, arguments about points that nobody had been even keeping track of in the first place, sunoo swearing that he didn't cheat and heeseung and jay going back and forth about something neither of them seem particularly passion about. the beach ball floats away forgotten by both teams.
eventually, you're paddling your way back toward the dock, pulling yourself up beside viv and brin. water drips from your legs as you stretch them out in front of you, back laying against the warm wood. viv immediately scoots closer, grin wide as her eyes drift to where jay and heeseung fight to pull each other under the water. “so,” you feel the heat rise in your cheeks. “does he like you? does he want to kiss and get married and have five kids?” she's asking and you're barking out a laugh.
“yeah, right.” you roll your eyes. “we didn't say much, really. just that he liked me dresses.” you catch the way brin rolls her eyes, letting out a soft huff. “he's hopeless,” she sighs, but is quickly moving to change the subject, pointing across the lake as sakai shoves jungwon into the water before jumping off behind him. “can you believe she's going to be in charge next year?” brin had spent the past three months training sakai on how to run this place and come next year, she'd be the new head counselor.
viv is shaking her head, “wild. this is the same girl who faked pneumonia to get out of cooking duties, by the way.” you're snorting out a laugh. “i'm going to miss this,” the admission settles between all three of you. waking up and not have your friends right outside your door, no more staying up late to watch the stars. this place somehow became home without any of you noticing and in less than twelve hours it all would be over.
the dock shifts slightly, a large splash following and the sound of jaehyun's laughter. viv is rolling her eyes, kicking her foot out to him but instead of hitting him, he's catching it by the ankle. he's tugging her slightly, earning a swift kick with the other leg. he's laughing. “come here,” his thumb traces her ankle, hand slowly dragging up her calf. “i'm having a conversation,” viv says, gesturing between you and brin.
jaehyun is shrugging quickly. “you can have it in the water,” his fingers tighten around her leg, a sly grin spreading across his lips and anyone can guess what he's thinking. “jaehyun, don't.” he's looking up at her, mischief dancing through his eyes. “what? i'm just touching you. i love you. i can't touch you?” they're ignoring the gagging noises that come from beside them just like they always do.
“i can feel you–” she is not even able to finish her sentence before he's yanking his arm toward him, successfully pulling viv off of the dock and into the water. he catches her instantly, arms around her waist as her legs secure themselves around his waist. “say bye to your friends,” he says already swimming further into the water.
a few feet away, heeseung is waving both his arms in your direction. “are you two planning on sitting there all night?” he shouts with his hands now cupped around his mouth. “maybe!” you're shouting back and he's quickly shaking his head, waving you both over. “get in the water!” brin is quickly pointing at you, despite the fact her legs and hair were still dry. “she doesn't want to,”
“what!? you're still dry,” you point out. she's rolling her eyes, slipping in just as heeseung has started swimming over. you follow behind her. the group gathers together slowly, floating in the middle of the lake as conversations overlap. you're all drifting between each other, talking about plans for the next few weeks, sharing excitement for next year, worries. jungwon's group eventually get their fix of cliff diving and join the rest of you in the water. lex puling herself comfortably on sunoo's back, reaching forward to steal his drink. mia starts another argument this time with sakai about who slept in the most.
and somehow in the midst of all of this, you end up beside jay again, without even fully realizing it. at least that's what you tell yourself when your shoulder bumps against his. one moment, he's laughing at something heeseung says, the very next you're stealing his attention away, in your tiny yellow bikini that barely covers yours ass. he knows. he checked.
you're so close to him, but you're completely enthralled in conversations. laughing loudly and engaging freely. your legs brushes against his whenever a soft wave rolls through and each time neither of you move away or say anything about it. you don't realize that the two of you are floating away at first. you were listening to the others, jungwon's laugh carrying across the water as martin exposes him for never really being on duty.
their voices come and go with the ways, but slowly it seems like they're fading into the background. you shift onto your break, letting the water hold your weight as you stare up at the twinkling stars scattered across the sky. jay stays close to you, tanned skin glistening in the moonlight. his hair is wet and slicked back, dark eyes sparkling as he watches you.
“you stare a lot,” you're pointing out with a laugh.
he's quick to nod his head, not even bothering to deny it. his hands find their way underneath you, floating uselessly beneath your back as if he's holding you up – but not actually touching you. just looking for excuses to be close to you, to touch you. even if it was through the water. “you're so different tonight, i'm not used to this jay.” you're saying after a minute and jay's gaze is dragging up to your eyes.
“am i?” he's asking like it's not the most obvious thing. “yes. you're actually looking at me, complimenting me, not rushing away when i get too close. where was this all summer?” besides the time the two of you spent working together in the music lodge, there were very few times where you were alone. no matter how much you wanted to be. “i was trying really hard to be professional. i'm your mentor.”
“not anymore,” you're quick to point out and you notice the way his eyes drag down the line of your neck to to the swell of your breasts all the way down to the curve of your waist. his eyes catch the gold jewelry that dangles from your navel before he's snapping his eyes back up to yours. “not anymore,” he repeats with a nod. you feel the way the palm of his hand grazes your thigh as he floats closer to you.
you're sure the pounding in your chest can be heard by your friends on the other side of the lake. you try to appear as composed as possible. “so, what else have you been keeping to yourself?” jay's lips shift into a smirk, head tilting to the side slightly. of course you want to know what he's been thinking about you since he was first meeting you. and he's kept his cards so close to his chest up until now, it was only fair. “you want the whole list?”
your head tilts so your able to look at his face fully, eyes wide. “there's a list?”
“a long one,” he's nodding quickly. “like how cute i think you look biting your lip when you play the piano. the way i admired how easily you were able to bond with the kids in our class...” he's actually searching his mind for more things to tell you and you find that unbelievably adorable.
but still, something about all of this just doesn't sit right by you. “why'd you wait so long to say something?” he's letting out a soft sigh, stepping back slightly as his hand rubs at the back of his neck. “i'm leaving in the morning, yn. and i'm not coming back. i mean, i liked you from the start but it didn't seem smart to start something with you i knew i wasn't going to be around to finish.” it made sense. he wasn't coming back, this was his last summer before he went to start his life in new york or california or wherever life took him. this was his past now.
“and i knew you had a crush on me too, it just didn't seem fair.” he's explaining with a sigh and you're nodding, because he's right. you hated to admit it, but he was right. now you knew, though. and you still had the rest of the night. there was no sense in moping around about the fact that this would be the last time you'd see each other when you could be reveling in the time you still had.
you're shifting in the water so you're upright again. “you know, i really thought i was embarrassing myself all summer. turns out you were crushing on me just as bad,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him that has him smiling. “no, you were.” he's clarifying and you reach over to slap at his chest. “i was not! you kept a mental inventory of my dress collection,” you're pointing out.
“yeah, but i was subtle. you knocked over an entire box of guitar pics when i touched your hand,” the memory makes him smile, you were wearing a green halter dress than, hair pulled into a sleek bun. and you smelt like caramel. “okay, but-” you try to defend yourself, but he's interrupting you. “and let's not forget the time you spilled juice in your lap when i sat by you,” white dress with red and pink flowers all over it. it was ruined. rip.
you embarrassed yourself in front of him more times than you could count and there was denying that, so you don't try to. “you know what,” you're grumbling, hands pushing the water hard enough to send a large splash toward him. it hits him directly in the face, soaking his hair all over again. and you don't miss the dangerous smile on his lips as he reaches up to wipe the water from your eyes, you're already swimming away before he's opening them.
“oh, you're done.” you hear from behind you and you make the mistake of looking back, catching the way he dips under the water. he's scarily fast. you're letting out a squeal as you rush away from him. he's laughing at how easily he's able to close the distance between the two of you. and you hate this version of him. no, actually that was a lie – you hate how much you like this version of him.
this is the jay everyone else around you apparently knew about it. the one that wasn't watching every word or always stepping back. he was no longer trying so hard to keep up with this stiff image of himself, he was just being. and you hate that it took until the very last day for you to finally experience him this way. you're laughing so hard you can barely defend yourself, screaming when jay is finally catching you. “jay!” you shout as he's easily lifting you over his shoulder and tossing you behind his back into the water.
you're resurfacing quickly, jumping onto his back without a bit of hesitation. jay stumbles forward, laughing as you wrap your around his shoulders trying with all your might to get him under the water. “i'm going to fucking drown you,” the threat comes between laughs, ruined by the fact that you're barely even able to move him. “you?” he says amused, a large hand lifting to wrap around the arm you've got around his neck. “are we sure about that?” the confidence in his voice should've been your warning, but you barely have time to question it before he's shaking you off and right back into the lake.
you're bobbing to the surface with a gasp, shoving wet hair from your face as your eyes find jay standing across from you. he's bent over laughing so hard he's basically wheezing, eyes shut as he clutches his stomach and you're taking the chance. you're jumping on him before he can react, sending both of your bodies under the water. you're quick with swimming to the surface, coughing and laughing as jay wipes water from his eyes. “get over here,” his laugh follows his words, and you're instantly swimming away.
you hear the water shifting behind you. way too fast. and you're swimming straight for the rocks, planning on getting out of the water entirely and getting away from him on foot, but you're barely able to touch them when you feel his arm wrap around your waist. he's pulling you toward him swiftly, your spine colliding with his solid chest – hands braced on the rocks in front of you. you were literally trapped between a rock and a hard place. “i warned you,” his voice is right beside your ear and you're suddenly becoming painfully aware of how close you were.
you can feel the way his breathing has changed against your back, hands dropped down to your hips as he holds your body against his. his grip tightens for half a second as another wave rolls between you. you feel him shift behind you, pulling you close and you're gasping when you realize what he's doing. your ass is pressed right against his crotch, his stiffness pressing against your ass. his head tilts slightly, a hand lifting to push your hair off of one shoulder. “done running from me?” he mumbles but you can't even form a proper sentence right now.
you're nodding, breathless, pulse is racing and slowly you're turning around in his arms, hands landing on his shoulders. he looks like he's ready to devour you. hair dripping into his eyes, cheeks flushed and eyes slowly drinking you in. and for once, he's not looking away when your eyes meet. instead, he's moving in closer. your bodies shift until your back is pressed against the rolls and there is no where else for you go besides into him.
his hand lifts from your body, finger latching onto the front strap of your bikini – right between your breasts. he grins at the sound of your breath hitching, the soft gasp you let out when he's tugging you toward him. the water ripples, your chest hits his and he's backing you back against the rock before his leaning down. you can almost hear his resolve snap before his mouth finds yours and you're immediately melting into it.
overhead, jungwon is launching himself off of the cliff after successfully convincing his group to climb back up. his body rotates easily through the air, the best backflip that he's all summer and he can hear the cheer of his friends as they look up at him. and then he's catching movement, seconds before he's about to hit the water. it's you and jay, further from the rest of the group still. standing a bit too close.
he's eyes are widening when jay is lifting his hand, finger hooking into your bikini top and tugging before he's tugging you toward him. “no way,” the words leave his lips just as he's hitting the water, the splash that follows is huge but he can't even reveal in that as he fights to the surface. he swims to the edge of the lake, pulling himself out of the water as he shoves his wet hair from his face. eyes finding the two of you again, still very much kissing. and when he reaches the top of the cliff again, you're in the same spot.
martin is still standing near the edge of the cliff, sakai trying to convince him to belly flop. lex spots jungwon first, brow furrowing. “you said last jump, why you back?” he nearly slips as he rushes toward the edge of the cliff, pointing aggressively down at the water. “look.” martin follows the direction of his finger, sakai tilting her head to the side as she squints and lex crouches down slightly.
“oh my god.”
jay's groaning against your mouth and the sound shoots straight through you. his mouth moves over your swiftly, tongue pushing it's way past your lips. your brain is reeling, completely drowning in the taste of him. everything in the background just ceased to exist, you were no longer worried about tomorrow, or next summer or even your friends that were right behind you. all you could think, breathe, feel was jay.
your mouth tastes like the blueberry wine coolers you've been drinking, you smell like caramel the way you always do, and the way you feel against him is enough to drive just about anyone insane. your arms are around his neck, chest pressed to his and head tilted as your tongue is rolling into his mouth. he doesn't miss the soft whine you're letting out, the sound muffled by his mouth but his dick responds anyway. pressing firmly against you, you're shifting closer.
jaehyun sits on the dock, hands spread out beside him with viv perched between his legs. she's droning on about her new campus and her new roommate that she was so excited to meet. he's half listening, but his attention seems to drift across the water. a habit he's picked up throughout the summer, sort of like canvasing. checking where everyone had ended up, what you're all doing.
brin is floating in the water by heeseung, talking about their first summer here... six years ago. she had these atrocious bangs and braces, he still hadn't even grown into his nose. it was crazy how to two of them grew up. mia and sunoo sit at the edge of the water, legs kicking in front of them as sunoo gushes about finally being reunited with his boyfriend back home.
jungwon, martin, lex and sakai are still on that damn cliff, but instead of doing flips like they had been all night, they're crouched down staring below them. jaehyun follows their gaze and he's nearly falls over when he's seeing what they see. “oh, no way.”
“baby, i'm telling you a story.” viv says from between his legs, turning to look at her man who was clearly no longer paying attention. his hand reaches for her jaw, turning her head in the direction of you and jay. she's gasping, moving quickly like the queen of gossip he knew she was. she's waving her arms dramatically trying to catch mia's attention and it takes less than a few seconds before she's looking over.
'what?' she mouths and viv is pointing in your direction. her eyes land on the two of you instantly and she's grabbing sunoo's arm, pointing across the lake. sunoo is letting out a loud gasp, leaning forward like he's about to charge right over to you. mia is holding him back just in case. “heeseung,” jaehyun is whisper-shouting, catching the older boy's attention pretty quickly.
'look at jay.' he mouths and heeseung's brows are furrowing before both him and brin are turning around. the grin that spreads on his face can only be described as proud. finally. after three months of pining, finally. he has to hold back from applauding his friend.
jay moves like he's been starving for this. hands dropping to your thighs and squeezing roughly until you're taking the initiative and climbing onto him, legs wrapping easily around his waist. he's sucking your lip into his mouth, teeth grazing it as he presses his hips forward, effectively pinning you against the rocks. your hands have made their way into his damp hair, tangled in the strands.
neither of you have any idea that all of your friends bought front row tickets to your first kiss and it's evident in the way jay is shifting his hips forward, half hard cock pressing against him and you're pressing down just as hard. he's humming out a moan and you feel it throughout your body, heat pooling between your legs. his fingers spread against your skin, slowly sliding up your thighs.
you're pulling back just enough to catch your breath, a soft laugh falling from your lips at the dazed look in his eyes. cheeks flushed pink beneath the moonlight, lips swollen from the kiss, chest rising and falling unevenly. droplets of water fall from the hair that covers his forehead. he doesn't say anything, just stands there taking you in. the sight alone has another giggle falling from you lips and that has his gaze dropping to your lips. he's leaning in again before he can think twice about it.
“let her breathe, let her breathe!” sunoo's voice echoes across the lake and you feel jay's body go rigid against you. his eyes squeeze shut as if he's suddenly remembering where he is and the fact that it wasn't just the two of you out there. “that's it! get your man!” mia is whooping, lifting her drink the air as she cheers for you. your shoulders shake, a horrified laugh escaping you as your forehead falls onto jay's shoulder. the sound is quickly swallowed by the shouts that come from your friends.
jay is letting out a low breath through his nose. his head lifting toward the sky for a second with a shake of his head. and when he's looking back down at you, this is the first time you've ever seen him have his composure rocked. usually so calm and careful, but here he looked almost boyish? obviously blushing as the teasing from your friends filled the air. his hands stayed resting on your thighs the entire time, holding your body close to his as jungwon shouts about having seeing it happen first.
“this is so beautiful!” sakai shouts from the top of the cliff, leaning on martin as tears well in her eyes. clearly more emotional about leaving camp than she let on. martin wraps an arm around her waist before leaning forward where jay is able to see him. “look what y'all did! you made kai-baby cry.” he points down at the girl in his arms who also cried after seeing all the beds made this morning.
“kiss again!” jaehyun is shouting from the dock, earning a supportive whistle from viv. the group erupts at the suggestion, childishly chanting 'kiss' as jay stands there mortified. and you think it's hilarious, he looks so cute embarrassed, trying to hide the fact that his heart wasn't pounding and despite how badly he wanted to kiss you, he was all of a sudden feeling shy.
“come on, the first one didn't count!” brin is shouting through the chants. “how would that not count!?” jay shoots back, finally turning back to look at your friends. his reaction only fueling their chants and you can practically feel the heat coming off of him now. they're all a perfect orchestra. heeseung leads the chants, hands cupped around his mouth as cheers for another kiss. lex is leaning over the edge of the rock, sending exaggerated kissy faces your way. and brin is holding her hands up, making them kiss as her lips pucker.
and despite how desperate jay looks to escape their attention, you're addicted to peer pressure. a laugh slips past your lips as your hand is reaching down, fingers pressing against his jaw gently – just enough to turn his head back toward you. the shouting gets louder instantly. you're leaning down against instantly, mouth slotted against his and he's letting out an involuntarily groan at the feeling. the cheers that follow are obnoxiously deafening and it has your laughs dying against jay's lips.
the cold of the lake slowly becomes unbearable and one by one, you all begin making your way back toward the shore. the like that had been full of shouting and splashing just minutes ago is now quiet behind you, water still. wet footprints trail through the sand, towels stolen and half finished drinks recovered from where they had been abandoned hours ago.
you're settling in front of the fire with jay who swiftly positions himself behind you. the fire crackles in front of you, casting a warm light across the campgrounds. hair and body still wet, but you're settling further into jay's chest until going to find a towel. he doesn't seem to care much either, arm looping around your waist as he holds you close to him.
neither of you seem particularly interested in talking about what just happened, instead you just smile way too wide each time your eyes meet. you can hear brin from across the grounds, hair wrapped in a towel and a large hoodie covering her frame. she's rubbing at her stomach as she speaks. “i'm starving!” heeseung snorts as he walks past, his wet swim trunks in hand a pair of dry short hanging loose on his hips. he's digging through the coolers, without even looking up.
“we still have a bunch of meat left. should we kill it?” he suggests and brin's body immediately perks up. “say swear,” she says, taking quick steps to where he stands. he's letting out a soft laugh, pulling two unopened packets of pork belly from the ice with one hand, three packets of brisket in the other. “swear,” brin is squealing, reaching up to take the packets in hand. “see? this is why you're my favorite.” she says, leading the way toward the grill.
heeseung is rolling his eyes, but following closely behind. “yesterday you said lex was your favorite,” he points out and brin is nodding happily. her hand extends so she's able to boop the tip of heeseung's nose, he's scrunching it immediately. “today it's you.”
you spot sunoo walking toward the fire a few seconds later carrying four drinks, two in each hand. “good news,” he announces in a sing-song tone, lifting the bottles toward his face. “i found a full box,” viv and jaehyun trail behind him, stealing one of the bottles before settling on one of the lawn chairs. sunoo hands you a bottle, before passing the next one to jay and plopping down by the fire. “this is starting to feel final,” you say with a pout and you feel the way jay stiffens behind you.
“we live close! we should plan something, yn.” viv reaches her hands out to you and you're agreeing instantly. you two were only a forty-five minute drive apart, it wouldn't be hard to make plans together before next summer, it was just harder when you weren't just a few doors away. rather than across the country.
lex, mia and jungwon take responsibility for the mess they spent most of the night helping create. jungwon is already collecting empty bottles to recycle, lex is carrying a trash bag that's somehow bigger than she is, while mia complains but about everyone being pigs while she cleans up the leftover food. she's mainly yelling at martin who's pretending he can't hear her from where he still sits at the lake with sakai beside him.
they're sat near the edge of the water in the sand, sakai is wrapped in a large blanket and martin has his head resting on her shoulder, fighting the sleep that's creeping up on him. sunoo is rummaging through his bag for something, his bottle pressed between his knees as he looks. “oh wait!” he's exclaiming loud enough that it catches the attention of the people sitting closest to him.
“what?” jungwon is asking, head peeking up from the trash bag he had been separating.
sunoo is pulling a small stack of envelopes from his bag, holding them up with a wide grin. “we forgot these!” he's standing before anybody call say anything else, shuffling through the envelopes and making his way around the camp to hand them out. they're goodbye letters. you know, because you written eleven of your own. everyone had to, it was camp tradition according to brin.
but as sunoo makes his way through the group, the energy changes, you can feel it. the distribution was like a blaring indicator that it was over. eventually, you'd all have to go to sleep and face tomorrow. the fire was going to die down, heeseung was going to run out of food to make, at some point you'll run out of memories to share, stories to tell. it had to end. and you all had to say goodbye.
“i'm going to miss how you always steal my hoodies, even though you have a man.” sunoo says dramatically to viv while handing her the letter he wrote, he's shooting jaehyun a pointed look at the mention of him and then shuffling to find the letter for him. viv is taking hers with a laugh, tucking it safely beneath her leg. “and i'm going to miss pretending not to notice when you and viv disappear,” jaehyun takes his letter with a roll of his eyes, drink still pressed to his lips.
“you never pretended.” he points out and sunoo is nodding with a laugh. “because you guys are gross,” he sings before turning to continue his rounds.
by the time sunoo is dropping back down beside the fire, you've noticed a handful of your friends disappearing into their cabins and coming back with their own letters. but none of you talk about it, none of you make an announcement to pass them out, it sort of just happens.
the grill sizzles, brin stealing a piece of meat before it's finished cooking and heeseung is meeting her with an individual plate with the letter he wrote her tucked underneath it. she doesn't make a big deal out of it, takes the plate and the letter before plopping down at the picnic table to eat. jungwon complains about people not separating recyclables correctly, pulling glass bottles from the trash bag that should only be filled with food. martin is standing above him, note extended in front of his face.
“if that's another bottle, martin, i'm going to drown you in the lake. and then myself,” jungwon grumbles as he looks up, eyes finding the crisp envelope inches from his nose. he takes it quickly, tucking it into his pocket then goes right back to complaining. martin walks up, making his way back to where he had been sitting with sakai before, only now she's standing.
the blanket he had lent to her folded neatly a sad look on her face as she hands it over, the note she wrote for him resting on top. “i'm going to miss you so much,” she says through a sob and martin is chuckling softly, plucking the note from the top before grabbing the blanket. unlike everyone else, he's tearing into his note immediately despite sakai's protests. his eyes move quickly across the paper before they're slowing, taking in every written word and the meaning behind them.
sakai notices the shift, she recognizes it. “martin?” her head tilts up to get a better look at his face but he's quickly looking away, folding the note and tucking it back into it's envelope. “i'm fine,” he rushes out, wiping at his eyes with his knuckle. “let's go help clean up,”
a note seems to fall from the sky as jungwon passes, hitting your knee and landing on jay's lap. “read it away from me,” he mumbles before disappearing with his trash bag. jay is picking it up with a small smile. leave it to jungwon to literally run from any type of emotional exchange. “let me go put this away,” jay says, nudging at you leg gently and you're standing to allow him to slip from behind you and disappear into his cabin. you take the chance to slip away as well, grabbing the stack of letters you had spent the past week writing from underneath your pillow.
jay catches heeseung on his way to the bathroom, “hyung, wait.” heeseung's turning to the sound of jay's voice, eyes instantly landing on the thick envelope in his hand. “what is that like ten pages?” he asks with a laugh, reaching his hand out to take it. “it's only like seven,” he defends and heeseung is shaking his hand, tearing into the letter before jay can say anything of it.
“you know i have to read it out loud,” he says through a chuckle. jay is rolling his eyes, both hands pushing his hair back on his head as he feels his cheeks darkening. “you're so embarrassing,” he says with a shake of his head, but he doesn't fight it. heeseung would just find him and read it out loud later, he did it every summer for the past six years.
he's straightening his back and clearing his throat before bringing the note up to eye level, reading it like it's a scroll. “hyung. i tried keeping this short...” he lowers the letter to shoot a deadpan expression toward the younger boy. “seven pages?” he teases and jay is waving him off with a roll of his eyes. “just hurry up and read it,” much to his surprise, heeseung continues reading. “thank you for spending the past years putting up with me. though, i've been here longer than you... i never truly had someone to look up to until you arrived. we're the oldest, so everyone looks up to us. but i'm thankful i have you to look up to too.” jay doesn't miss the way the playfulness leaves heeseung's tone. realization that this was the last letter finally hitting him.
“i don't know if anybody else realizes how much this place has your fingerprints on it. you came up with most of the things we know call tradition, you've helped me write more songs than i can count. i even heard martin repeat one of your inside jokes his first week here... half the things the campers think have always existed started because of you, you're the blueprint.” heeseung pauses to grin because he had been screaming that for the past four years and finally he was getting the recognition for it.
the letter continues on like that, highlighting the memories they made together in the past six years, how close they've become. jay's plans for the future and how he promises to keep in touch, though, no one ever really did. but heeseung can tell that he meant it. the only difference is, heeseung was leaving too. not for the summer, forever. they both were on different paths of their lives now and seeing each other every summer was going to be a thing of the past.
he doesn't ruin the moment by pointing that out, though.
“you've been apart of almost every version of my adult life and it's going to be so hard imagining moving into my next phase without you standing ten feet away making an unnecessary comment. i don't really know how to end this, because i feel there shouldn't be an end to us. to our friendship. so i'll just say, thank you for being my friend and i'll see you soon.” heeseung looks up at jay to find him trying to look anywhere else, he's shaking his head laughing softly while flipping the pages over in his hands.
there's a few sentences scribbled on the back of the last one. “oh! there's more,” sarcasm drips from his words and jay's letting out a laugh. “i had a lot to say, shut up.” heeseung continues reading. “ps. stop giving relationship advice. even if you're right 99% of the time, stop it. your 'i told you so' face is so annoying. but, you were right again... i regret not telling yn how i feel. and i regret not kissing her when i had the chance,”
heeseung is looking up with a knowing smirk on his face, brow arched and jay is shoving at his shoulder. “that face! you're so irritating,” he says through a laugh while heeseung is carefully folding the note back up. “you kissed her, though. what changed your mind?” judging from the end of his note, it's clear that jay had no intention to actually make a move with you. but he saw the way jay kissed you in the water and how he's been all over you all night. this jay was very different from letter jay.
jay is clapping his hand on heeseung's shoulder with a shake of his head, “those fucking dresses, man.”
the night officially starts to settle around you. letters distributed and tucked away safely. the fire that had been roaring all evening has started to die down, only crackling whenever a piece of wood breaks. the loud shouts of your friends have dwindled into soft murmurs heard throughout the grounds. each one of you losing the battle against sleep, it was impossible to keep fighting it.
the food is gone, the coolers are empty. jungwon has organized every single piece of trash he could get his hands on. there was nothing left to do, there was nothing left to say. sakai and sunoo disappear first, walking into the bathroom with arms linked to do their skincare routine together for the last time of the summer. brin is a few steps behind them, yawning loudly and rubbing at her eye with the heel of her palm.
viv is curled up in jaehyun's lap, his hoodie working as a blanket as her head rests beneath his chin. every few minutes, she'll mumble something into his chest and he'll reach down to smooth a hand over her hair. jaehyun is still wide awake, talking quietly with jay from across the fire. you still sit comfortably in jay's lap but you're zoned out staring at the burning embers of the fire.
jungwon, martin and heeseung have migrated into their cabin, changed into their pajamas and laying on their beds. they talk softly, finding random things to say as they fight off the inevitable sleep. their voices drift through the open window every so often before dissolving back into sleepy laughter. across the lake, lex and mia have claimed the hammock and have been laying there with the past twenty minutes. neither of them have managed to finish a complete sentence, settling for quiet sighs and toying with each other's fingers.
jay feels you shiver against him for the fourth time and it has him realizing rubbing his hands over your arms was useless in warming you up. “you cold?” he asks, head tilting to the side so he can look at you. you're tired but you're fighting it, long curls pulled in a bun at the top of your head and pretty orange dress doing nothing against the cool night air. you're turning to look at him, head bobbing in a nod.
“i have a sweater in the car, should we...” he says it because he wants to spend more time together, that part is obvious. he could've very much you suggest you go to bed, put on warm sweats of your own and call it a night. but in reality, he wasn't ready for his night with you to end and neither were you, which is why you're standing to follow him.
the walk to his jeep isn't long, he parked close to the entrance out of his need for efficiency. he was set to leave early tomorrow morning, had spent the better half of the day loading up his car. it only made sense that it would be parked a few feet away. his arm settles over your shoulders as you walk, a comfortable silence falling over you and you're finally finding the courage to ask him what you've been wondering for the past hour and a half.
“did you forget to write me a letter?” you try to keep your tone playful, masking the echoing doubts in your mind. everyone had a letter, each passed out one by one and you watched jay hand out a letter to each one of your friends. yet, the one that he should've written for you never came. you don't miss the smile that breaks onto his features, a soft laugh falling from his lips as he shakes his head. “no, god no. i just couldn't stop rewriting it,” that peaks your interest. because, yes there must've been unspoken feelings when he sat down to write it, but actually rewriting it felt different.
it took you a good three hours to decide what you were going to say to him. everything you decided just felt too elementary, but even still you only wrote one draft. and that was the one tucked away somewhere in his cabin. “you did? how many did you write?” you're reaching his car just as the question leaves the lips and he shrugs, pulling the car door open before leaning in.
“nine.” he says it so casually, half his body in his car, your eyes are widening anyway. “nine!? you wrote me nine letters!? jay...” he's standing with a black sweater clutched in his hands. it's one you recognize right away, he's worn it enough for you to. just a simple black hoodie with 'miami' written in bold red letters, the word cut off by the deep-v cut into the neckline. he's easily pulling it over your head, guiding your arms into it.
it's such a simple gesture but it's so jay that your heart flutters. hand reaching down to find the side of his neck as he straightens the hem of his sweater against your thighs. you're gently pulling him toward you, to plant a soft kiss to his lips which he returns instantly, arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into him. “nine letters?” you're saying again as he pulls away and his face breaks into a soft smile.
“relax, you're only getting one.” he's reaching back into his car, rummaging through a bag before pulling out the folded piece of paper. number nine. the final draft of his goodbye letter to you, but it felt outdated now for some reason. still, he's handing it over to you with a sad smile. “read it later,” he feels the need to clarify, traumatized by heeseung's traditional presentation.
you're tucking the letter safely into the pocket of his hoodie and silence falls between the two of you. it's a charged silence that holds the words that neither of you are willing to say. instead his eyes stay trained on you as your eyes drift into the back of his jeep. slowly, you're stepping forward to get a better look. and the sight makes your chest tighten. boxes stacked neatly on top of one another, duffel bags shoved into every available corner of his trunk. his guitar. his backup guitar. binders upon binders of sheet music. seven years packed into the back of a car. your breath catches in your throat as you're eyes shift to look back at him, body leaning against the frame of the open car door.
“so... this is really it, huh?” jay follows your gaze, a soft sigh falling from his lips as he nods. “yeah, i guess so,” you feel the way your heart drops, which is stupid, because you had known he was leaving. for the past three months it's all he could talk about. grad school, apartment hunting, moving dates. the weather in his new city, he was never not talking about leaving. but somehow seeing it packed into the back of the car hit differently. it felt real. “it's like you fit your whole cabin into your car, looks weird...”
jay lets out a quiet laugh through his nose, hand lifting to rest just above your head against the car. “tell me about it. my cabin looks weirder, all empty.” your eyes drift back to the boxes, trying hard not to picture how his cabin would look empty. you poked your head in too many times to see if he was around to now think of the reality of him never being around again.
“you did this all day?” you say it just to make conversation, because you have nothing else to say that didn't feel totally depressing. and jay seems to catch on, because he is playing along. he nods simply, lips pulling into his mouth as his eyes drift back to you. “yeah, some of it yesterday.”
“you cried, huh?” you tease and that manages to pull another pretty laugh for him, “i absolutely did not,” he defends halfheartedly, but you're not buying it. “oh, now i know you cried. you're such a liar,” your eyes narrow up at him and that has him laughing even harder and for a second it almost feels normal again. but then your eyes are drifting back, catching sight of his guitar case again.
you're changing the subject quickly. “you know...” your voice trails off, forcing a smile on your lips. “i thought you hated me for like the first two weeks.” jay's head snaps toward you so fast it makes you laugh, his brows raised high toward his hairline. “are you serious?” he says through a laugh, your hand slaps against his chest. “yes! did you forget about how you'd avoid me? and ignore me, even if i was talking directly to you.”
he's laughing, eventually nodding along. because it was true. the first few weeks he couldn't even be around you without his brain short-circuiting and when he'd try to say something, anything – he found himself getting tongue tied more often than not. but still, “you were impossible to ignore. but, yes. i did try.” he had it in his head if he just didn't talk to you, then his feelings wouldn't grow. he was so wrong.
“you'd walk into a room and all of a sudden everyone's attention would be on you. including mine.” his eyes drop to his hoodie and how it swallows your frame, covering up one of your many pretty dresses. then slowly back up to your face, you're staring up at him with the same heart eyed expression you've been giving him all summer. “you flirted with me constantly too, even when i tried not to look your way,” you're laughing, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.
“i had a feeling it would end up being effective,” you grin and he's smiling, hand lifting to rest on the small of your back. “trust me, it was. it was all i could talk about with heeseung,” but never to you. he never gave away to the slightest bit of interest and that drove you insane every single day. it almost bothered you more that he waited until the last day to finally say something. he could've just left you clueless, able to move on and say that you tried. because you did try, so hard.
and for some reason him waiting until there was no time left to meet you halfway just didn't feel fair. the pout is forming on your lips before you can fight it, hand resting on his cheek. “i wouldn't change a second of this summer, truly. i loved meeting everyone and spending my days with you.” it's hard to ignore the sadness in your eyes, the obvious way you're fighting back tears as you speak. “but, fuck, jay... i wish we had more time,”
he knows exactly what you mean without you having to say it. you spent all summer wanting him, loudly. but every time he caught himself wanting you back, he'd find a reason to keep his distance. to walk away, to play it safe. he'd find a reason not too look too long, not too linger in conversations with you. especially if they were about your shared love for music.
he was so strategic in the way he interacted with you, careful not to let himself enjoy the way your fit lit up whenever you spotted him hanging out in his cabin. he had spent months convincing himself that this was the right way, that he was doing the right thing. the smart thing. that all of this would be easier if he kept his distance, and maybe that would've been true if tonight never happened.
because standing here now, knowing exactly what it feels like to kiss you, makes what should've been an easy goodbye feel impossible. “well,” he's saying with a soft smile, arm lifting so his wrist is in view. and you follow his gaze to the watch on his wrist. “it's only... 2:49AM. there's still five hours and eleven minutes until it's over.” he says with a proud smile, probably at his mental math and that has you laughing softly. “what should we do with that time?” his finger taps at his chin and you're tilting your head to the side.
without missing a beat, you're leaning up to press your lips against his. he's kissing back instantly. his hands fall down to grasp your hips, easily pulling your body against his. your worries about tomorrow seem to melt away as soon as his lips are on yours, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck as you hold him to you. jay kisses you with a rushed, starved almost desperate need and it makes it difficult for you to focus on anything but him.
his tongue is pushing past your lips easily, brushing against yours before he's changing his mind and catching your lower lip between his teeth instead. you're gasping, the sound pulling a soft chuckle from his mouth. it dies on your tongue. “you're so perfect,” he sighs, hand resting against the side of your face as he leans back enough to look at you. he's easily tilting your head to the side with his hand, revealing more of your neck to him.
his head is dropping to the side, soft lips finding your skin. salty from the lake but he sucks kisses against the length of it. “jay,” you're gasping, hand reaching out to clutch the fabric of his t-shirt, pulling him close. and his arm tightens around your waist, holding you tight against him as his lips roam your skin. he's focusing his lips just above your collarbone, sucking the skin into his mouth and it has your head lulling back. his body shifts, hands tracing the curves of your body before he's carefully lifting you into the backseat.
it's cramped between all his bags and boxes, and the idea of his new life. but he's climbing in behind you, letting the door slam behind him. closing the two of you in to your own private space and you're on him instantly. his back hits the door from the force of your lips, a soft laugh falling from both of your lips. you kiss him desperately, every push of your lips screaming finally and all he can do is try to keep up. he groans as your hands sneak underneath the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging over his stomach.
your tongue pushes and twists against his, his hands shoving his hoodie and your dress out of the way. his fingers spread over the skin of your ass, squeezing gently and the moan you let out has his dick jumping. jay is easily pulling you further onto him with the grip he has on your ass. it's so uncomfortable, you've got your legs on either side of his waist, he's hanging half way off of the seat, back pressed against the door. all of the crap from his cabin surround your bodies, making it that much more difficult to move. yet, he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.
not when you were hovering over him like this, panting into his mouth while pushing your ass back into the palms of his hands. “oh, fuck.” he's sighing when your lips trail down the length of his jaw, you follow the same pattern as he had before. sucking kisses into is skin, before grazing your teeth over it. focusing on a particular sensitive bit while your hips grind down onto his. a low, untamed growl catches in his throat as he feels the way your body moves against his.
the thin material of your bikini bottoms doing very little to mask the wet heat dripping from between your legs and onto his shorts. his head dips down to find your lips, mouth covering yours quickly and he wastes no time with licking into your mouth. jay's easily pulling you into a deep, needy, almost frantic rhythm that has your head spinning. you're moaning, hips pressing roughly against his. the length of his cock presses delicious against your clothed clit and your hips roll toward his, body shuddering as pleasure spreads throughout your core.
“oh my god,” you're whining into his mouth, hips moving frantically against his. he does his best to lift his hips to meet yours, fingers digging in to the flesh of your ass as heat rises up his neck. “you feel so... holy shit,” he's grunting, head falling back to rest against the door as you basically bounce on his lap. through hooded eyes, he watches the way your body moves against his. the needy roll of your hips paired with the look on your face just makes him harder.
you've got your lip tucked between your teeth, head dipped back as your hands travel up your torso. they find your breasts almost instantly and he watches as you squeeze and toy with them through fabric. he finds it hot how you refused to take off his sweater despite how much you probably want to. your hips move swiftly, pretty moans filling the cramped car as his hard length drags between your folds.
his hips lift to meet each one of your movements, using the grip on your body to press you down harder against him. every last bit of restraint has snap, he's no longer able to hold himself back. chest rising and falling in untimed breaths as a flush creeps onto his cheeks. he tries and fails to hold his whimpers back, but the way you're moving just feels too good. or he's just too sensitive, either way the pressure builds at the pit of his stomach and it's impossible to ignore.
and to make matters worse, jay can tell you're close too just from the unfocused timing of your hips and the helpless whines you're letting out. “jay,” you're gasping, fist clutching the fabric of his shirt as he watches the way your eyes roll back, your thighs squeezing together the best you can with his body between them. and he's quickly deciding he'd rather feel you cum, rather than see it.
“wait, baby... wait.” jay is shifting up, hands moving down to your thighs, stilling your movements. and he finds the pout that takes over your features especially cute, he's pressing a soft kiss to it without thinking. “i want to feel you,” he says simply. he's carefully leaning you back, your body resting against the boxes behind you as he moves to hover above you now.
his fingers sneak underneath the hem of your dress, latching onto the strings of your bottoms as his eyes drag up to look at you. you're shooting a nervous smile in his direction that has his heart softening. “is this okay?” he's asking softly, slowly tugging at the strings. you're nodding quickly, “please, jay.” you're breathing out, hips lifting off of the car seat to make it easier for him.
jay's letting out a soft chuckle before dragging your bottoms down your legs, tossing them somewhere behind him. his eyes drop down to catch the way your folds glisten, large hands pushing the hoodie and your dress up toward your belly button. “fuck,” he sighs with a shake of his head and you feel the heat rising in your cheeks, feeling unbelievably vulnerable under his lustful gaze. he's leaning forward, nose dragging along the length of your neck before his tongue pushes out to drag against your skin.
his hand slides expertly between your legs as his mouth moves to suck a hickey into your skin. your legs spread almost instinctively, moaning as his fingers trace between your folds. “you're so fucking wet,” he's groaning, fingers pushing slowly past your entrance. the warmth of your pussy surrounds his fingers as he slides in all the way to the knuckle. your hips lift to meet his hand and he's grinning down at you. “does it feel good? having my fingers stretch you out?” he asks softly as he curls his fingers inside you.
your walls clamp down around them, head bobbing in a nod. “yes... f-fuck, jay. it feels so good,” you're admitting. jay's fingers thrust deep inside of you, thumb pressing against your clit before he's rubbing slow cirlces against it. it's not long before he's falling into a steady rhythm, free hand lifting to hold your hips still as his fingers fuck into you. you're whining softly, legs spreading wide for him. “jay...” you're pleading, yet you have no idea what you're asking for.
his eyes lift to find yours, head tilting to the side slightly. “what, baby?” he grins, speeding up the movement of his hand and easily pulling a loud gasp from your lips. the sound of his chuckle follows, his eyes dropping back to your pussy. you're basically dripping around his fingers walls pulsing with each thrust. “i need... more, jay please.” your words break on a desperate cry, his fingers scissoring inside of you as his thumb presses harder against your clit.
“whatever you want,” he says, but the truth was he couldn't wait much longer either. not with this insistent throb between his legs, and the way you were looking up at him, so needy and ready. he had waited long enough for a moment like this with you, he was done waiting. jay pulls his hand away slowly, hands flying to push his shorts out of the way. his wet hand wrapping around his thick length and you watch as he strokes himself slowly, coating his shaft with your arousal.
the sight makes your mouth water. he stays knelt there for a few moments, just rubbing his hand over himself and watching you and the intensity in his stare makes your body hot. “spread your legs for me,” he's saying after a minute and you're separating your knees without a word, pussy clenching at the groan he lets out. “jay. fuck me, please.” you're whining, hand dropping down the length of your body to spread your folds for him, showing him just how badly you needed him.
he's leaning forward quickly, mouth covering yours in a needy kiss as the bulbous head of his cock bumps against your fingers. he takes his time with lining himself up with your tight hole, pushing his hips forward slowly until he's feeling you stretch around him. you have to remind yourself to relax as he pushes forward, breathing through the pain that comes with each inch of him. your fingers clutch his hair the moment that he's bottoming out and he feels the way your body stiffens.
“relax, baby. take your time.” he soothes, hand stroking your hair gently as he watches you adjust. he leans down to press soft kisses against your skin. switching between sucking hickeys into your neck and twisting his tongue with yours. he waits patiently for you to loosen up for him, but the moment he feels you shifting, he's taking that as his go and thrusting his hips forward. “fuck!” you shout, back arching as much as it can and he's pinning you back down with his hips.
slowly, he's pulling his hips back, allowing you to feel every rigid inch of his cock. “you're squeezing me so tight,” he says before he's quickly slamming back in. your body jerks, hips lift, whines falling from your lips as he falls into a steady pace. your hands are on his shoulders, nails dragging against his skin. jay fucks into you slowly and incredibly deep. his grip is tight on your waist, dragging your body down onto him with each thrust. his face remains buried in your neck, mouthing at your skin as his cock splits you open.
you feel him so deeply, he's no longer holding back and the desperate movement of his hips has an electric need shooting through your body. you needed to be closer. needed to feel him deeper. needed his hands on you like this forever. his teeth bite into your skin, muffling the long groan threatens to slip out and you're matching it with a needy whimper. his thrusts become brutal, hips snapping against yours in a overwhelmingly rough pace. your nails drag over the muscles of his back, legs spreading wider for him as desperate cries fill the car.
“jay, oh my god. i'm gonna...” you don't know if you should push him away or pull him closer, heat spreading throughout your body as the knot at the pit of your stomach tightens. jay keeps up with the pace as best he can, hand dropping down to find your clit again and he rubs figure eights into the sensitive bud. his head lifts so he can watch the way your face contorts in pleasure.
your orgasm tears through your body, eyes rolling all the way to the back of your head as your back arches off of the seat. it's unlike anything you've felt before, body going numb as his hips continue to move between your thighs – fucking you through it. “god, look at you.” he sighs, burying himself deep inside of you, balls slapping against your ass with each thrusts. he moves until you're coming down for your high, watching the way your body relaxes in his arms. and only then is he pulling back, slowly drawing his hips away from your body and twisting his body so he's sitting upright on the seats.
“fuck,” he breathes, hand wrapping over his cock to keep it from falling limp. “i had the craziest cramp in my leg,” he says through a laugh, eyes shifting to find you. you're half way off of the seat, back resting against a box and hair falling messily around your face. “you okay?” he asks, smiling softly the second you're nodding. his free hand reaches out toward you, beckoning you over with a grin.
you're lifting slowly, allowing his arm to wrap around his waist and for her to tug you onto his lap. “come ride me, i'm almost there,” there's quiet begging in his tone as he lifts your body slightly, enough to pull you into his lap. your heart jumps, body freezing as you stare over at him with wide eyes. “oh, uhm... i've never? i don't think i know how...” you feel the heat rising in your cheeks and jay's brow furrows at your words.
“you've never rode someone before?” he asks because it sounds almost insane. of course you've rode someone before. he takes in the look in your eye, the shy blush that darkens your cheeks. “well, no... that was my first time,” you say sheepishly and his eyes are flying open, his hand falling from his cock to push his hair back on his forehead. “what?” he says it, even though he's positive he heard you clearly.
he just couldn't believe it. didn't even stop and consider it. and now he feels terrible because he just took your virginity like it was nothing. like it was something you could just hand out. it should've been special, he should've made it special. “yn, you can't lose your virginity in the back of my car!?” you're laughing at his distress, the wrinkle between his brow as they furrow in pure worry.
you don't know why you find him so cute this way. your shoulders lift in a shrug, hands settling on his shoulders. “too late?” you're saying through your laughter and he's shooting you a pointed look. “not funny, yn. i should've been gentle,” you're quick to shake your head, hands covering his cheeks as you lean down to press a soft kiss to his lips. he kisses you back slowly, hands resting on your waist much lighter now. you're pulling back slowly, head tilting slightly.
“come on, you already took it. don't clam up now,” you're leaning down to plate a kiss to his lips that has his worries melting away. your tongue wrapping around his, fingers curling in his hair as you lift your hips to climb further up on his lap. his head rests on the back of the chair when you pull away, looking up at you through his lashes as your hand reaches down wrapping around his cock. his hips twitch as you position his head at your entrance, “teach me,” you say with a pout and just like that his restraint is gone.
again.
–
you're not heading back to jay's cabin until the sun is already peaking over the mountains. it's weirdly empty, just like you imagined. his bed made in the middle of the room. he doesn't let you dwell on the look of it for too long, not wanting you to sleep too deep in your thoughts while you're having such a good time. he's pulling you into bed beside him, easily tucking your body into his as the two of you finally drift off to sleep.
and you stay like that in his arms for god knows how long. your head on his chest and his arm wrapped securely around your waist. he doesn't dare move, even when sleep finally takes over. which doesn't last as long as he would have hoped, his alarm blaring at exactly 7:15am. he's careful not to wake you as he slips out of bed, showering and changing his clothes as you shift and pull at his sheets. you don't even budge when he's making his bed, or when he's taking the last bag out of his room and into his car.
there's so much more he wanted to say. and he hated that he had no more time. for a long while, jay just stands there. keys in hand as his eyes scan over his empty cabin, save for you curled beneath his blankets. the morning sun peaks in through his window, golden streaks fanning across the bed. and you don't even shift. you're dead asleep, drooling onto his pillows and the sight has a soft laugh falling from his lips.
“wow,” he's shocked because even like this, smushed face and messy hair – you still look so pretty. he should leave, he needed to get on the road before the gps estimated a different arrival time. there were a list of things that he needed to get done back at his apartment before he was heading to the airport, he needed to leave. instead, he's making his way back into the cabin. setting his keys back on his desk before pulling out the blank notebook from one of the drawers, stealing a page.
he starts writing. the words coming to him much easier now that he's no longer hold back. he's ran out of reasons not to tell you exactly how he feels. he spent the last nine drafts trying to sound reasonable and failed every single time. because, this wasn't reasonable. falling for you was the most unreasonable thing that he has ever done, but he loved every second of it.
jay doesn't stop once as he writes, not a single typo. his feelings hit the page unfiltered, for the first time all summer. he's saying everything that he's wanted to, to you, about you. for you. he doesn't make a single edit. every for sentences, his eyes would drift over to where you lay, curled in his hoodie and drowning in his sheets. and then three more sentences would come to mind, two more after that. he writes until he's filled the entire page and then some more on the back.
once he's finished he's folding it carefully, slipping it into an envelope before scribbling something across the front. he's moving to stand beside the bed one last time, setting the note on his empty pillow before his eyes drift over to you. the urge to wake you up hit him intensely, he wanted so badly to say goodbye properly, to steal one more kiss, one more touch, one more hour. but he knew that was wrong. that he'd end up wanting to stay longer, actually seeing him walk away might hurt you more.
so he doesn't. he just sets his hand on your head softly, brushing your hair back so he's able to press a soft kiss to your forehead. his lips linger there for a moment, silently hoping that you'd wake up on your own. and when you don't, he's standing. he grabs his keys from his desk, takes one final look at you, before he's heading out of the cabin, closing the door tight behind him.
you're stirring awake two hours later. the first thing you notice is that you feel warm, surrounded by jay's familiar scent. you sink further into the mattress, sunlight spilling from the windows and warming your skin and for a few seconds you don't open your eyes. instead, you nuzzle yourself into jay's warmth as moments from the night before flood your memory.
playing with jay in the lake. kissing jay against the rocks. jay holding you by the fire. walking with jay to his car, his arm around your shoulders. jay fucking you in that same car, in so many different ways. you could still feel the stretch of him between your legs. a smile spreads across your lips, remembering exactly how he felt beneath you as you rode him for the first time ever. and you're suddenly filled with the need to try it again. to feel him again.
you're reaching out before your mind can tell you differently, eyes snapping open when your hand is met with nothing but emptiness. your eyes find the clock sat on his nightstand, reading the flashing numbers that stare back at you. 10:17AM. your stomach drops, a deep frown replacing the sleepy smile you had been wearing before. “oh,” you're sighing as realization hits, jay was gone.
you knew he'd be leaving early, he told everyone that he was going to be gone before anyone was really waking up. but despite knowing, not seeing him beside you still stings. slowly you're sitting up in his bed, the over-sized hoodie shifting over your shoulders as you reach to rub at your eyes. everything feels heavy, your heart thumps uselessly in your chest as your eyes scan over the room.
he was really gone. the bathroom had been emptied out this morning, his desk was completely cleared off, posters torn down and folded neatly. there was no trace of him left in this room besides you and the fact that he took everything and left you behind has your throat tightening. your eyes drift back toward his pillow, eyes furrowing at the sight of the crisp envelope that laid on top of his blue pillowcase. you're reaching for it quickly, reading over the words written across the front of the envelope. “make it ten versions,” you read and you don't waste a second before tearing the note open.
❝ yn.
i've written this goodbye letter to you so many times that i almost forgot the point of it. the first few letters sounded like i was giving you a college recommendation... then i got too emotional about leaving the music lodge in your care. the third version was so embarrassingly raw that if you ever somehow read it i'd most likely evaporate where i stand. the one that I gave you, version nine, was the one that felt the most honest to me. at least at that time. now, it just feels like it was written by someone else.
someone that was still pretending he hadn't fell for you. i spent the last three months pretending that i wasn't looking for you in every room. pretending that i was fine with keeping things professional. wasted so much time pretending that i didn't feel the same way that you did and i think i owe you an apology for that. i owe you a lot of apologies, honestly.
i'm sorry that i waited until the last day to make a move. i'm realizing now, seated at my desk and you snoring behind me that, that was the wrong move. i should've said something sooner, i shouldn't have let you wonder if you were the only one with the crush. or at least stuck to my guns, said nothing, and left quietly. because this sucks so much worse. leaving after just one night of getting to know how it feels to be with you feels horrible. but i don't regret it, don't get me wrong. i'm happy that our last night together was every bit of perfect, i just wish i got it together sooner. for the both of us.
and that brings me to my next apology. i'm sorry that you spent all summer being brave enough for the both of us. you were so loud about your feelings, you never hid, you flirted with me in front of everyone despite their teasing. you made your feelings so clear and gave me every opportunity to meet you halfway and i kept coming up with excuses not to.
i convinced myself that keeping my distance would be best for the both of us. there was no point in starting something that i couldn't finish, but i realize now i was too focused on that small detail. because while the future was clear and we both knew this summer would end, we could've still enjoyed each other for three full months rather than one night. that's my fault, i'm sorry i robbed us of that.
for the last seven years, this place has been my home away from home. i know the walls, i know the smells, every last detail is engraved in my brain like a sixth sense. so naturally, i figured no longer having it as a constant would be the hardest thing of all, the thing that i'd miss most. but now i'm realizing (again) that i was wrong, because what i'm going to miss most is you.
i'm going to miss the way your face lights up when you talk about music, the way you manage to make every conversation last twice as long as they should. your laugh, your smile, the taste of your lips. i'm going to miss how warm you felt sleeping against me. and most of all, i'm going to miss all the things that i want to experience with you and now know it's too late.
fuck, i hate that it's too late...
for the first time ever, i have no idea what will happen next. because as you read this, i'm probably already on the road, heading home or toward the airport and even though, i know that has always been the plan, i can't help but wonder if i should be doing something different. or if it's stupid to make such huge life changes over someone you just met. for the first time ever, i don't trust my own plan and that scares the shit out of me.
but i kind of like it, because if there's one thing this summer taught me, one thing that you taught me... it's that all of life's best moments happen when you stop trying to control them. it took me until last night to realize it, that's why i kissed you when i did. none of that was part of the plan, but i'm so happy that i let myself enjoy being with you, even if it was just once.
i know i don't have to tell you this, but don't worry too much about me... enjoy your school year, enjoy your life. go on all the dates, make new friends and be as happy as you can possibly be. i hope that one day the universe will bring us back together, but in the meantime... keep my hoodie safe. it looks better on you, anyway.
⟢ Pairings: neighbors!02 liners x fem!reader
⟢ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (mdni!!)
⟢ Warnings: mature content, explicit language and sexual content, emotional breakdown, multiple smut scenes, oral! (f! rec), p in v, unprotected!sex, protected!sex, creampie! (reader is on birth control but wasn't mentioned), Imk if i missed anything!
Summary: When you move into a quiet neighborhood for a fresh start, the last thing you expect is to live next door to three ridiculously attractive guys. What starts as neighborly banter turns into late-night confessions, stolen kisses, and a complicated tangle of feelings you can't outrun. In the end, which neighbor opens the heart of the new girl next door?
⟢ Word Count: 22.7k
The sun beats down on you as you stand on the sidewalk, the weight of the cardboard box in your arms growing more unbearable by the second. "Kitchen Stuff," it says in bold letters across the side, but right now, it feels more like an anchor than something useful. You try to hold it more comfortably by adjusting your grip, but it's impossible. You can't manage the size of the box by yourself, and the heat is making matters worse. The humid air pressing against your skin makes moving ten times more difficult.
You can't help but think back to why you're here in the first place. This is supposed to be a fresh start. Your first place. The beginning of something new, away from everything you used to know. But standing here, on the edge of this unfamiliar neighborhood, struggling with a box that you swear weighs more than it should, you can't help but feel a pang of uncertainty. A small part of you feels like you're leaving behind something you'll never be able to get back—familiar faces, the comfort of the past, the rhythm of your old life.
But then there's this, a blank slate, this house that smells of dust and potential, waiting for you to make it yours. It's a mix of excitement and fear of starting something that feels big and important but full of unknowns.
You take a deep breath, finally giving up on the box and shifting it to a new angle, but it doesn't get any easier. Just as you're about to make another attempt, a voice cuts through the air, catching your attention.
"Hey! Do you need a hand, or are you trying to fight gravity on your own?"
You blink, startled, and glance up, trying to make sense of the voice that seems to belong to a stranger standing across the street. You can barely make him out through the giant box in your arms, but you see enough: a guy with dark hair, an easy smile, and a casual stance.
You glance back at the door to your new place. You're so close, but this box is just too much. You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck, the heat threatening to overtake you, and something about the guy's voice makes you pause. Maybe it's just relief or a willingness to accept help, but you take a moment before answering.
"I've got it," you say, more out of habit than confidence. You try to shift the box again, but it only seems to get heavier.
He doesn't buy it, of course. "You sure about that? Looks like you're losing the battle to me."
You bite your lip, already feeling the awkwardness of the situation settling in. The guy's not wrong. And you're not sure why, but something in his tone makes you let go of the box just enough for him to swoop in and take it from you, lifting it without a second thought.
"You don't have to do that," you say quickly, but it's too late. Jake's already walking toward your front door.
"Don't worry about it," he calls back, glancing over his shoulder. "What's the point of neighbors if they can't help you carry heavy stuff?"
You can't help but stare after him momentarily, surprised by how easily he just took charge. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that he didn't hesitate to help makes you feel a little less alone in this sea of change.
As he heads toward your door, you hear the soft sound of footsteps from behind, and another voice cuts in, smoother and quieter than the first.
"Doesn't look like you're in control of that situation," says a taller guy with a more deliberate, calculated presence. His voice is calm and measured, and you can't help but feel the difference between him and the first guy. He seems… more reserved. You catch a quick glimpse of him this time—blond hair catching the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the other's dark hair—and it hits you how striking he looks in a quiet, unbothered way.
You look up, meeting his eyes briefly as he walks past, his hand reaching out to grab another box from you. It's a silent gesture, but there's something in the way he moves, so efficient and careful that you almost don't notice until it's too late.
"Thanks," you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else, and it almost feels normal for a moment. Like this could be the kind of neighborhood where people help each other out, where you're not alone in the chaos of moving.
You're about to say something more when you hear a soft chuckle behind you. You turn to see a third guy standing on the porch, leaning casually against the railing, earbuds in and one eyebrow raised in mild amusement.
"Who moves in during a heatwave?" he mutters under his breath, though it's loud enough for you to hear. He's smirking, clearly entertained by the whole scene.
You glance back at him, an eyebrow quirked. "It wasn't exactly my plan."
His lips curl slightly, but he doesn't say anything more, the corners of his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement as he watches the two guys carry your boxes inside.
The dark-haired one—the first to approach you—places the box down gently on your porch and wipes his hands on his shorts before flashing you another wide grin.
"I'm Jake, by the way," he says, sticking out his hand, casual and easygoing. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
You shake his hand, feeling the heat from both the sun and the moment.
The blond guy sets your second box down next to the first and straightens up, nodding slightly. "Jay," he says, his voice as clipped and efficient as his movements.
You nod, repeating their names under your breath to yourself—Jake and Jay. Easy enough.
Jake gestures toward the guy still lounging on the porch. "That grumpy one over there? That’s Sunghoon. Don’t mind the attitude—he's nicer than he looks."
Sunghoon, still smirking, pushes off the railing and gives a lazy little wave, clearly unbothered by the introduction.
"Nice to meet you," you offer, feeling a little out of breath—not just from the heat or the moving, but from the way all three of them seem so effortlessly alive, so rooted in this neighborhood you're only just stepping into.
Jake glances at your door as they finish up, then back at you. "Well, that's all of them. Not bad for a first day, right?"
You're still a little dazed from the whole experience, but you manage a small, tired smile. "Yeah, thanks. I wasn't exactly planning on getting a welcoming committee."
Jake grins, his easygoing nature infectious. "Hey, you don't get to choose your neighbors, but you can definitely make the most of it."
Jay, brushing his pale blond hair out of his eyes, quietly adds, "We've all been there. Moving's never easy."
And then there's Sunghoon, who, without a word, gives you a lazy smile from the porch as he slips his earbuds out. His gaze lingers for a moment before he turns to head back inside, leaving you standing in the doorway, feeling more exposed than you'd like.
Sure, They've helped you, but something in the air about their presence makes you feel like you're already tangled in their lives. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not.
The quiet hum of your new house surrounds you as you close the door behind you, the weight of the box long gone. But the weight of everything else—the newness, the uncertainty, the fact that you're not entirely sure what's next—settles into your chest.
It's a strange feeling. And you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.
Later at night, the house smells like cardboard and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Somewhere in the chaos, a candle burns on the kitchen counter—your half-hearted attempt at pretending this is home already. The living room is still a jungle of boxes, some half-unpacked, others just… there.
You're sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing the same sweaty shirt from earlier, your hair tied up in a messy knot. A takeout container sits abandoned at your side, half-eaten. Your phone leans against a ceramic mug, propped up just enough for the screen to catch your face as it rings.
It connects after the third ring. Two familiar faces appear side by side—Taehyun and Hueningkai squished into the frame like some kind of chaotic commentary duo.
"Hey!" Kai chirps immediately, waving like it's been years. "You survived!"
Taehyun just stares at you. "You look like a raccoon that got hit by a moving truck."
You groan and flop backward against a pile of throw blankets. "Because I was hit. By heat. And gravity. And my own bad decisions."
"I told you to hire movers," Taehyun says, smug.
"I told you to marry rich," Kai adds, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.
"I hate both of you," you mutter, smiling despite yourself. "You'll never believe what happened though."
Kai leans closer to the camera. "Don't say you fell in love with your delivery guy. I've already written three fanfics about that scenario in my head."
"Worse," you deadpan. "There's a house across the street. With three guys. All stupidly attractive. All mysteriously helpful, well, two of them were."
That gets their attention. Taehyun raises a brow. "Define 'stupidly attractive.'"
"Like… if someone Photoshopped the members of a boy group into a lifestyle commercial about clean living and emotional repression."
Kai gasps. "You moved into a K-drama."
Taehyun smirks. "So which one's the tsundere? There's always one."
You glance at the ceiling. "His name's Sunghoon. He didn't even help me. Just made fun of me from the porch like some aloof anime rival."
Kai practically squeals. "I knew it. And the charming golden retriever type?"
"That's Jake. He carried the heaviest box like it was made of feathers. Told me gravity was optional."
"And the serious one with good hair?" Taehyun asks knowingly.
"Jay. Quiet. Blonde. Looks like he'd be the type that reads classic literature for fun and judges people for using too much seasoning. Wait, how the fuck are you describing them so accurately?"
Kai clutches his chest. "This has sitcom energy written all over it."
You laugh, rubbing at your face. "It was surreal. They introduced themselves like some unofficial welcome committee. Jake even carried boxes. Jay took one without asking. Sunghoon just… watched like he was grading the situation."
Taehyun tilts his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. "How are you feeling about all this?"
You fall silent for a second, picking at the edge of a moving label on the nearest box. "Weird. Everything's so new. The house doesn't feel like mine yet. I don't have anything figured out. But… when they helped me earlier? For a second, I didn't feel so alone."
Kai softens. "You're not. You've got us. And apparently, three hot neighbors who lift heavy things and emotionally confuse you."
"Don't trip and fall into one of them," Taehyun says, deadpan.
Kai wiggles his eyebrows. "Or do. It'd be iconic."
You smile, warm and tired. "Thanks for the chaos. Seriously."
"Anytime," they echo in unison.
You end the call eventually, but your heart feels a little lighter, your chest a little less heavy. Outside the window, the porch light across the street is still on. Someone walks by it, probably heading inside for the night. You don't know which one of them it was, but something about it feels oddly comforting.
You look around the mess of boxes, tape, and takeout containers. The place still doesn't feel like home. But maybe, just maybe, it's starting to.
It's only been two days, but you've developed an instinct: anytime there's a knock on the door, brace for chaos.
You wipe your hands on your shorts—mid-unpacking again because somehow there are always more boxes—and shuffle over to the front door. The knock comes again. Three sharp raps. Light, but too coordinated to be a delivery guy.
You open the door. And there they are. Again.
Jake stands in the middle, wearing that same easy grin, holding a tin of cookies like a peace offering. Jay is beside him, arms crossed, his face unreadable but not unfriendly. Sunghoon is lingering slightly behind the other two, earbuds slung around his neck this time instead of buried in his ears. His hands are in his pockets, head tilted as if this whole situation mildly amuses him.
"Hi," Jake says brightly, as if this is normal. "We come bearing gifts."
You stare at the tin. Then at them. "Did you bake those yourselves or rob a bakery on the way here?"
Jake gasps—faux offense. "We slaved over a hot oven for... okay, no. We bought them."
You raise an eyebrow and reach out, flipping the tin. The price sticker is still on the bottom. "Huh. Team effort, huh?"
Jake shrugs with zero shame. "Jay drove, Sunghoon carried the bag, and I chose the cookies."
"I see we're operating on shared delusion," you mutter, but you're already stepping aside and holding the door open. "Fine. Come in. But if one of you eats all the Oreos from my pantry, I'm changing the Wi-Fi password you don't even have yet."
Jake's eyes light up. "You do have Oreos?"
Jay gives him a look. "Focus."
They file inside like they've done this before, scattering across your barely-arranged living room. You mentally brace yourself for judgment, but to your surprise, none comes.
Jake plops onto the floor and opens the cookie tin like it's sacred. "So, how's it going? Still finding mystery boxes labeled 'can be kitchen or bedroom'?"
You gesture vaguely to a corner filled with mismatched mugs, cleaning supplies, and a random lava lamp. "I've made peace with being a functional disaster."
"Same," Jake says around a cookie. "That's why I bought a cactus. Low expectations."
You glance at Sunghoon. He's wandered over to your bookshelves, running a finger along the spines like he's trying to decode your personality through fiction.
He glances at you, then at a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Oscar Wilde and ramen. You're eclectic."
You cross your arms. "You say that like it's a warning."
Sunghoon smiles faintly. "Just an observation."
Jay, meanwhile, is looking at the thermostat. He points. "That dial's finicky. You'll need to jiggle it clockwise before it actually responds."
You blink. "Are you... giving me house maintenance advice?"
He shrugs. "Better than waiting for it to freeze you out. The water pressure in the upstairs bathroom sucks, too. You'll want to test the downstairs one first."
You study him. Jay doesn't talk much, but when he does, it's like he's already thought the whole thing through twice. There's a quiet kind of attentiveness to him you missed the first time.
"Noted," you murmur, and he nods once, then goes back to inspecting a sticky note on your fridge that says "Buy toilet paper" with the seriousness of someone solving a crime.
Jake's now halfway through the cookies. "You should join us for dinner sometime. Jay usually cooks. Sunghoon critiques it. I set the mood."
You squint. "Define 'set the mood.'"
"Playlist," Jake replies confidently. "Mostly 2000s boy bands. A little Mariah Carey."
Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "You put Pitbull on the last playlist."
"I stand by that."
You shake your head, already regretting asking. But your smile won't go away. It's strange—how easily they occupy a space. You haven't figured out how they feel less like strangers and more like a sitcom cast yet.
Eventually, the cookies are reduced to crumbs, and the boys stand to leave.
Jay's the first to step out, nodding at you like a quiet promise. "Text me if you can't get the thermostat to work. I can walk you through it."
Jake points finger guns on the way out. "Welcome to the neighborhood."
Sunghoon's the last to leave, pausing in your doorway. "If you ever need silence, our rooftop is quiet around 11 p.m."
You blink. "That... was surprisingly thoughtful."
He shrugs one shoulder. "Don't read into it."
Then they're gone. The door clicks shut behind them, and your living room feels a little too quiet.
You stare down at the half-empty tin and snort softly. Store-bought cookies and three very different kinds of neighborly chaos. This whole street might be a fever dream.
Still... you're not complaining.
The street is unusually tranquil tonight.
You hadn't planned on doing anything, really. Maybe finishing the ramen you half-cooked or finally tackling the hellscape that is your bedroom closet. But the trash bag sitting by the front door demanded attention, and now here you are—barefoot, in pajama pants and an old hoodie, holding a slightly torn bag of garbage while the summer night air presses against your skin like a damp towel.
You mutter to yourself as you struggle with the bin lid, fumbling in the dark. "Cool. Glamorous. Totally thriving."
Then, a voice floats from the left—low and amused.
"Hoodie and pajama pants combo. Brave."
You nearly jump out of your skin.
You turn your head sharply and spot him—Sunghoon—leaning against the short wooden fence that divides your yard from the sidewalk. He's in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, sweat darkening the neckline and clinging slightly to his collarbone. His hair's damp, sticking up in the wrong places. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin that catches the moonlight.
You narrow your eyes. "You always sneak up on women taking out the trash?"
He lifts a shoulder in a slow shrug. "Just finished a run. Didn't think I'd interrupt a dramatic garbage disposal."
You roll your eyes, but your mouth twitches. "Are you mocking me or flirting with me? I need to know what I'm working with."
He lets out a quiet laugh. It's short but real.
"I don't flirt in pajama pants hour," he says, adding, "But if I were, I'd at least bring coffee."
You cross your arms, stepping closer to the fence. "Is that your way of saying I should step up my late-night attire game?"
"I mean," he muses, "you did match the hoodie and pants. That's effort."
You smile despite yourself. It's the kind of smile that sneaks up on you—gentle, unforced.
There's a long pause. Not uncomfortable, just… quiet. You both linger there, separated only by a few wooden boards and the rare stillness in this city. The kind that hums beneath your skin.
He glances up at the sky. "You can't see much here. Too much light pollution. No real stars."
You follow his gaze. "They're still there. Just hiding."
Another silence. A softer one.
"I like this time of night," he says eventually. "It feels like the world stops pretending."
You blink, surprised at its rawness. "What do you mean?"
He chews on the inside of his cheek. "People don't perform as much at night. It's too quiet to pretend you're fine all the time."
You watch him for a beat, the way his profile softens in the streetlight's glow. Something about it—him—feels real in a way you didn't expect. Not right away.
You toe at the grass under your foot. "Do you always get philosophical after cardio?"
He grins. "Only when the moon's judgmental."
Another pause. You glance toward your house. The light from your living room spills into the yard, casting a warm haze over the porch. Your half-unpacked boxes are still stacked by the entryway. Inside, it feels like chaos.
But here? Out here with him? It feels like the eye of the storm.
You lean on the fence a little. "I think I like this time too."
He nods, slow and deliberate. "You can come out here sometimes. If you need quiet."
You tilt your head. "Is this an invitation?"
His eyes flick to yours, something unreadable in them. "It's not a rejection."
That leaves you quiet.
He pushes off the fence after a beat, stretching his arms behind his back. "Anyway. Try not to get eaten by raccoons out here."
"Noted."
"Night, pajama girl."
"Night, cardio boy."
He disappears into his side of the house, and you're left in the quiet again—but it feels different this time.
Fuller. Warmer.
It started small.
One Saturday, Jake stood on your porch wearing sunglasses and an alarming amount of enthusiasm, shaking a to-go coffee at you like a bribe.
"You have to experience the only good brunch spot in this hellhole," he declared as if it was a moral obligation. "It's part of your initiation."
You had still been in your pajama pants, hair half-tied up with a pen, clutching a list of chores you didn't actually want to do. And somehow, despite every intention of saying no, you ended up shoved into the backseat of Jake's car between a box of reusable shopping bags and a stray soccer ball.
Jay was already there when you arrived—leaning against the café's outdoor railing, stirring a coffee with slow, deliberate movements. He barely glanced up as you approached, just giving a slight chin tilt that said both hey and you're late at the same time.
Sunghoon arrived five minutes later, sliding into the seat across from you with his hoodie pulled over his head. His sunglasses covered half his face as if he were recovering from a hangover.
"Is he okay?" you asked, a little concerned.
Jake just laughed. "This is his okay."
Sunghoon flicked a piece of toast at Jake without a word.
You learned quickly that mornings with them had their own rhythm: Jay always ordered something complicated with substitutions, Sunghoon barely ate but stole bites from other people's plates, and Jake talked enough for all three of them combined.
You just tried to survive it.
From there, the Saturdays started piling up.
Somehow, without asking permission, they became part of your calendar.
Not an obligation. Not even a real plan. Just... expected.
You ended up at the local flea market one morning, supposedly "just browsing."
Jake, predictably, lost focus immediately.
You found him twenty minutes later trying to convince a vendor to sell him a neon lava lamp for half price.
"It's vintage," Jake argued, clutching it like a trophy.
The vendor, a stone-faced woman in her seventies, was unmoved. "It's tacky."
Jay, appearing behind you with a basket of vinyl records tucked under his arm, deadpanned, "So is he. Let him have it."
Jake beamed at the accidental endorsement.
Meanwhile, Sunghoon had vanished somewhere near the food stands. You spotted him across the way, balancing two cups of iced coffee precariously in one hand while texting with the other. He noticed you looking and offered the tiniest shrug that somehow said, What? I'm a multitasker.
You shook your head, laughing under your breath.
When he finally made it back, he set a cup in front of you without comment—exactly how you liked it. No sugar, extra ice. You blinked, surprised he remembered.
He didn't say anything. He just nudged it toward you casually, like it was no big deal.
Your heart did a weird little somersault.
You told yourself it was just the caffeine kicking in.
Later that afternoon, it was the plant shop.
You wandered between the rows of succulents and spider plants while Jake trailed dramatically behind you, narrating like a nature documentary.
"Observe the wild Y/N in her natural habitat," he whispered loudly. "Drawn instinctively to small, low-commitment life forms."
You smacked him with a fern.
Jay stood by the pots section, analyzing the designs as if they were ancient artifacts. You watched him turn a terracotta pot over in his hands, checking the drainage holes with an almost surgical focus.
"You're taking this very seriously," you said, amused.
Jay glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "Bad drainage kills the roots. You can't half-ass the foundation."
You stared at him for a beat longer than necessary. Something about how he said it was sticking to your ribs. It's not just about plants, maybe. About everything.
Sunghoon, for his part, picked the most miniature succulent he could find—a tiny thing barely bigger than his thumb—and declared it was "enough commitment for now."
You arched an eyebrow. "Afraid of responsibility?"
He smirked, spinning the pot once between his fingers. "Afraid of overwatering."
You didn't know what to say to that, exactly. It felt like it meant something more.
Maybe everything did with him.
Maybe with all of them.
You ended the afternoon with a pile of plants, an overpriced lava lamp, and a half-melted ice cream cone because Jake insisted that no weekend adventure was complete without dessert.
Back at your house, you all lounged on your front porch, the sun drifting below the rooftops, painting everything in soft gold.
Jay sat cross-legged on the steps, scrolling idly on his phone.
Sunghoon leaned back against the railing, eyes half-closed, humming quietly under his breath.
Jake sprawled across two chairs like he owned the place, tossing pebbles at an invisible target.
You watched them—these three chaotic, complicated, impossible boys—and for the first time in a long time, you felt it.
That tentative thing in your chest.
Like maybe...
Maybe you were allowed to belong somewhere again.
Maybe you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, wondering when you’d have to leave.
The thought scared you a little.
But it also made you smile.
You were halfway through a very glamorous evening of folding laundry and pretending to organize your books when you heard it — three quick raps against the wood, familiar now in a way that made your heart stutter for reasons you refused to unpack.
When you opened the door, Jake stood there, a sheepish grin on his face and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.
"Hey. So, um—" He glanced back over his shoulder like he was checking to ensure no one was watching. "Jay's making dinner tonight. Actual dinner, not just ramen and regret."
You smiled. "Sounds fancy."
He laughed. "Yeah, well. He got a new recipe from some cooking show, and Sunghoon dared him to try it. This means it's either going to be amazing or we're all going to die dramatically. Wanna come?"
There it was again—that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
"Sure," you said, sounding casual like your brain wasn't already spiraling into what-the-hell-do-I-wear mode.
Jake's whole face lit up. "Awesome. Come hungry. And maybe bring a fire extinguisher. Just in case."
You laughed as he backed down the porch steps, throwing you a wink before jogging across the street.
The moment the door shut, you practically sprinted for your phone.
You flopped onto your bed, FaceTiming Taehyun and Kai, who answered almost immediately.
"What's up, new girl?" Taehyun said, lounging sideways across his couch like a cat.
Kai leaned over his shoulder, grinning. "You look stressed. Bad date? Broken appliance? Existential dread?"
You huffed. "Worse. Dinner invite."
They stared at you.
"You're gonna have to be much more specific, with which one?" Taehyun said.
"With all three of them," you clarified, feeling your face heat. "Tonight. Like—an actual dinner. Jay's cooking."
Taehyun immediately sat up. "Oh my god."
Kai let out a low whistle. "It's happening. She's starting a harem."
You scowled. "Nothing is happening. It's just dinner."
They exchanged the most irritatingly synchronized look you'd ever seen.
"Right," Taehyun said, dragging the word out. "Just dinner with three hot boys who you happen to banter with every day and who happen to look at you like you're the only person on Earth sometimes."
Kai nodded solemnly. "Totally normal. No notes."
You threw a pillow at the screen. "Help me pick an outfit or I'm ending the call."
That got them moving.
Taehyun instructed you to hold up options one by one while he gave devastating critiques, and Kai kept interjecting with commentary like "That top says 'I could fall in love with you by accident,' but the jeans say 'don't talk to me before coffee.'"
Ultimately, you settled on something simple: a soft sweater that made your eyes pop, your favorite jeans, and a necklace you always wore when you needed extra courage.
Not too much. Not too little.
Just... safe.
"You're gonna kill them," Kai said, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.
Taehyun pointed at you through the screen. "Remember, confidence. And if Jay burns the food, pretend to faint from hunger. Drama earns points."
You laughed, feeling the nervous energy settle just a little. "Thanks, guys."
"Anytime," they chorused.
You hung up, checked yourself once in the mirror, and tried to pretend it was no big deal.
You were just going to dinner with your neighbors.
Just dinner.
With 3 absolutely hot neighbors...
The sun had just started dipping by the time you crossed the street.
When you walked in, the dining table was already set—not just a "grab a fork and sit down" set. It had actual placements, folded napkins, and a tiny glass vase in the center with a few delicate white flowers. The soft glow from the warm ceiling light made everything look golden—inviting, even.
"You guys... went full Pinterest," you said, a little stunned.
"Jake," Jay replied dryly from the kitchen without turning around, "raided the neighbor's garden."
"Borrowed," Jake corrected, popping up beside you with a grin. "With an intense respect for nature. And a pair of scissors."
Sunghoon, already sitting with one leg tucked under the other, lifted his water glass. "He asked for help holding the flowers and then nearly cut my thumb off."
You smiled, your nervousness softening under their easy banter. "I feel like I've walked into a dinner party for a queen."
"You're not wrong," Sunghoon said, lips twitching.
Jay emerged from the kitchen carrying a large pan of steaming, delicious-smelling food and placed it in the middle of the table like it was sacred.
"Okay," he said, wiping his hands on a towel, "tonight's main course: soy-garlic glazed chicken thighs with roasted sesame vegetables and rice. Do not insult it. I've already questioned my life choices enough to make it."
You blinked.
Jake leaned in, whispering, "He's been watching that Michelin chef series. Every time they yell at someone, he takes it personally."
Jay rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.
Sunghoon was already spooning rice onto his plate with the same seriousness people reserved for surgery.
You sat carefully, letting the moment wash over you—the warm clatter of dishes, the murmur of overlapping voices, the smell of garlic and soy and something subtly sweet.
The food was really good.
"You weren't kidding," you said around a bite of perfectly cooked chicken. "This tastes like you robbed a restaurant."
"That's the only kind of crime I condone," Jake said, pouring you a drink. "Well, that and the emotional kind."
Jay gave him a warning glance. "Don't start."
But Jake already had.
"Oh, did you know," he said, resting his chin in his palm like he was about to share state secrets, "that Jay once tried to make gnocchi from scratch and cried when it turned out grey?"
"It was supposed to be beetroot pink," Jay muttered, scowling at his plate.
"Color doesn't change flavor," Sunghoon added, deadpan. "But his soul was crushed."
"Can't believe you're doing this in front of our guest," Jay muttered, but he didn't really seem mad. His voice was warmer than before. Less guarded. They kept roasting each other, telling half-stories that trailed off in laughter. You listened more than you talked at first, taking in how different they were yet somehow perfectly chaotic.
Jake was the loudest. He always leaned forward, gesturing with a fork and tossing his head back when he laughed.
Sunghoon didn't talk as much, but every time he did, it was to deliver a dry, perfectly timed punchline that had everyone howling.
And Jay... Jay was precise. Quiet, but not cold. The kind of person who only spoke when he had something worth saying—or when he wanted to cut through the noise with something disarmingly honest.
"So," Jake turned to you, mid-meal, "what's your go-to comfort meal?"
You blinked. "Like... childhood favorite? Or post-breakup survival?"
"Both," he grinned.
"Mac and cheese for childhood. And pancakes for heartbreak," you answered.
Sunghoon nodded like that made complete sense. "Sweet over salty. Coping through carbs. Acceptable."
"What about you guys?" you asked, curious now.
Jay answered first, quietly. "My mom's doenjang-jjigae. It's the only thing I ever ask for when I visit."
Jake said, "Spam and rice with ketchup. It sounds cursed, but it hits."
Sunghoon shrugged. "Toast."
You looked at him. "Just... toast?"
He met your gaze evenly. "Emotional damage lowers the bar."
That made you laugh so hard that Jake nearly spit out his drink. Even Jay cracked a genuine smile.
You didn't remember the last time you laughed this much over dinner. The kind of laughter that makes your face ache in the best way.
Somewhere between second helpings and a debate about which anime protagonist would win in a street fight, you caught Jake watching you—not just glancing, watching. And when you looked back, he didn't flinch away.
Neither did you.
Jay noticed, too. You could feel it in the shift of the air.
You looked away.
You weren't ready to face whatever that was. Not yet.
Later, when dinner was over, and everyone was sinking into the couch with soft drinks and sleepy smiles, Jay quietly brought you a mug of hot tea without a word and handed you the blanket Sunghoon had kicked off.
You curled up under it, more aware than ever of how easily your life had started to rearrange itself.
You weren't sure what to do with that knowledge.
The laughter from the living room was light, the kind of easy noise that made you forget all about the stress of unpacking and moving in. You, Jake, and Sunghoon were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a movie as you chatted about random things, their voices filling the room with comfortable noise. You hadn't even noticed how much time had passed since dinner. It felt like you were finally getting into a groove here, like maybe this whole moving thing wasn't so bad after all.
And then, there was a knock on the door.
It wasn't an urgent knock, just a soft tap, like whoever was on the other side wasn't entirely sure if they should be there. You thought nothing of it for a moment, too wrapped up in the conversation to even register it.
But then Jay, who had been lounging nearby, got up, his blonde hair messy but effortlessly styled as always, and strolled over to the door. You barely had time to process that someone was at the door before Jay opened it.
A man stood on the other side, his back mostly to you, his posture confident and sure, like he was someone who had every right to be here. He spoke first, his voice calm and polite. "Hey, uh... I'm looking for someone."
Jay raised an eyebrow, sizing him up for a moment. "Who are you looking for?"
The man didn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, he offered a small, polite smile before responding, "I heard someone named Y/N moved into the neighborhood recently. Do you know her?"
Jay hesitated momentarily, then gave the man a nod, still blocking the door slightly. "Yeah, she's inside. I'll let her know you're here."
Jay glanced over his shoulder, his voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of something more. "Y/N, someone's here to see you."
You froze mid-laugh, the words taking a moment to register. Your heart gave an unexpected lurch, the sound of your name hanging in the air like a strange omen. You weren't expecting anyone tonight. The weight of Jay's words and the way the room fell silent for just a moment caught you off guard. You stood up, your movements slower than usual, and instinctively turned to Jake and Sunghoon, who had gone quiet, too.
Jake shot you a quick look. "Who is it?"
You shrugged, unsure of how to respond. You weren't expecting visitors. At least, not like this.
Jay stepped aside when you reached the door, allowing you to face the visitor. The guy standing there still had his head looking down, but his posture, his clothes, and his neatness seemed so oddly familiar, like something that didn't belong here in this neighborhood. It made your chest tighten with some unexplainable feeling.
When he finally looked up to face you, everything seemed to freeze.
You immediately recognized him. The man standing there wasn't just any stranger. He was someone you'd known far too well. Your breath hitched, and your heart beat a little faster. It was a feeling you hadn't expected, not here, not now.
It was him.
"Hee?" you whispered, almost too softly for anyone else to hear, your voice catching in the air like it had been waiting for this moment to break free. It was the only thing you could think to say, but the realization hit you like a flood. Your heart stumbled in your chest, suddenly unsure how to process the situation.
He stood there for a split second longer, unsure how to answer you. And then, the same calm smile you remembered so well tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes softened, but there was an air of something complicated behind them.
"Yeah, it's me," he said quietly, almost sheepishly.
Jay glanced between the two of you, his eyes flickering with a flicker of something — maybe recognition, maybe just curiosity — before his voice cut through the air once again, sharp but almost forced in its neutrality.
"Do you two know each other?" Jay asked, his tone casual but with a layer of something underneath that you didn't quite catch.
You nodded, though your throat felt tight. "Yeah. We… we know each other," you said, the words coming out quieter than you intended. Your gaze flickered between Jay and the man in the doorway, and you felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders.
"Right," Jay said, his gaze shifting back to you. The brief interaction between you and Heeseung hung in the air like something unspoken. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you barely had time to register it before the man in front of you spoke again, his voice slightly more casual this time.
"I'm here for a work trip. I heard you moved into the area and thought I'd drop by," he said, his tone almost too calm, like he wasn't standing on the threshold of a past you'd both tried to move on from.
The air around you seemed to grow heavier like the past was reaching out to you. Heeseung's presence felt like something you hadn't prepared for, but there he was, looking like he hadn't aged a day since the last time you'd seen him.
Jay, ever the neutral one, gave a quick glance over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the silence. "Well, we're just hanging out. If you need something, I'm sure you can find it elsewhere in the neighborhood."
He wasn't being rude intentionally, but something in his tone made you think Jay was ready for this interaction to be over. He wasn't wrong. You weren't sure how to handle this, how to fit the person from your past into this new life that felt so different from everything that had come before.
For a moment, Heeseung hesitated, as if unsure of what to do next. He stood there for a second, his hands still tucked into his jacket pockets. He didn't push further, but the awkwardness was palpable. He didn't ask to come inside, and you didn't invite him in. He just lingered, standing on the threshold, his gaze never leaving you.
"Are you just visiting?" you asked, your voice too soft and unsure.
Heeseung nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just for a couple of days. It's for work, but I'll be here for a while."
You nodded back, unsure of what else to say. It didn't feel like he was here for some grand reunion, but it didn't feel like a simple neighborly visit either. The lingering question of why he'd chosen tonight—of all nights—to show up hit you like a quiet punch to the gut.
Jay, who had been watching quietly, seemed to sense your discomfort and stepped forward. He crossed his arms, blocking Heeseung from fully entering. His tone was calm but firm.
"Is that it?" Jay said, his voice low but pointed. "You can go now."
Heeseung didn't flinch. Instead, he glanced at Jay, confused but not deterred. "I'm not here to fight," Heeseung said, his eyes softening as he looked back at you. "I just... I wanted to talk. To explain things. We never really got closure, Y/N."
The request hung in the air, too heavy for you to ignore, but you didn't know what to say. Your mind was racing, trying to sort through the mess of emotions that had resurfaced. Before you could respond, Jake and Sunghoon, who had been lounging in the living room, finally noticed the shift and walked over, their expressions unreadable but attentive.
Jake was the first to speak, his tone casual, but the undercurrent of seriousness was unmistakable. "Not the right time, man," he said. "You should go."
Heeseung's eyes darted between the three of you, sensing the subtle but firm boundary you were all setting. He didn't back down immediately, though, his jaw tightening.
"Y/N, please," Heeseung pressed, his voice pleading now, the calmness starting to crack. "I've been thinking about everything. I know I messed up, but I... I want to try again. I just need you to listen—"
Seeing you back up unconsciously, Jay stepped forward without hesitation and raised his voice just enough to cut through the tension. "No. She doesn't need to listen to you. You've had your chance."
Sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice dry but light. "Did you seriously think she'd be interested in a visit from you right now?" His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Not exactly the warmest welcome, huh?"
Heeseung looked at him, caught off guard by the casual comment, but before he could respond, Jake spoke up. "Who are you, even?" His tone was laced with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.
Heeseung's eyes flickered between the three of them—Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay—his confusion mounting. "Who are these guys?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Why are they...?"
Jay didn't let him finish. He stepped forward briefly, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, his voice carrying a subtle yet undeniable firmness. "Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?"
The words hit Heeseung harder than expected. His face fell, a mix of hurt and frustration crossing his features, but Jay didn't give him a chance to respond.
Jay kept his gaze locked on Heeseung, not even blinking. "You need to leave," he said again, his tone now dangerously calm.
Heeseung's lips parted as if he was going to argue, but instead, he just sighed, his shoulders sagging. Without another word, he turned away, his footsteps retreating into the quiet night.
The door clicked shut with a finality that made you feel like you could finally breathe again.
There was silence for a few moments. You didn't know what to say, your mind still reeling from the confrontation. Jay moved away from the door, stepping back to stand beside you. He gave you a quiet glance but didn't press you for anything.
You exhaled, your body relaxing slightly as the tension began to dissolve. "I didn't... expect him to show up like that," you murmured, still shaken.
Sunghoon sighs lightly, crossing his arms with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, you don't have to tell us anything, don't worry, and hey, who would've guessed Jay's got that boyfriend vibe down already?" He chuckled, clearly amused.
Jake leaned back against the couch, arms crossed with an amused glint in his eyes. "Nah, Jay's too smooth for that. He just knew exactly how to handle it."
Jay shrugged, his usual calm composure in place. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all. Wouldn't be a good 'boyfriend' if I didn't defend my girl, you know?" he said softly, his gaze meeting yours for a moment longer than necessary.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You guys are ridiculous, you know that?" you muttered, though your voice held no real bite.
Sunghoon winked at you from the side. "We'll keep being ridiculous. You seem to like it, anyway."
You shook your head, the warmth of their teasing finally washing over you. "Yeah, I suppose," you said with a soft sigh.
Jake nudged you with his elbow. "Just don't forget who's got your back, yeah?"
You glanced over at him, then at Sunghoon, who had a sly smile on his face. "I won't forget. Thanks, guys."
Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "If I were you, I'd make sure Heeseung doesn't return. I'm not giving up this 'boyfriend' role anytime soon."
"Fake boyfriend, don't get too ahead of yourself there," Jake interjects, his tone hinting at something you can't really pinpoint.
You let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. "You're all nuts," you said, but the fondness was evident in your voice.
Sunghoon leaned back, stretching his legs out. "I'm pretty sure we're not the only crazy ones in this room."
The rest of the night was easy and light, with the boys joking and talking. For the first time in a while, you felt like maybe things were starting to feel a little more normal.
The soft rays of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the living room floor. You woke up slowly, the warmth of a blanket draped over you, the smell of something delicious filling the air.
You blinked, adjusting to the light. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and you realized with a start that you had somehow ended up curled up on it. Your body was stiff from the position, but you didn't mind. The night had been an unexpected mix of awkwardness and something more, and you weren't sure if it was the exhaustion or the intimacy of the situation that made you feel so strangely content.
But what caught your attention first wasn't the gentle stirrings of the morning. It was the sound of someone humming softly in the kitchen, the soft clinking of pots and pans. You turned your head and spotted Jay in the kitchen, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan. The light from the windows caught in his hair, and you had to admit—he looked good in the morning light, effortlessly natural, like this was just another day.
You blinked again, still trying to shake off the sleep. The two others—Jake and Sunghoon—were still fast asleep on the couch beside you.
You chuckled softly to yourself. "Well, that's one way to start the day."
Jay turned at the sound of your voice, giving you a smile that was a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "Morning, sleepyhead. You slept well?"
You nodded, pulling yourself up into a sitting position. "Yeah, surprisingly. But I need to head back to my house and shower. I've got some chores to do and… I don't know, just need a fresh start to the day."
Jay chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, before you go, you've gotta eat something. I'm making breakfast. Don't leave on an empty stomach."
You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of guilt. "I should really head home, Jay. I can't stay."
"Come on, just a quick bite," he insisted, moving to plate a couple of eggs and toast. "You've been through a lot. Let me take care of you for today."
You gave in, your stomach grumbling at the smell of food. "Okay, fine. But just a little."
Jay smiled as if he'd won a small victory, placing the plate before you. As you sat down at the kitchen island, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he moved around the kitchen, the way he worked with a confidence that seemed so natural.
"You sure you don't need help with that?" you asked, eyeing the rest of the cooking.
"Nah, this is easy," he said, shrugging it off. "Besides, you just sit there and enjoy the food."
With that, you dug in. It felt nice to eat something that wasn't takeout or microwaved food, especially after everything that had happened. The simple comfort of a home-cooked meal made you feel grounded, even for a moment.
Jay watched you quietly for a second before his voice broke the silence again. "So, how are you holding up after last night?" he asked casually, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.
You paused, swallowing your food before answering. "Honestly, I'm a little shaken. It was… unexpected. Heeseung showing up and everything. I wasn't ready for that."
Jay nodded, taking the seat beside you and setting his coffee down. "I get it. It wasn't easy for you. But you handled it well. I'm glad you didn't let him push you around."
You offered him a small smile, grateful for his support. "I don't think I could've if it weren't for you."
Jay waved it off, his usual confident demeanor slipping back in place. "It's no big deal. You know I've got your back, no matter what."
You finished your breakfast quietly, and the tension from the previous day slowly started to lift. As you got up to leave, you couldn't help but notice how Jake and Sunghoon were still fast asleep on the couch, tangled up in a rather ridiculous position. Ironically, Jake's arm was draped over Sunghoon, who had somehow ended up with his head on Jake's chest. They looked utterly oblivious to the world around them, peaceful in their shared slumber.
You chuckled softly to yourself. "They look ridiculous," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at their unexpected closeness.
Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You mean to tell me those two aren't a couple? They act like it."
"Definitely not," you said with a laugh, standing up from your seat. "But they seem pretty comfortable."
Jay shrugged, seemingly unbothered by their unusual position. "Whatever works for them. Alright, go on. I'll wake them up later."
You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it."
With a last glance at the boys, you made your way back to your house, the silence between you and Jay hanging in the air as he saw you out.
The morning light filtered through the trees as you walked back to your front door, and for the first time in days, you felt like things might be okay again.
The boys had done their best to distract you last night—keeping the mood light with inside jokes, teasing, and comfort in a way that only friends who felt like family could. But now, in the quiet of your own home, the buzzing noise in your head returned.
You needed to talk to someone who knew you. The one who had cried to the same two people through breakups, hangovers, panic attacks, and post-midterm breakdowns.
Taehyun and Kai were only a FaceTime away.
You hesitated at first, the weight of the call lingering in your thumb. What were you even going to say? "Hey, so my ex showed up, got wrecked by the new boys next door, and now I'm accidentally sort-of-fake-dating one of them?" It sounded absurd even in your head.
Still, you tapped the call button.
Within seconds, Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, his hair messily styled, the lighting behind him unmistakably warm and homey. He grinned like he'd been waiting for this call all day.
"Y/N!" he sang, dragging out your name with theatrical flair. "There she is. My emotionally unstable yet stunning bestie. What's going on? You look... tired. Did a raccoon break into your house? Or was it another boy this time?"
You rolled your eyes, a tired smile tugging at your lips. "You could say that," you murmured, settling back against the pillows. "Heeseung showed up."
Taehyun blinked. Then blinked again. "Heeseung as in your 'it's not you, it's my emotional immaturity' ex-boyfriend Heeseung?"
"That's the one."
Before he could respond, Kai appeared on screen too, plopping down dramatically beside Taehyun and stealing half the frame. "Wait. What? Heeseung? Like, showed up where? Your house? Your dreams? Or did he slither up through a sewer grate like the snake he is?"
You snorted, your fingers brushing your forehead. "At the boys' house. He came to their door asking for me. I don't even know how he found out I moved here."
Kai gave the camera an exaggerated squint. "Wait, wait. What boys? The hot ones you told us about?"
"Yes, those boys," you said, already regretting how many details you'd given them in past updates.
Taehyun leaned forward like he was watching a drama unfold in real-time. "Okay, okay, but what happened? You can't just drop a bomb and walk away. What did he say? What did you say?"
You hesitated, then let out a breath. "He wanted to talk. Said he missed me. Said he wanted to try again." You winced at the sound of it aloud. "I couldn't even get a word out before Jay stepped in."
Kai gasped with his whole chest. "Jay stepped in?"
You nodded, and your lips twitched at the memory. "Jay stepped in. He opened the door, didn't know who Heeseung was, but as soon as he realized he was asking for me, it was game over."
Taehyun narrowed his eyes. "Details. Don't skip. I want exactly what he said, including tone and any sassy eyebrow raises."
You burst into a laugh but relented. "He said, and I quote: 'I'm her boyfriend. Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?'"
Both boys screamed at the same time.
"OH MY GOD."
"HE DID NOT."
"That's so hot. I'm actually mad at you for living this rom-com instead of me," Kai was practically bouncing. "So wait. Heeseung just... believed him? And left?"
You nodded slowly. "Well, there was a lot of glaring, and Heeseung tried to argue. Like, 'Who even are you?' and Jay didn't back down. Jake and Sunghoon came out too. It was kind of intimidating."
"And you?" Kai asked, eyes softening a little. "What did you do?"
You shrugged, voice quieter. "Nothing. I just stood there. I couldn't speak. It all happened so fast. Jay... handled it."
There was a beat of silence. Then Taehyun's voice dropped, gentle. "How did it feel? Seeing Heeseung again?"
You bit your lip, unsure of the answer. "Like my past showed up uninvited. And suddenly, all the work I did to move on didn't feel real anymore."
Kai's teasing melted away as he leaned closer to the camera. "But you didn't let him back in. That's real. That's strength. Don't downplay that."
You swallowed, trying not to get choked up. "I just... I didn't expect Jay to do what he did. It was so fast. Like, suddenly, he was this—protective thing standing in front of me, and I didn't even ask for it."
"And you liked it," Taehyun said gently, not asking—knowing.
You looked away, then back. "Yeah. I did."
There was a silence. Then—
Kai smirked again. "So what you're telling us is... your hot neighbor fake-boyfriended your ex into running off into the night, and now you're feeling things."
Taehyun gasped. "Wait, you are! You're catching feelings! I knew it. You're soft for Blond Hero Boy."
You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. "I am not! I'm just confused. Okay? He was being nice. People can just be nice sometimes!"
Taehyun snorted. "Jay doesn't seem like the 'just being nice' kind of guy. He seems like the 'I'm gonna mean what I say and say what I mean' kind."
Kai nodded sagely. "That's boyfriend behavior, Your Honor."
You sighed again, pushing the pillow aside. "Okay, so maybe there's something. But I'm not doing this again. I don't want to jump into anything. Not now."
"Then don't," Taehyun said simply. "But don't run from it either. If he's good to you—and I mean really good—then maybe let yourself feel it. Even a little."
Kai added, his voice softer than usual, "No pressure, Y/N. Just take your time. But we've seen you after Heeseung. You were a shell. And now... even when you're tired and shaken, you're glowing a little again."
That hit somewhere deep. You looked at your screen, at your two best friends staring back with nothing but love and belief in their eyes, and something loosened in your chest.
"Thanks, guys," you whispered. "I don't know what I'm doing, but... I'm glad I have you."
Taehyun grinned. "Always. You don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just don't shut us—or them—out."
"And tell Jay he's officially on our radar," Kai added. "He's earned one gold star. We'll be watching."
You laughed through the lump in your throat. "You're the worst."
"We're the best," they said in unison.
You sat there for a moment, hugging your knees to your chest, the emotions swirling but no longer drowning you. Maybe you were still lost. But you weren't alone.
And that counted for something.
As the call wound down, you were just about to press "end" when Taehyun's voice stopped you.
"Wait," he said suddenly, his tone a little different this time—softer, sharper. "Before you go."
You blinked. "...Yeah?"
He leaned in, elbows on what looked like the arm of his couch. His expression had changed—less playful now. More knowing. The kind of look you hated because it meant he was about to say something that would hit you right in the gut.
"You keep talking about Jay," Taehyun said slowly. "But you've also been talking about Jake. And Sunghoon. Like... a lot."
Kai sat up straighter beside him, his brows furrowed in the same curious way.
Taehyun tilted his head. "And it's the way you say their names. Like you don't even realize it. You're not just grateful they're nice, Y/N."
You hesitated. Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to scoff, to deflect like you always did—but nothing came out.
Kai blinked. "Wait—hold on. Oh my god." He leaned toward the screen. "You've got feelings. For all three of them?"
"Wh—No!" you said quickly, too quickly. "I mean—" You buried your face in your hands for a second, groaning. "Maybe. I don't know. I didn't mean to get attached. It just… happened."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call. Not awkward. Just real. Like they were letting your confession settle.
Taehyun's voice was quiet when he finally spoke again. "You got attached because they treat you like you matter. That's not a crime, Y/N."
You stared at him, blinking against the sting in your eyes.
Kai, ever the mood-breaker, piped up. "Unless you pick the wrong one. Then it's a whole Netflix documentary. 'Small Town Girl, Big Emotions, and the Love Pentagon- wait no- Square Nobody Asked For.'"
You burst into a laugh-sob, tossing a pillow at your phone screen. "Kai, please."
"No, no, seriously!" he grinned. "The true crime vibes. The scandal. The heartbreak. I'm already imagining the moody cover art."
"Let her breathe," Taehyun said, though he was smiling too. Then he looked at you again, his tone gentler. "It's okay to be confused, Y/N. You just got out of something heavy. You moved. Your whole life shifted. Of course, things are messy."
"And they're really good to you," Kai added softly. "That's gotta be confusing too. When you're used to... less."
Your throat tightened. You looked down at your hands. "I just... I don't want to hurt anyone. Or ruin something good before it even starts."
"You won't," Taehyun said. "Not if you're honest. And not if you keep listening to what you want instead of what you're scared of."
You exhaled slowly, like something you'd been holding in for days had finally cracked open.
"Thanks," you said after a beat. "For not laughing. Or making me feel worse."
"Are you kidding?" Kai said. "This is prime drama. I'm invested now. You better give us updates, or I'll report you for emotional withholding."
You couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay. I will. Just… let me figure things out first."
Taehyun gave you a slight nod. "Take your time. But remember—you're allowed to want good things. Even if they scare you."
You groaned into your hands as they burst out laughing.
"Can I just live in denial for like... two more days?" you muttered.
"Absolutely not," Taehyun grinned. "But you can take your time. Just don't run from it."
Your chest tightened, but you managed a small smile. "Okay. Thanks. For real this time."
Taehyun winked. "Anytime, dummy."
You didn't see the boys that morning after you returned from your house—just a quick wave across the street, through the window when you noticed Jake cleaning their living room. The space was nice. You'd needed a moment to breathe, to let your conversation with Taehyun and Kai sink in without your thoughts getting swallowed by someone else's presence.
But by mid-afternoon, you found yourself hovering at your front door with no real excuse, sipping on an iced coffee that had already melted too much to taste good. The ache in your chest hadn't left, but it had shifted—less grief, more confusion. More… longing.
Your phone buzzed.
Jay: You alive over there? Jake says if you’re ghosting us he's throwing your feel better cupcakes in the trash.
You smiled a little, thumbs already moving.
You: Was planning to. But now I'll come over just to save the cupcakes.
A few seconds later, another text popped up.
Jay: Backyard. It's nice out. Jake's trying to work the grill, says he has to keep the Aussie in him by having shrimps on a barbie.
You chuckle, setting your phone down, and slipped on your sandals before heading next door.
You found Sunghoon first, sitting under the patio umbrella with headphones half-on, scrolling on his phone. He looked up as you approached, and for a second, his usual aloofness cracked into something soft.
"You came back," he said, setting his phone aside.
You shrugged, settling in the chair beside him. "Cupcakes were on the line. I couldn't let that kind of injustice happen."
He smiled faintly, eyes lingering on you a second longer than they needed to.
"They're actually kind of awful," he said. "Don't tell Jake."
You leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm telling him the second I see him."
There was a pause, comfortable but weighted in a way that made your heart flutter just slightly.
"You okay?" Sunghoon asked, voice lower now.
You nodded. "Getting there."
His eyes searched yours for a moment before he gave the slightest nod. "You don't have to pretend with us. You know that, right?"
You didn't respond, just gave him a tiny smile. But your chest squeezed a little tighter when he looked away—like he was trying not to say more.
When you went to the backyard, you could smell a faint… burnt smell.
Jake was by the grill, battling it like it owed him money. His tongue poked out slightly as he focused, a crease between his brows.
"Planning to burn the house down?" you called out.
Jake was startled, clutching his chest dramatically. "You can't just sneak up on a man like that, Y/N! I almost died."
You laughed and leaned on the counter beside him. He grinned, cheeks slightly pink.
"Yeah, but it's not the same. You didn't wake us up and say bye, plus it's boring without you." His words were light, teasing—but his eyes were sincere.
You tilted your head, touched by how easily Jake could make everything feel lighter. "Thanks, Jake. Really."
He offered you a crooked smile, bumping your shoulder playfully. "Anytime. I'm basically your emotional support golden retriever now."
You laughed, the sound easing some of the lingering tightness in your chest.
“Y/N!” You hear Jay call you as he lounges on his chair, sunglasses on.
Jake returns to batting the grill, "Go hang with Jay for a bit, don't leave your fake boyfriend hanging."
You leave him to battle it out with the grill and walk up to Jay. When he noticed you, he removed his sunglasses and patted the free chair beside him.
"Back from your dramatic self-imposed exile," he teased, his voice warm.
"I'm not that dramatic," you said, settling beside him.
Jay tilted his head thoughtfully. "You ghosted us for five hours and almost rejected my cooking. Kinda dramatic."
You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You practically forced me to eat."
He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I figured you might not eat otherwise. It wasn't great, but the thought counts," Jay leaned back on his palms, watching you carefully. "Last night… I didn't mean to overstep. With the whole boyfriend thing."
You shook your head quickly. "No. You didn't. Actually… it helped."
Jay's gaze sharpened, almost unreadable. "Good. 'Cause I wasn't bluffing."
You blinked, heart catching.
"Protecting you?" he added easily, though his voice had a rougher edge to it now. "I meant that."
The space between you crackled, something fragile and electric.
You licked your lips, your voice smaller than you meant for it to be. "Thanks. For being there."
Jay looked away like it was too much to say more right now. "Always, Y/N."
The air hung heavier after that. Jake called from the grill, and Sunghoon pulled out a speaker to play music. The atmosphere returned to easy banter, but you could still feel the shift, as if an invisible string had tied itself between you and each of them.
You hadn't meant for this to happen.
You hadn't meant to start caring about all of them.
But you had.
And you didn't know what to do about it.
The night had wound down slowly after the backyard hangout, laughter trailing like a warm aftertaste. Jay had gone inside first, muttering about finishing laundry. Sunghoon had followed not long after, faking a dramatic yawn and saying something about beauty sleep.
Jake stayed.
You hadn't planned on walking home with him. You hadn't really planned on anything. But when he nudged your shoulder and said, "Let me walk you to your door," it felt too natural to say no.
The air was cooler now and quiet in the neighborhood. Your sandals clicked softly on the pavement, and the stars were clear—many more than you were used to seeing.
Jake glanced at you a few times, each followed by a quick glance forward again, like he was trying not to stare.
When you reached the little gate to your yard, you stopped. So did he.
You turned to him. "Thanks for—"
"You make me feel like I'm in a constant rom-com," he interrupted, voice light but shaky around the edges. "The bad kind. The pining one."
You blinked. "Jake—"
"I mean it," he added, eyes locked on yours now. "You say something, laugh, or even just show up, and it messes with my whole day. In a good way. But also in a really confusing way because I don't know if I'm allowed to want this."
He exhaled, hands half-tucked into his hoodie. "But I do."
It was soft. Honest.
You stepped forward, heart thudding. "You're not the only one confused."
Jake's hand brushed against yours like he wasn't sure if he should touch you. You took it.
The kiss was sudden but not rushed. It was warm and searching, the kind that felt like a question and a relief simultaneously. Jake kissed like someone who'd thought about it a lot. Like someone who wasn't sure he'd ever get to.
It deepened quickly—hesitant hands turning bolder, breaths coming quicker, your back bumping lightly against your front door as he murmured your name like a prayer.
Somewhere between lips and soft gasps, you led him inside.
You didn't talk much as you moved through your house. The silence was heavier than awkward—anticipation, nerves, and want all tangled together. His fingers trembled slightly when they brushed your arm.
In your room, he paused.
Jake cupped your face, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours.
"Tell me if I need to slow down," he whispered. "Or stop. I don't want this to be a mistake."
You looked up at him—Jake, who wore his heart so easily, who made you laugh when you didn't want to, who had just confessed in the softest way.
You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his as he settled onto your bed, leaning back against the headboard. His hands found your hips and moved you to sit on top of him, soft lips hungry for more of your touch, and his mind went blank. Soon, soft kisses grew more eager as your touch consumed his thoughts. Your hands framed his face, and his wandering hands snuck under your sweater and felt along your spine before swiftly removing it.
Time seemed to blur as you continued kissing passionately, hands exploring but staying within comfortable boundaries. He didn't rush you, even as your effect on him was evident. Instead, he maintained a shared rhythm, making you feel cherished.
Eventually, the intensity of your kisses led you to pull back, your lips tender. His breathing was heavy, and his hair was disheveled. Your hands then moved down his front, taking off his jacket. Though you felt you were undressing him quickly, it wasn't fast enough for him. He turned you onto your back and swiftly pulled off his shirt. You then removed your bottoms, watching as he revealed his entire body.
You leaned back, supporting yourself with your hands, to meet his kiss. As your mouths met and tongues intertwined, his hands moved down your back, deftly unclipping your bra. A soft gasp escaped you, immediately captured by his kiss as he slid the straps off your shoulders, letting your bra fall away. You slowly sank back into the pillows as he trailed kisses down your neck, gently guiding you to lie entirely on your back.
He continued with wet kisses from your neck to your chest, his hands lightly tracing your ribs as you arched towards him, your breath coming in short gasps. A sigh escaped you at his tender touch, and he then cupped your breast, softly squeezing it before his lips found your hardening nipple.
"Is this good?" Jake murmured a hint of shyness in his voice, his tongue briefly touching your nipple as his thumb gently brushed over it, feeling it firm. You were almost speechless as he repeated the gesture a couple of times. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a few times.
You let out a soft whine, shifting restlessly for more of his touch. He glanced up at you, his hair falling across his eyes, and playfully flicked his tongue against your nipple while his other hand caressed your other breast. Jake then continued his kisses down your stomach. With a slight, frustrated sound, he sat back, his gaze sweeping over your nearly bare body. He then lifted your legs onto his shoulders, sliding the last piece of clothing off you and tossing it onto the floor with the rest.
"Have you been hiding this gorgeous body from me?" Jake murmured, finally pulling down his pants and quickly taking off his briefs at the same time. He barely gave you a moment to take in his body, your eyes briefly drawn to his erection before he leaned in for another kiss. "If I had known your body was as beautiful as your face, I wouldn't have hesitated to tell you how I felt about you."
Clearly captivated by your chest, he returned to your breasts, hungrily latching onto a nipple, abandoning any further words as he immersed himself in your warmth. After you softly whined, he pulled back slightly and lifted your right leg, bending it towards your stomach, which further exposed your aroused state to his eager gaze. The glistening wetness of your folds caught his attention, making him run his tongue along his lower lip.
Jake's attention was entirely on your pussy, his finger tracing the center where your arousal had pooled. The slick fluid coated his finger and your clit. A moan escaped you at the touch, your jaw relaxing as he gripped your hips with his other hand, pressing you firmly against the bed. Ensuring you stayed put, he lowered himself, his face settling between your legs as he sought a taste.
His lips were gentle against you, his eyes fixed on your swollen folds as his tongue traced the pool of your arousal. He practically sucked for a taste, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses on your center. You gripped the sheets tightly, your legs instinctively wanting to close, but his mouth followed your every movement.
Jake's breath hitched, though it seemed unimportant as he nipped and sucked at you, your clit rubbing against the tip of his nose. His focus was singular: your pleasure. He wanted to make you feel incredible, to erase thoughts of anyone else and fill your mind solely with him. Suddenly, his mouth closed over your stiffened clit, and he began to lick and suck, the wetness of your opening slicking his chin as he devoted himself to you.
You tasted incredibly sweet to him, driving him to the edge of his control as his erect cock moved restlessly against the bed. Your head was thrown back, lost in the sensations between your legs, your eyes glazed over as you moaned at the ceiling. Jake watched you surrender to his touch, his hand sliding along your body, feeling the deep breaths that hollowed your stomach as he cupped your breasts. His fingers were slick with your arousal, and he used them to coat your nipples, rubbing them as his mouth continued to pleasure you intimately.
You were consumed by the ecstasy of his mouth on you. You couldn't recall the last time someone had touched you like this, bringing you such pleasure. It certainly hadn't been with your ex, whom you'd stopped being intimate with long before the breakup, and even then, he never made you feel this way.
"Oh—" you moaned softly, your hands in his dark hair, gently holding him close. He remained silent, simply guiding you towards orgasm, feeling the tremors in your legs and the catch in your breath. Your clit pulsed in his mouth, and he soothed the intense sensation with tender lips and gentle lapping of his tongue as you descended from the peak of your pleasure.
"Condom?" you asked, playfully nipping his lower lip. He nodded, and you reached blindly for one in your nightstand drawer.
"Looks like you were prepared," he said, raising an eyebrow.
"You never know what could happen when you have hot men as your neighbors."
He watched as you slid the condom onto his fully erect member, which bounced slightly. He placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him. The expression on your face as you lowered yourself onto him was beautiful, and you exuded a confident eagerness that he hadn't seen before.
He resisted the urge to move, wanting this to be pleasurable for you as well and let you adjust. "Jake," you murmured, your hands flat on his chest, which accentuated your breasts. He carefully shifted his hips, pressing just a little deeper.
"That's it, baby," he breathed, watching your hair fall forward as you focused on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him, and he watched your body tremble with pleasure. The way you moved captivated him, and he couldn't help but lean up to kiss one of your breasts as you rode him for the first time.
He then groped your ass, spreading your cheeks and thrusting deeply as you threw your head back with a whimper. "Feels good," you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing him tightly against your chest as he bounced you, moaning against your nipples and leaving trails of saliva. His nails dug into your skin as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.
He felt restricted, unable to move his hips as much as he desired. With a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, your knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Fuck, I can't," he muttered, perhaps meaning he couldn't hold back much longer.
You barely registered his words as Jake began to thrust deeply inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours with each powerful movement. A familiar wave of sensation tightened around his member as your body gripped him. He knew he wouldn't last much longer either.
"Gonna cum for me, baby?" he asked softly, kissing your jaw and holding your waist as he thrust deeply, feeling your nails dig into his back.
"Please," you begged, snuggling into his neck, and his chest tightened with desire. He put more force into his thrusts, bringing you and himself to the brink of climax. Your pleas were too enticing to ignore.
A wave of intense pleasure washed over you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as a shiver ran through you. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, reaching another climax. Jake couldn't hold back any longer, and your legs wrapped around him gave him no choice but to drive the rest of his length into you until he came into the condom.
You lay together for a moment, his fingers gently combed through your hair, and you straightened your sore legs as he pulled out.
You remembered little else besides the growing drowsiness as he cleaned you up thoroughly. He then laid back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body, and fell asleep with you in his arms.
The sunlight was creeping in through the edges of the curtains, soft and golden, warming the skin on your back. But inside, you were anything but warm.
Jake's arm was still resting loosely over your waist, but his breathing had shifted—less even, more aware. Still, you stayed still, pretending not to notice. Pretending the tangle of thoughts in your head wasn't growing louder with every passing second.
Last night shouldn't have happened. Or maybe it should have. Perhaps that was the problem—you didn't know anymore.
You bit down on your lip, trying not to overthink it, but of course, you were. How could you not? Because, yes, Jake had looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He'd kissed you like he meant it, held you like he wanted to stay. He was sweet, nervous, and kind in a way that made your heart ache.
But that ache wasn't just for him.
It throbbed a little when Jay hovered near you in the quiet when his voice dipped low and protective. It flickered when Sunghoon offered you tea without asking and sat beside you in a silence that felt like understanding.
You weren't supposed to fall. You definitely weren't supposed to fall in three directions at once.
You sighed and slowly pulled the blanket back, slipping out of bed as gently as you could manage. Jake shifted behind you, a soft rustle of sheets and a sleepy exhale.
You padded to the doorway of the bedroom, pausing there as your fingers brushed the frame.
"You're thinking way too hard for this early in the morning," Jake said, voice low and hoarse with sleep.
You turned, startled to see him already sitting up. His hair was a mess, his eyes half-lidded and squinting against the light, but his smile was genuine. Sleepy. Soft.
He rubbed a hand over his face, then met your eyes.
"Pancakes or silence?"
You blinked at him, then let out a breath of a laugh. "I should be the one asking if you want breakfast."
Jake shrugged, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. "Just figured one of us should say it."
He walked toward you, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he just brushed a hand against your waist as he passed, making his way to the kitchen like it was nothing. Like this could be normal.
And maybe it could be. But that was the part that scared you.
You stood there a moment longer, your heart knotted and heavy in your chest. Last night had been real. Jake had been real.
But so were the butterflies when Jay looked at you like you were a mystery he wanted to solve. And so was the warmth in your chest when Sunghoon noticed the things you never said.
You weren't just in trouble—you were in it.
And you had no idea what to do next.
You were back on their couch again. Same spot. Different atmosphere.
Sunghoon was flipping through a game catalog on the TV, Jay was curled up in the corner scrolling on his phone, and Jake was… somewhere to your right. Close, but not close enough to pretend nothing had changed.
Because something had changed.
You hadn't talked about it. Neither of you had brought it up since this morning. Not the kiss. Not the night. Not the way you'd fallen asleep tangled in each other's arms like something out of a dream.
You were hyper-aware of his presence now—the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours when he shifted, how his fingers twitched a bit like he wanted to say something and couldn't.
You wanted to say something too. But what? That you didn't regret it? That you did?
You hugged your knees tighter against your chest.
Sunghoon looked over from the floor and blinked. "Did one of you guys fight or something?"
Jay glanced up from his phone. "No. Why?"
Sunghoon made a little gesture between you and Jake. "You're acting weird."
Jake coughed. "What? I'm not weird. You're weird."
"Excellent comeback," Jay muttered under his breath.
"I'm just tired," you added quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Didn't sleep much."
Sunghoon raised a brow, clearly not buying it, but didn't push. "Right."
Jay, meanwhile, didn't say anything—but you could feel his gaze flicker toward you for a second too long. Observing. Thinking. Like he was putting a piece of something together.
Jake shifted beside you, tapping his fingers against his thigh. You knew he wanted to reach for you. Say something. Break the awkward tension before it cracked open the floor.
But he didn't.
And neither did you.
The controller passed hands. The banter continued. But the tension between you and Jake hung thick in the air—a quiet, unspoken question waiting for someone to be brave enough to answer it.
You thought you'd successfully slipped away.
The others had gotten caught up in some co-op game, and you'd taken the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen for water and, if you were being honest, space.
Your fingers curled around the glass a little tighter than necessary.
You didn't regret what happened with Jake. Not really. But now that the weight of it had settled and the quiet had crept in, the real thoughts were crawling up the back of your spine like vines—tangling everything you'd carefully compartmentalized.
Footsteps padded in behind you, and you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.
Jay leaned casually against the fridge, arms crossed, blonde hair slightly messy from lying down.
"So," he said, his voice low and mild. "You and Jake, huh?"
You froze mid-sip. "What?"
"Come on." He tilted his head, amused. "I may be dense sometimes, but I'm not blind. Or deaf. You both looked like you'd seen a ghost earlier. That, or you stuck your tongues down each other's throats and forgot to talk about it."
You winced. "That's… weirdly specific."
He smirked. "Because it's accurate?"
You didn't answer. You couldn't.
Jay's expression softened just a little. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. I just… noticed. Jake's been looking at you like you hung the stars lately. And now you won't even make eye contact."
You finally met his gaze, lips parted like you might try to defend yourself. But then you stopped. Because what was the point?
"We didn't fight," you said eventually. "It's just… complicated."
Jay nodded slowly, as if he understood more than he was letting on. "He's a good guy. He won't push you. But he's also not gonna pretend it didn't happen."
You blinked. "Are you—are you okay with it?"
He shrugged, glancing away for a moment. "Do I get a say?"
You stared at him, trying to read between the lines. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something rawer under the surface.
"I don't know," you said quietly. "Maybe."
Jay exhaled, then gave you a crooked smile. "Well. For what it's worth, you could've done worse."
That made you laugh—a soft, startled sound that briefly broke the tension.
"I just…" you started, but the words tangled. You looked down. "I didn't mean to get attached."
Jay didn't say anything.
"It just… happened."
When you finally glanced back up, Jay was watching you—really watching—with a kind of quiet understanding that made your chest ache.
"I know," he said, following it with a whisper, "just wished it happened to me instead."
And somehow, that was worse than if he'd said nothing at all.
"Yo, are you guys gonna make out in the kitchen or come pick your Mario Kart characters?"
Sunghoon's voice floated in from the living room, teasing and light. He was completely unaware of the emotional bomb that had just gone off between you and Jay, or he did but refused to acknowledge it.
You blinked, startled by the call, then glanced at Jay. He didn't say anything—just pushed off the fridge and gestured toward the door with a subtle tilt of his head.
"Let's go," he said.
You followed, heart suddenly heavy.
The game resumed. Laughter picked up again. Jake nudged your shoulder once when you sat beside him but didn't push when you didn't respond with your usual sass.
You smiled weakly. Tried to play like nothing had changed. But the echo of Jay's voice wouldn't leave your head.
The shift was subtle at first. A lingering glance here. A missed joke there. The group dynamics still flowed, but you could feel it—like something had been shaken and hadn't settled back into place.
Jake didn't press. He still smiled at you, still offered you the last slice of pizza, still handed you the extra controller. But the softness in his eyes was quieter now. Like he was waiting to see what came next.
Jay avoided being alone with you.
Sunghoon seemed to be the only one who hadn't picked up on the tension—or if he had, he had expertly ignored it, choosing to be the glue that kept everything together—the buffer.
You were grateful for him.
But your head was a mess.
And no matter how often you told yourself to figure it out, to pick a lane, your heart kept tugging in three different directions.
It was late. You couldn't sleep. The quiet of your own house felt stifling, and your thoughts were too loud.
So you stepped outside.
The breeze was cool, the streetlights casting soft shadows against the pavement. You wrapped your arms around yourself, intending to sit for a few minutes on your porch step.
But someone was already there.
Jay. He was sitting cross-legged on your porch, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes distant and fixed on the sky.
You stopped mid-step.
He looked over as if he'd known you were coming. "You always sneak out like this?"
A beat passed before you answered. "Only when I'm being chased by my own thoughts."
Your voice came out a little sharper than intended. You walked toward him, stopped in front, but didn't sit yet.
"Finally stopped avoiding me?" you asked, your tone light—too light and a little bitter.
Jay's jaw twitched.
You sighed, dropping your gaze. "Sorry. That was… I didn't mean it like that."
"No, it's fair," he said quietly. "I was avoiding you."
You sat beside him, silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket stretched too thin.
Then, softly, you broke it. "I like all three of you."
His head turned toward you.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," you added quickly. "I didn't come here expecting to feel anything for anyone. But now I'm just—stuck. Because I care about you. And Jake. And even Sunghoon. I'm not trying to mess with anyone, I swear, I just…"
You exhaled hard.
"I'm overwhelmed," you whispered.
Jay didn't respond right away. Just stared ahead, hands curled into loose fists on his lap.
Finally, he said, "You know what the worst part is?"
You looked at him.
"I still want you," he murmured. "Even if you're not just mine."
The words punched through your ribs, and suddenly, you couldn't stay still.
You reached for him.
And he met you halfway.
The kiss was slow initially, tasting of hesitation and too many unsaid things. But it deepened quickly—days of tension and confusion, unraveling into something heavier. His hand gripped your waist like he couldn't let go.
"Come with me," he said against your lips.
Up the stairs to his room, where he closed the door behind you. Where the only light came from the hallway, casting long shadows across the floor.
He stepped close again. His eyes were darker now, not just with desire, but something more.
"You need to be quiet," he whispered, voice low against your ear. "Unless you want them to know that you're mine for tonight."
The thrill of the night shot through you. You nodded in silent agreement, tightening the coil of anticipation in your stomach. His hand, still warm from your waist, trailed up your arm, sending shivers across your skin despite the cool night air. He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft curve, and you leaned into his touch, wanting more.
His other hand found the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms without a word, allowing him to slide it over your head. The dim light painted your bare skin, and you watched his eyes darken further as they roamed over you. A possessive glint sparked in their depths, a silent claim that sent a shiver of excitement mixed with nervousness down your spine.
He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers surprisingly deft, and the delicate lace fell away, freeing your breasts. You held your breath, the air suddenly thick with unspoken desires. His gaze lingered, heavy and intent, before he finally lowered his head, his lips brushing against your collarbone.
"Mine," he murmured against your skin, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. He trailed kisses along your neck, each touch sending a jolt of heat through your veins. You tilted your head back, offering him more, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair.
His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your hips, pulling you closer until you were flush against him. You could feel the hard bulge pressing against your pajama bottoms, a blatant reminder of his desire. A soft gasp escaped your lips.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his voice rough with wanting.
You didn't need words. Your hands found the edge of his hoodie, pulling it over his head. His bare chest was revealed, the faint moonlight highlighting the lean muscles. You ran your palms over his warm skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.
He groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, the kiss now urgent and demanding. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting of longing and a desperate need to possess.
With a shared urgency, you both began to shed the remaining layers of clothing. His pants were quickly discarded, revealing the thick length straining against his briefs. You fumbled with the drawstring of your pajama bottoms, and they slid down your legs, pooling at your ankles.
He stepped back, his eyes devouring your naked form in the dim light. You felt a flush creep up your neck, a mixture of shyness and arousal. But the possessive look in his eyes fueled a boldness within you. You met his gaze, letting him see the desire that mirrored his own.
He reached for you again, his hands sliding around your waist, lifting you until your legs wrapped around his hips. The sudden friction against his hard length through his briefs made you gasp. He carried you a few steps, until the back of your legs bumped against the edge of his bed.
He didn't break eye contact as he lowered you, your bare skin sliding against his clothed lower half. The contact was electric, a spark that ignited a fire in your core. He leaned down, his lips nuzzling your neck again.
"Tonight," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "you're all mine."
And as he finally shed his briefs, revealing the full, throbbing length of his desire, you knew he meant it.
His hands tightened on your thighs, guiding you closer until the slick head of his cock pressed against your wet folds. A gasp hitched in your throat, the intimacy of the contact stealing your breath in the dimly lit room. He paused, his dark eyes searching yours, a silent question swirling between you. You answered with a slow, deliberate nod, your hips instinctively arching, a silent plea urging him closer.
"God, you feel so good already," he breathed, his voice a low, husky tremor against your ear, laced with a raw desire that mirrored your own.
With a low groan that resonated deep in his chest, he finally pressed forward. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp intake of breath escaping your lips as his thick length stretched you, filling you completely. A wave of sensation, a potent mix of pleasure and a fleeting moment of intensity, washed over you. He remained still for a heart-stopping moment, allowing your body to adjust to his size, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets beneath your entangled limbs.
"So tight," he murmured, a possessive edge to his tone, a hint of a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as if claiming a long-desired prize.
Then, he began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that rocked your hips against his. Each measured slide sent a ripple of heat expanding from your core, an ache that intensified with every inch he pushed deeper inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your fingernails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders, clinging to him as if he were your only anchor.
"Jay," you whispered, your voice a breathy plea, raw with the burgeoning sensations he was igniting within you.
His kisses grew more urgent, his mouth claiming yours in a hungry exploration, devouring your soft lips as his pace quickened. The rhythm he established was primal, demanding, a relentless tide pulling you under, and you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving together in an ancient, desperate dance of yearning. The air grew thick with your mingled breaths, soft moans escaping your lips like whispered secrets.
He trailed hot, wet kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, sending shivers of pure delight cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely, possessively cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your aching nipples until they were hard, throbbing peaks begging for more of his touch.
"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked, his voice thick with lust, the question more of a statement as he felt your involuntary response.
"Mmm-hmm," you moaned, your head lolling back, arching your back in a silent offering, your hips bucking against his with an increasing, desperate urgency. The friction was exquisite, building a searing pressure deep within you, a coiled spring threatening to shatter your carefully constructed control. A soft cry escaped your lips as the first undeniable wave of pleasure washed over you, your inner muscles clenching around him in a tight embrace.
He felt your release, the intense, shuddering grip around his cock, and his own carefully leashed control began to fray. His thrusts deepened, became faster, driven by a primal need to reach the precipice with you. He groaned against your neck, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax.
"You're driving me fucking crazy," he muttered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, the words a testament to the intensity of your connection.
With a final, guttural cry that tore from his throat, he plunged deep, burying himself fully within you, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, as his body convulsed with the force of his release. The hot, thick spurts flooded you, a final, intimate claiming that sealed your connection for the night, a silent promise echoing in the darkness. You clung to him, your own body still quivering from the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling utterly spent, completely sated, and undeniably his at that moment.
He collapsed against you, his breathing ragged and uneven, his heart pounding a wild rhythm against your chest. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of your shared intimacy, broken only by the soft, contented sighs that escaped your lips. He nuzzled his face into the soft strands of your hair, his arms wrapped around you in a fiercely possessive embrace.
The room was still. Only the faint hum of the streetlights outside and the slow rhythm of Jay's breathing filled the silence now.
You lay tangled in his sheets, your head against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you even as your mind began to spiral. Everything had been so fast and intense— now it was just quiet.
And in the quiet, the guilt started to set in.
Jay's fingers traced slow, absentminded lines along your spine. But even that gentle comfort couldn't stop the ache from blooming in your chest.
"I should go," you whispered.
His hand stilled. You didn't lift your head, but you felt the shift in his body.
"Are you okay?" he asked, voice husky with sleep and something softer.
"Yeah," you said quickly, then shook your head. "No. I mean—I don't know. I just… I can't stay here. I can't face them in the morning. Not like this."
Jay didn't say anything for a moment. Then he exhaled. "Okay."
You looked up at him. "You're not mad?"
He met your eyes, something unreadable flickering in his. "No. I get it. It's a lot. You don't owe me anything more than what you gave tonight."
The knot in your chest tightened. "But I do. I shouldn't have—"
"Don't do that," he cut in gently. "Don't regret it."
You pressed your lips together, your throat tight. "I'm sorry," you said quietly.
He brushed your hair back from your face, fingers careful. "Don't be. I knew what this was."
You weren't sure if that made you feel better or worse.
He sat up slowly, pulling on a hoodie and offering you your clothes with a soft glance. "You want me to walk you back?"
You shook your head. "I'll be okay."
You dressed in silence, both of you moving like you didn't want to disturb whatever fragile peace had been carved out of the night.
At the door, you turned back. Jay leaned against the frame, arms crossed. He didn't look hurt. Just tired.
"Thank you," you said, voice barely audible.
He nodded. "Anytime."
And then you slipped out, into the cool night, back to your house next door.
Alone again.
And full of too many feelings for three boys who had no idea how much space they were taking up in your heart.
You hadn't slept much.
Your own bed, despite being familiar, felt too cold and too quiet. Your body still remembered Jay's touch, the warmth of his skin, and the way his voice had dropped when he told you to be quiet.
You pulled the blanket over your face.
What the hell were you doing?
You'd crossed a line. One you couldn't uncross. Not with Jake. Not with Jay. And the worst part was, Sunghoon's name still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind too.
You stayed in bed for as long as possible, pretending time would fold in on itself and save you from facing any of it.
But eventually, your stomach growled, and the sound of faint laughter and pots clanging across the street reminded you that life didn't stop just because you were emotionally fried.
When you finally made your way back over to the boys' house—barely knocking before letting yourself in like usual—you were met with the smell of eggs and toast, and the sight of Jake and Sunghoon crowded around the stove.
Jake looked up first. "Hey," he greeted, and his smile faltered for just a second—almost imperceptibly—before he forced it back on.
"Morning," you said softly, offering a small wave. You didn't miss the way your eyes slid away from his a beat too fast.
Sunghoon handed you a plate wordlessly, but his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, eyes quietly calculating. Like he was picking up on something you hadn't said yet.
"Where's Jay?" you asked, filling the silence and desperate to sound casual.
"Out back. He's fixing the stupid broken light again," Sunghoon answered, setting his own plate down on the table.
Jake nudged a chair out with his foot, gesturing for you to sit. You took it.
The awkwardness swirled like steam from your food.
No one said anything, not for a while. Not until Jake cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing his glass of water even though it was still full.
"I'm gonna help Jay," he muttered.
Neither you nor Sunghoon stopped him.
Once the door shut behind him, you looked down at your untouched plate, then up again—only to find Sunghoon still watching you, fork halfway to his mouth.
"You good?" he asked.
You hesitated. "Yeah. Just tired."
He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway.
You both ate in silence for a bit longer, though the air wasn't quite as heavy. But you could feel something shifting. You just didn't know what it meant yet.
You finished about half your plate before pushing it away, appetite lost to the fog settling over your chest. Sunghoon was still eating, but slower now. Like he was waiting for something. Or maybe just giving you time to speak.
“You’re quiet,” he finally said, voice gentle.
“I’m always quiet,” you deflected, eyes darting to the window, where you could just barely see Jake and Jay moving around the back porch.
Sunghoon smiled faintly. “You’re a different kind of quiet today.”
That made you pause.
You didn’t know what to say because he wasn’t wrong. You were being careful. Hesitant. Trying not to touch the edges of what happened last night or what it meant for the three boys sitting on the other side of it.
But Sunghoon wasn’t pushing. He just kept looking at you like he saw through the layers you were trying to keep up.
“I saw you leave last night,” he said finally, setting down his fork. “You didn’t come back.”
Your throat tightened. “Yeah.”
His voice was still calm. “Was it Jay?”
You looked at him then. Really looked.
And for the first time in days, you saw it—the softness around his mouth that had hardened. The slight crease in his brow. He already knew.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
Sunghoon exhaled, not in anger, but in some resigned version of understanding. His fingers tapped once on the table. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know,” you said, your voice small. “But I still feel like I’m screwing everything up.”
He gave you a look filled with more empathy than you deserved. “You’re not screwing it up. It just… hurts a little. That’s all.”
You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing.
Jay and Jake returned shortly after, and the rest of the morning blurred into a hazy half-day of almost normal. You all sat together in the living room, watching a movie none of you paid attention to. Jake kept fidgeting with the throw pillow. Jay barely spoke. Sunghoon… he sat the farthest from you.
You hated it. All of it.
The tension in the room felt unbearable, the silence so thick you could practically taste it. Sunghoon and Jake hadn't spoken much, still lost in their thoughts. You couldn't quite bring yourself to face them—especially after last night, after everything that had happened. You were caught in this strange, suffocating space between them, not knowing how to move forward.
The quiet stretched on for what felt like hours, but it was only minutes. You kept stealing glances at them, noticing the awkward glances they'd throw your way when they thought you weren't looking. You could feel the weight of their confusion, the heaviness of the unspoken things between you.
You opened your mouth several times, but the words always felt hard to say.
Finally, unable to stay cooped up inside anymore, you spoke up.
"Hey, Sunghoon," you began, voice small, hesitant. He looked at you, clearly surprised that you were addressing him. "You mentioned the rooftop… a while back. Can I… can I go up there for some air?"
You could hear the reluctance in your own voice, but there was also a desperate need to escape the oppressive tension in the house. You didn't want to be in the same room as any of them right now. Not with everything swirling in your head. Not when your heart was so tangled up in all of them.
Sunghoon hesitated, catching the tone of your voice. He nodded after a beat. "Yeah, of course. I'll show you." He stood from the table, motioning toward the door.
You followed him silently, grateful for the excuse to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind. He led you up the stairs and through the door to the rooftop. The cool evening air hit you immediately, the breeze brushing over your skin as you stepped outside.
It was quiet up here. The city stretched out before you, peaceful and calm in the twilight. But you didn't feel calm. You felt the opposite—a storm swirling inside your chest, the weight of your confusion pressing down on you.
Sunghoon didn't push you to speak. He just stood beside you, leaning against the railing, gazing out over the skyline. But after a while, you couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I—" You stopped yourself, realizing how vulnerable you were. You didn't want to break down here in front of Sunghoon. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.
"I don't think I can do this right now," you muttered, eyes fixed on the horizon. You didn't know what you were even talking about. Your words felt like they didn't belong in the same sentence. "I can't face them."
Sunghoon turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? You can talk to them."
You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. "I don't think I can. I don't even know what to say to them. Or to you." You let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. "I think… I think I need to be alone. I can't deal with all of this."
You felt his presence linger momentarily, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Okay. I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, you know where to find me."
And then he left. The door behind you clicked softly, leaving you with your thoughts.
The moment you were truly alone, the walls came crashing down.
You sat there on the cold rooftop, your back against the railing, knees pulled up tightly to your chest. The city spread out before you, but you couldn't see any of it clearly through the fog of your emotions. The tears wouldn't stop.
Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.
You hadn't meant for any of this to happen. You hadn't meant to let things get this messy. But here you were, caught in a web of emotions that felt too heavy to bear. You felt suffocated by your own thoughts, trapped by everything you couldn't control.
"I'm such a mess," you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the wind. You hated the way your words sounded. Pathetic. Weak.
But it was true. You were a mess. You'd let things get too tangled with the guys, let your feelings run wild without thinking of the consequences. And now, everything was breaking apart around you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tears that kept coming, but it was no use. They were unstoppable.
You weren't just crying for the mess between you and the boys. You were crying for yourself. For the way you had let everything slip out of control. You were disgusted with yourself—disgusted that you couldn't make a decision, disgusted that you couldn't keep your emotions in check.
How had you let things get this far? How had you ended up here, drowning in a sea of guilt and regret?
You didn't deserve any of them.
You didn't deserve to be loved by any of them. Not when you couldn't even figure out what you wanted. Not when you had let your emotions run wild and hurt the very people you cared about.
You covered your face with your hands, your chest tightening with each breath. "Why can't I just get it right?" you choked out, your voice breaking. "Why can't I just… know what I want?"
The tears came harder then, and you let them, unable to hold back any longer. You hated the feeling of weakness, hated that you were so torn up inside. You wanted to be strong, to have everything figured out. But you didn't. You were a mess, and you couldn't escape it.
"I'm so sorry," you whispered, the words more for yourself than anyone else. "I'm sorry for being this way."
It was so much. You could feel the weight of it crushing you, suffocating you with each breath. The silence of the rooftop only made it worse, amplifying the noise in your own head. You weren't sure how much more you could take.
And just as you were about to let the tears consume you completely, you heard footsteps behind you.
You wiped at your eyes quickly, trying to gather yourself, but it was too late. Sunghoon had already seen you.
"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice soft, almost too soft for the weight of the moment. You didn't even turn to face him. You didn't want him to see you like this, broken and vulnerable. But you could hear him moving closer, his footsteps steady and sure.
"I'm fine," you whispered, but it was a lie. You weren't fine. You were far from it.
He didn't say anything at first. Instead, you felt him sit down beside you, the warmth of his body a quiet presence against your cold, shaking form. His silence wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was… soothing. A small comfort in the chaos of your thoughts.
"You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N," he said softly, his tone steady but filled with understanding. "You don't have to hold it all in."
The words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, a sob broke free from your chest. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear that. How much you needed to hear that it was okay to fall apart, that it was okay to be weak.
"I'm so sorry," you whispered through your tears. "I'm sorry for everything. For making it so complicated. For hurting everyone. I didn't mean to. I never meant for any of this to happen."
Sunghoon didn't move. He stayed close, letting you cry, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.
"You're not hurting anyone," he said gently. "But you have to let yourself breathe, Y/N. You can't keep holding all of this in. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."
You shook your head, the tears still coming. "I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to do."
"I know," he said, his voice calm. "But you'll figure it out. You don't have to do it alone."
You laughed bitterly, looking at him then, even though your tears blurred your vision. "Look at me right now. I'm the one who's hurting you. I'm the one causing all of this, and yet here you are, comforting me." You swallowed hard, more tears slipping down your face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."
Sunghoon's hand moved to your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his touch, grounding you. "You're not dragging me into anything," he said softly. "I'm here because I care. I'm not going anywhere."
You shook your head, feeling a pit in your stomach. "I don't deserve this," you whispered, feeling utterly broken. "I don't deserve to have people like you care about me."
Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. Instead, he sat beside you, silent and steady, as if he were letting you say everything you needed to say, as if he knew that sometimes, there were no words to fix everything.
The tears slowed, but the weight in your chest didn't go away. You felt raw and vulnerable, like you had laid everything out in front of him. But something in the way he sat beside you—his quiet strength, his unwavering support—made it feel a little less like you were drowning.
Finally, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice soft, but full of warmth. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We'll figure it out. Together."
You nodded, your chest tightening again, but not from sadness this time. It was something else, something soft and almost like relief. The tension in your body didn't disappear, but somehow, it wasn't as heavy.
You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and something else you couldn't quite place. But before you could pull away, Sunghoon's voice stopped you.
"I know what happened with the other two."
Your heart stopped. You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. But there was no teasing in his expression, no sign of anger. Just calm understanding. Your chest tightened, and you felt a lump in your throat.
"I… I didn't mean for things to get so complicated," you whispered, your voice small, ashamed.
Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not mad, Y/N. I'm not angry. I understand."
You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You felt your mind spinning, all the thoughts crashing into each other. This—this thing you were doing, the mess you were making—it was all too much. You couldn't handle the guilt, couldn't deal with the weight of it anymore.
You turned your head, your hands shaking as you reached up to tie your hair up. You felt frantic, out of control, and the only thing that came to your mind was to offer something—anything—to make it right. To stop feeling so wrong.
"You—" you started, but your voice was shaky, desperate. "You want me to—want me to give you head? I could—" Your hands were still moving frantically, trying to tie your hair up, anything to stop the overwhelming pressure building in your chest. "I'll make it right, I'll do whatever you want, just… please, tell me what you want, and I'll do it."
You felt the panic rise in your throat, your breathing shallow, as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The sense of needing to fix everything by any means possible—it was overwhelming.
But Sunghoon's reaction wasn't what you expected. His hand gently caught yours, stopping your movements, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something softer than you had expected. There was no anger, no judgment. But there was something else—something that made your chest tighten even more.
He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Y/N…” His voice cracked a little, and you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You don't need to do that. You don't need to fix anything. You don't have to give me anything." His thumb gently brushed against your wrist, calming you in a way that no words could. "You don't need to make up for anything."
Your body froze, the reality of what he said hitting you harder than anything else. "But… I… I hurt you, Sunghoon. I hurt you all. I just… I don't know how to make it stop. I don't know how to fix this."
He shook his head softly, his voice quiet but full of emotion. "You don't need to fix anything, Y/N. You're not the problem. You're… you're human. You're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to be confused. Just… let yourself be okay with that."
Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren't full of guilt or panic. They were filled with something else. Vulnerability. Acceptance. The weight you'd been carrying felt lighter somehow, but the release of it only made the rawness of your feelings crash in on you harder.
"You don't have to apologize for everything," Sunghoon whispered, his voice soft. "You don't have to be perfect. You just need to let yourself feel. Let yourself breathe."
You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to break free, but they came anyway—hot and fast, rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't realized how much you needed someone to say that. To say you didn't have to fix everything, that it was okay to be lost for a while.
You let yourself lean into him then, letting the weight of everything go as he held you close.
Sunghoon didn't let go. He just held you—comforting, steady, as you cried, letting the tears wash away all the guilt and uncertainty you'd been carrying.
When the tears finally slowed, you pulled away, your face flushed from crying. You looked up at him, sniffing and wiping at your eyes, still feeling so vulnerable, so raw.
"I'm sorry," you whispered again, your voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'm doing."
Sunghoon's smile was small but soft, his eyes kind. "You don't have to know. Just… be you. That's enough."
You nodded, feeling a sense of peace that you hadn't expected to find so suddenly. But it was there, soft and comforting in his presence. It was enough.
Sunghoon's grip on your hands tightened just a little, like he was grounding you in this moment, as you slowly calmed down. He looked at you with that same calm and understanding expression, as if he wasn't about to rush you into anything—something that made the overwhelming pressure in your chest ease just a bit more.
"You don't have to make any decisions right now, Y/N," he said softly, his voice steady. "You don't have to choose between us right away." He took a deep breath, his eyes soft and earnest as he spoke, like he was giving you permission to take your time. "I'll talk to the guys. We'll figure this out together, okay? But you need to take some time to think, to breathe. We'll give you space to sort out your feelings. You don't have to make any decisions while you're still… figuring it out."
You swallowed, nodding slowly as his words sunk in. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't have to rush into anything. You didn't have to make some grand gesture to fix everything. You could just be—take things one step at a time.
His hand brushed against your cheek gently, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen during your moment of vulnerability. The gesture felt so tender, so comforting, like he was there, not to pressure you, but to support you as you figured out what to do next.
"I know it's a mess," Sunghoon said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "But we'll make it work, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere. None of us are." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "And neither are you."
You nodded again, this time feeling a bit more at ease. There was a deep part of you that appreciated the way he was handling everything—giving you space, but still offering his support, not expecting you to have it all figured out immediately.
"I'm sorry for making everything so complicated," you murmured, your voice small.
"Hey," Sunghoon said, his tone firm yet gentle, "You don't have to apologize for feeling things. You didn't ask for this mess, and you don't have to fix it all at once. Just… breathe. It's going to be okay."
You felt the last of the tension in your chest slowly start to unwind. His words, his presence, his understanding—they were a comfort, a balm to the rawness you'd been carrying.
"It'll be okay," Sunghoon added quietly, as if to reassure you further. "We'll figure this out. We're all in this together. And you don't have to do it alone."
You let out a shaky breath, feeling a tear slip down your cheek despite the calmness washing over you. But this time, it wasn't sadness—it was relief.
"Thank you," you whispered, the words coming out more heartfelt than you'd expected.
Sunghoon gave you a soft smile, nodding in reassurance. "Anytime, Y/N. Anytime."
For a while, the two of you sat there in silence, just sharing the moment. It wasn't easy, but it was a step toward something. Something that felt like understanding, something that felt like hope. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into that, to let the quiet moment settle in your heart.
Days after that moment with Sunghoon were filled with a haze of sleepless nights and quiet mornings. You'd distanced yourself—not because the boys pushed you away, but because they didn't. They gave you the space Sunghoon had promised. No probing questions. No passive-aggressive comments. Just… distance. And somehow, that hurt even more.
It was strange being in your own house again. The quiet felt unfamiliar. Cold. You had no one laughing in the next room. No shared meals or dumb banter or movies left half-watched on the couch. Just you. Alone with your thoughts.
Which was why, three days later, you found yourself curled up on the bed with your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for the FaceTime to connect.
"Holy finally!" Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, a dramatic groan escaping him as Hueningkai leaned over his shoulder, grinning.
"We thought you died," Kai added, waving. "Or worse—got a boyfriend and forgot about us."
You let out a laugh that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Not exactly."
Taehyun narrowed his eyes immediately. "Okay, what's wrong?"
"I—" You hesitated, fingers curling in the blanket bunched around your knees. "It's been… a lot."
Hueningkai sat up straighter. "This have something to do with the last time you called? The whole Jay-being-your-fake-boyfriend thing?"
You nodded slowly. "It's not fake anymore."
Taehyun's eyebrows shot up, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.
You swallowed. "Something happened. With Jake. Then… something else happened. With Jay. And then, I… I had a breakdown in front of Sunghoon. And that turned into a whole thing too."
It took a moment, but both of them visibly deflated. The teasing drained from their faces, replaced by concern and understanding.
You explained everything. Every confusing, tangled detail. The kiss at the gate with Jake. That night in your room. The aftermath. Jay on the porch. That night in his room. Sunghoon on the rooftop. The crying. The panic. The shame. All of it spilled out like floodgates had burst open.
By the time you finished, your eyes were glassy, and your throat ached from trying not to cry again.
"They've been nothing but good to me," you whispered. "And I just… keep messing it all up."
Taehyun was quiet for a beat, and then he said, "Y/N, you're not messing anything up. You're just human. This—what you're feeling—it's complicated, sure. But you're allowed to be confused. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."
Kai nodded slowly. "Honestly? It doesn't even sound like a love triangle. It's a love circle at this point."
That startled a laugh out of you, wet and breathless. "That's not helping."
"Okay, but listen," Taehyun cut in gently. "You've been through a lot. You moved, you got hit with Heeseung out of nowhere, and suddenly these guys show up who make you feel things you're not ready for. That's a lot."
"And none of them seem angry at you," Kai pointed out. "Which means they're probably feeling the same things you are. Scared. Confused. Maybe a little hopeful."
You looked down. "I feel gross."
"You're not," Taehyun said firmly. "You didn't lead anyone on. You're trying to be honest. It's just… messy. Love is messy. You know that better than anyone."
You let the silence sit for a moment, heart beating unevenly.
"I didn't mean to get attached," you said finally, your voice small, fragile. "I really tried not to. But it's like… it just happened when I wasn't paying attention. One second I was just grateful to have people being nice to me, and then…"
You trailed off, trying to catch your breath as the weight of your own confession settled around you.
Taehyun's expression softened. "And then it felt like home, didn't it?"
Your eyes stung. "Yeah."
Hueningkai leaned forward, his teasing long gone. "You let your guard down. That's not weakness, Y/N. That's trust."
"But that's the problem," you whispered, hands gripping the edge of your blanket. "I trusted too easily. I crossed too many lines. I hurt them. And I hate myself for it."
Taehyun shook his head slowly. "You didn't hurt them by feeling something. You didn't do anything wrong by catching feelings."
You blinked hard, looking away. "But I didn't just catch feelings for one of them. That's the part that makes me feel disgusting."
There was a beat of silence. Then Kai asked gently, "Do you regret any of it?"
Your stomach twisted. You thought about Jake's nervous laughter, Jay's quiet intensity, Sunghoon's unwavering calm.
"No," you admitted, voice cracking. "That's what scares me."
Taehyun's voice was firm but kind. "You got attached because they treated you like you mattered. Because they made you feel seen. That's not something you should punish yourself for."
Kai raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, unless you ghost them all and move to the states. Then maybe we'll judge you a little."
You snorted, wiping your face with your sleeve. "I thought about it."
"Don't," Taehyun said. "You're not broken. You're just… figuring it out. And they clearly care about you enough to give you time to do that. That says a lot."
You looked at both of them, your chest tight. "I don't deserve any of you."
Kai huffed. "Stop that. You do. You just forgot for a little while."
You nodded slowly, a breath catching in your throat. "I guess… I just don't know who I am without all the noise right now."
"Then this is the part where you find out," Taehyun said, his voice low but steady. "Take the time. Ask yourself the real questions. What do you want? Not who wants you. Not who needs you. You."
That settled deep in your bones—something real, something that hurt in a good way.
"Yeah," you whispered. "I will."
"Good," Kai said, relaxing back into the couch on his end of the call. "Because if we don't get a dramatic update soon, I swear to god, I will file a missing person's report. Emotionally."
You laughed wetly. "I love you guys."
"We love you more," Taehyun said, smiling. "Now go figure your shit out. We've got your back."
You hung up with a little more strength in your chest, but the decision still loomed over you like a shadow.
You'd opened your heart.
Now you had to decide what to do with it.
The following days blurred into one another like watercolor bleeding into paper. You existed in the quiet in-between, drifting from your room to the kitchen, out to the porch and back again. No more playful teasing from across couches. No more secondhand warmth in a home that wasn't yours but somehow had become one.
You didn't go over. Not even when you heard their laughter on the other side of the wall. Not even when silence settled in, and it felt like they were waiting.
Instead, you sat with it. All of it.
Your guilt. Your want. Your indecision.
You journaled. You overthought. You laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for hours, cycling through memories like some self-inflicted highlight reel—Jake's laugh against your skin, Jay's voice in the dark, Sunghoon's arms around you when you were breaking.
How could something that had made you feel so whole also tear you apart like this?
Sometimes you hated them for making you feel seen. Other times, you hated yourself for needing it so badly.
There was no clean answer. No neat conclusion. Only the dull ache in your chest and the knowledge that no matter what choice you made, someone was going to get hurt.
And you would lose something—someone—no matter what.
But you couldn't stay in limbo forever.
One night, just after the sun dipped low enough to tint the sky gold, you stood on your porch and stared at their door. Your feet carried you forward before your brain could protest.
The door opened too fast. Jake.
His eyes widened for a split second, but he stepped aside without a word, jaw tight.
Jay was sitting at the table. Sunghoon leaned against the back wall, arms crossed.
All of them looked like they hadn't slept right in days.
You didn't sit. You stood in the middle of the room and met all three of their gazes one by one. No more hiding.
"I'm sorry," you said first. "For all of it. For not knowing what I wanted. For dragging you through it."
Silence.
Then Jay's voice, low: "You don't have to apologize for feeling something."
"But I do," you insisted, voice cracking. "Because I didn't just feel something. I felt… everything. For all of you. And I didn't know how to stop it. I still don't."
Jake looked down. Sunghoon's jaw tensed. Jay didn't move.
Your throat burned. "I've spent days trying to figure it out. To pick a side. But the truth is… I loved the way Jake made me feel like joy was still possible. I loved how Jay made me feel safe. And I loved the way Sunghoon never asked me to be anything more than exactly what I was."
Jake swallowed hard. "Don't do this just to make us feel better."
"I'm not," you whispered. "I needed to say it. Because I don't know if I get to keep saying anything after tonight."
Still, none of them moved. The tension stretched like a held breath.
You stepped back, chest tight. "I've made my decision."
Their eyes snapped to yours.
"I know now," you said, voice low. Steady. "I know what I want."
The silence was sharper this time, a breath held between all of you.
Jake blinked, eyes searching. Sunghoon's lips parted, like he might speak but thought better of it. Jay looked down, then back up at you.
And then—you said it.
Just a name. Just once. And everything shifted.
Jake looked away first, nodding slowly, jaw tightening. No anger. Just acceptance.
Jay's eyes closed for a second—relief or heartbreak, you couldn't tell.
Sunghoon took the longest to react. He didn't move at all until finally, he exhaled. A soft breath, then a quiet, unreadable smile.
No one cried. No one yelled. No one left.
But you knew it was the beginning of something. And the end of something else.
You just didn't know yet what came after.
The camera was angled awkwardly, bouncing slightly as your phone leaned against the mirror. You were mid–toothbrush, foam clinging to the corners of your mouth, hair a mess from sleep and cheeks still warm from last night.
On-screen, Taehyun and Hueningkai were already in full chaotic mode.
"I'm telling you," Kai was saying, waving a spoon of cereal like it was a weapon, "this guy came up to me at the convenience store and asked if I wanted to buy his mixtape. I said no, and he still shoved it in my hand! Who carries CDs anymore?!"
Taehyun snorted. "You? Apparently."
You laughed through the foam in your mouth, spitting into the sink. "You have 'CD buyer energy,' Kai. Just admit it."
"Wow," he said flatly. "Betrayed by the one person I thought had taste."
As you reached for your towel, something behind you caught Taehyun's eye. He leaned closer to his screen.
"Wait…" he squinted. "Is that… is that an extra toothbrush?"
You froze for half a second. Just a beat. Then casually kept patting your face dry.
"What extra toothbrush?" you asked, too innocently.
Hueningkai leaned in now too. "Oh my god. It is! That's not yours. Yours is the purple one—who's the blue one?!"
"Must be a reflection," you said quickly.
"In the mirror?"
"Wouldn't you two like to know," you smirked, tossing the towel over the edge of the sink.
Taehyun's mouth dropped open. “Y/N—”
"Who is it?" Kai gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me you actually made a choice."
Before you could answer—or deflect again—a voice called faintly from offscreen:
"Babe! Did you see where I left my hoodie?"
You froze for just a second… and then smiled slowly.
"Bye!!" you said sweetly, grabbing your phone.
"WAIT—" Taehyun shouted.
"WHO'S WAITING FOR YOU?!" Kai screamed, full panic in his tone.
But you were already hitting end, cheek sore from grinning.
Somewhere behind you, footsteps padded closer. A soft laugh. And then a warm arm wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into the person you chose.
"Come on, the other two are already waiting for us."
Rei's Notes ✎: Uhm... hi? I'm back alive yippie!! I think a 22k fic is enough as an apology for how long I've been gone. To be honest I don't think I'm back at my peak motivation and skill to write yet but I owe you guys a story after a while. I still hope you enjoy it, especially since thees smut again teehee. Trying a new way to approach graphics too!! Decided to write a long one since I’m not sure how long til my next one. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts and how this made you feel so leave a reblog or reply!! <33
⟢ Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pagelets @isjsnsjsn @laylasbunbunny @riribelle @highway-143 @dearestdreamies @strxwbloody @deobitifull @enhaformysanity @httpenhoon @kissesfrombella @m1kkso @saejinniestar @mariegalea
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— yang jungwon made a pact with you, fair and square. if you're both single by 25, you date. simple. legally binding, if you ask him. jungwon is 22, three years is easy. the only problem is that you decided NOW would be the perfect time to start going on dates. with his best friend, riki, of all people. so jungwon arrives at the only logical conclusion available to him: sabotage. all of them. every single date. should be fairly simple :)
pairing: bsf! jungwon x female reader
warnings: a lot of my weird ass humor, like a lot, seriously; riki is a menace (endearingly), some riki x reader, sunwon shippers: you're in for a treat, lots and lots of jealousy, jaywon shippers: you get crumbs if you squint, a lot of rambly writing which is intentional because i'm trying to emulate jungwon and reader's internal monologue (which tends to jump between several different things, my mcs lowkey have adhd), jungwon is soo down bad you guys, ot7, bts mentioned cuz hot girls stan bangtan (jungwon is a hot girl)
w.c: 7.7k words
risa's thoughts:i'm really proud of this one, it's my first full length fic and it was soo much fun to write yay! as always, i would love to hear your thoughts, feel free to comment or message me :)) hope you enjoy!
masterlist
“Sometimes, just sometimes, I want someone. You know?”
It’s 2.23 am on a Saturday night. The window is open and the not-so-thin draft blows the curtains in every direction. The sitcom playing is terrible and your shared ice cream tub is half-empty despite buying it only today. Jungwon is sprawled on his couch with you beside him. Your feet are tucked under his thigh because you run cold and Jungwon runs warm and this is just a thing that happens, it doesn’t mean anything—
“Like I know it makes me sound kind of desperate, but it would be nice to have someone who’s always around. Who’s, y’know, there.” You continue.
“There.” Jungwon hums. He’s quiet for a second, and then suddenly he’s shuffling to face you.
“Okay, hear me out.” And that glint in his eyes makes you let out an exasperated chuckle.
“Jungwon, no. Whatever you’re gonna say, just no—”
“Just listen to me. If we’re both single at 25—“
You’re laughing before he even finishes. “Oh my god.”
“—we date. Each other. In case that was not clear.”
“You’re insane.” You’re just laughing in his face.
“No, c’mon. It’s practical!”
“It's insane!”
"it's a safety net!" he says it so seriously, like he’s giving a presentation for a class in university. "you want someone who's there. I'm there. I'm literally always there, it’s kind of a problem how much I’m there—“
“I have to live with the decision I make right now, don’t I?”
“So, that’s a yes then?”
You look at him for a moment and he just blinks back. “You do realise how absurd you sound, right?” You’re smiling and he’s mirroring your lopsided grin. He thinks you look really pretty with the wind blowing your hair everywhere and the lamp casting a faint glow in your chocolate eyes. “You’ve done stupider shit, though.” He’s not wrong.
“Ugh. Fine.” You roll your eyes. “if we're both tragically single at 25, we date.”
“Great.” He nods. Decisive and done, like he just signed a business contract. He’s grabbing your hand, “It’s a pact.”
“This is not a pact—” You’re laughing again.
“We literally shook on it—”“Jungwon, you grabbed my hand—“
Jungwon has stopped listening. His head is already resting on the back of the couch and he’s staring at the ceiling. He can’t help the smile that’s threatening to stretch into a full-blown toothy grin. He’s 22. 3 years. He can do 3 years. 3 years is nothing. He’s already been pining for 3 years, just means he’s halfway there, what’s 3 more?
~
Jungwon swears he’s a good guy. He really is. Atleast, everyone around him seems to think so. He’s been called an angel more times than he can count. By every other person he has met. All except you. Can you blame him though? You’re cute when you’re irritated and Jungwon has the time of his life riling you up.
But he thinks you would agree to some degree, if your very drunken and half conscious stupor is anything to go by. Jungwon had blushed 5 shades of crimson that night, with you on his back, pulling and squishing his cheeks and rambling, 'you're like the cutest human ever, you know that, *hiccup*, like you're a samoyed, no wait actually you're a cat, *hiccup* but like a floofy cat, with the big tail, do you think your tail would wag?’
He whined when you called him cute despite the pink in his ears. 'wha- what no, im a man, im NOT a cat, im manly, my shoulders are atleast 50cm, im a manly man *voice crack* got it?’ (he screams when he sees spiders by the way, almost jumps into your arms at the sight of them).
Regardless, everything about him being a big soft ball of positive energy right about flew out the window of Jay's car that Jungwon is forcing Jay to drive him around in, at a pace that could definitely get Jay pulled over. But, who cares? Jungwon is speed. He is as fast as light. He is lightening mcqueen.
Ummm… in hindsight he should probably stop yelling at Jay to speed up because if they end up getting a ticket…. Money? Haha. Ha. Ha. What is that?
But these are pressing matters! You are on a date.
A dATe.
He repeats, please copy, A DATE!!
Firstly, how?
Secondly, lol, poor guy.
Thirdly, NOOOOOO!
If it's hard to guess, the third point is the most important.
You see, under normal circumstances, he wouldn't be making a big deal out of this. He would be chilling in your apartment with cold pizza and diet coke and a rerun of some shitty movie. His feet would absolutely be up on YOUR coffee table because you hate it and has he mentioned that you're cute when you're annoyed? (your cheeks are all flushed and you have a pout and you huff a little and look like you need a kiss on your cheek from him, specificaLLY. If anyone asks, he never EVER said any of this, liars). And he'd be least concerned about your date because then the most important point would be ‘lol, poor guy’.
However, these are not usual circumstances. This is the third date.
The THIRD date. With the same loser (his friend).
How?
Quite seriously, how?
Either the guy is just losing a screw (he is, lol, Jungwon knows his friend).
Or you’re getting free food out of this.
At least, that's what he had hoped.
But then, you came out of your room in your black halter neck and miniskirt. You have worn that halter neck a grand total of one (1) times. Just once. Where, one may ask? To a BTS fansign. That is your lucky favorite super cute top. You met bangtan wearing it, are you kidding?
And Yoongi said it looked cute on you. THE min yoongi (the love of your life *dreamy sigh*)
Jungwon has to admit Yoongi is very very correct.
And he understands the hype behind it too. He has his own lucky favorite super cute item (Namjoon complimented his watch! and also almost wore it!!) AFBF.
Anyway, back to the present. Jungwon can spot the black uber in front of him and jay is tailing from two cars behind. They are under cover. Jungwon is following the eagle, do you copy?
And following.
Still following.
Two cars is too much distance, Jungwon can't see shit. This is why Jungwon carried binoculars.
And now, Jungwon is peering through tiny binoculars. (They're from his cousin's play detective set! They're really cute and have a lanyard that you can slip around your neck!! You'd love them, he's sure).
(It's a story for another time that Jungwon snatched them from his crying cousin, but to be fair, that kid needs to learn to share. It is also a second, other, story that the strap is too small to fit around Jungwon's neck and that he almost choked and Jay and Sunoo had to get it off. Yes, it took two people to accomplish the task.).
Basically, he's spying. So far, nothing interesting. You guys are just talking.
More talk.
And some more.
God, people yap too much.
Okay, he sees movement. Stop. Mr Nishimura RiKI STOP. Jungwon can see Riki's hand. Rising. As Riki pretend-yawns. And now Riki is leaning over the back of your seat.
Drop it.
Drop the hand this instant.
Drop it or Jungwon will THROW HANDS.
Honestly, Jungwon wonders what you see in Riki. Who pulls a move like that? in 2026?
Like everyone appreciates vintage, but this is just lame. Now, one places the hand on the ~thigh~. Actually, don't do that, arm behind is better. Jungwon wants to do the thigh thing so Riki better keep his hands oFF.
For those wondering, Jungwon is not deranged. This is NOT an overreaction. He has been completely sane over the course of the first 2 dates. CompleTELY.
Date 1, Jungwon barely acknowledged at all.
You’re going out with who?
Riki.
His friend, Riki?
Bahaahaha.
Jungwon burst out laughing, had tears in his eyes. As if. Riki could never beat him. The greatest joke of the year actually. He got a hefty laugh out of it. For a full week post you telling him, at random times of the day, he was falling out of his chair, hysterically laughing.
Ahh, good times.
But then, you and Jungwon were lounging around on his couch, per usual. He was being annoying, per usual. With his face in your lap, per usual (not usual at all, Jungwon was rED.)
He was tossing fries up in your face and stinking up your coffee table with his nasty sock clad feet, having an ESPECIALLY hard time trying to stay put and not lean over and bite your squishy soft and tempting cheek right there. And you mentioned a second date, planned for the very next day. Jungwon paused and stared at you for a full 15 seconds.
‘Huh? Was Riki actually charming?’ He blinked.
Bahahaha.
Jungwon thinks his brain is funny when it wants to be. Yeah no, you’re doing this for free food for sure. He had laughed straight in your face as you huffed some more and shoved him off your lap and on the floor with your feet; where Jungwon kept laughing.
“You’re such a menace." But you couldn’t help but smile as Jungwon kept losing his shit.
“Good luck with the date!’ He had said finally, mid obnoxious laugh. And your hangout had proceeded as always.
It did feel weird though. None of your dates progressed to a second date, like ever. Now that he thinks about it, you did not go on many dates at all. Weird.
But as one can confirm (can one?), he was completely normal about it.
You were out on the second date and Jungwon swears he was just bored. It really wasn’t deeper than that (bullshit, if you ask Sunoo). Just pure boredom (sure, Jungwon, sure, Sunoo’s not judging at all). That made him text you.
Spam text you.
With the stupidest shit.
Strategically.
Every 4 minutes.
(You can verify timestamps for anyone interested).
Jungwon: how’s the food?
Jungwon: didn’t you eat before you left, what are you even gonna do lol
Jungwon: actually, i looked it up on naver and that place has a 3.8 which is basically a 2
Jungwon: i think they might not have food for you at all, all their menu items look like they have your allergens in the dishes
‘you should just come back, i will not take care of you when you fall sick again’ (He did not send that one, someone (Jake) pointed out that Jungwon sounded desperate.)
You had not replied to a single message. (Jungwon has to say, you’re a bad texter in general, but this was annoying him more than usual.) It was only a whole 3 hours later that Jungwon’s phone ding-ed.
You: the food was great actually :)
Do we see why this is concerNING?
Do we see why Jungwon is having heart palPITATIONS?
Do we see why Jungwon gathered all 5 of his remaining friends in an attempt to recruit them to sabotage your future dates the minute you walked out in the halter neck?
And do we agree that this is NOT an overreaction!!!!
Jungwon wonders when his friends will be useful. The one time Jungwon needs their unbridled support and all these stupid good-for-nothing idiots can do is be practical? Now is not the time to be logical, where is the crazy?
Heeseung had looked at him for a very long time. "So let me get this straight." He said slowly. "You want us to sabotage her dates."
"Yes."
"Because?" Heeseung quirks his eyebrow.
"Because."
"Jungwon."
"Hyung."
Another long look. Heeseung chuckled, picked up his phone and started scrolling. Court dismissed, apparently.
Jay, his sweet, beloved, favorite and very treacherous hyung had tilted his head and said "Have you considered just. telling her?" and Jungwon had looked at him like he'd suggested something genuinely offensive.
"That's not on the table."
"Why not—"
"NEXT."
Jake at least had the decency to hear him out fully before saying absolutely not and then asking if anyone wanted ramen. Heeseung did want ramen, thank you for asking Jake!
Sunghoon just said "isn't Riki the one taking her out" and the room went very quiet and Jungwon muttered, "Thank you hyung, for picking at that very fresh wound, you can leave" and Sunghoon did not leave, he just sat there being unhelpful and annoyingly pretty, borderline smug, about it. What is he so smug about? It’s not like he’s got the girl????
And then there's Sunoo. Sunoo, who Jungwon had counted on. Sunoo, who is supposed to be his person. Sunoo, his fellow pocketz. Sunoo, who had listened to the entire thing with his chin in his hands and then said: "She wore the halter neck?"
"Yes—"
"The BTS one??"
"Sunoo hyung, focus—"
"Jungwon she looks SO cute in that top, like she actually looks ethereal—"
"I KNOW." Jungwon says. Pained. "That's literally why we're HERE."
A pause.
"...okay I'll drive." Jay sighed.
"I'll come." Sunoo raised his hand immediately.
"No no no, you’ve lost your field privileges. You were way too enthusiastic calling her cute—"
"But that’s cause she is!" Wow, Sunoo can’t even be honest anymore. Jealous much?
Jungwon points at him, eyes narrowed. "You’re in timeout until you're on my side."
Sunoo considers this very seriously for a moment.
"Okay but she did look really—"
"SUNOO HYU—"
"—really lucky to have someone like you pining after her." He finishes innocently.
Jungwon stares at him. Sunoo beams.
"...okay you can come."
Heeseung doesn't look up from his phone or his ramen. "You're all going to embarrass yourselves."
They absolutely are.
Which is how Jungwon finds himself in the car with Jay outside the damned date spot. Sunoo is in the backseat trying and failing to snatch the binoculars from Jungwon. How is he supposed to help if he can’t even see what’s happening, dammit?
Who even thought of this? Why are you picnic -ing on the banks of the Han river? Why is Riki being romantic? Why can’t Riki also be as useless as his hyungs?
And then, Jungwon sees it. Riki’s pulling the move again. He’s yawning again, (If he was this sleepy, why even go on the date? this fucking dumbass). His arm is most certainly going around your shoulder, he’s pulling you closer, you’re laughing at something he’s saying, he’s leaning in.
Wait. What?
He’s leaning INNNNN????!!!
Jungwon needs to do something. Anything. Right now. NOW.
Sunoo has the binoculars now because Jungwon's hands need to be free.
“Oh my god, they might kiss.” Jay is also gasping. This is scandalous.
Jungwon is panicKING. And suddenly, Jungwon is calling you. He doesn't remember deciding to do this. It's ringing. What is he going to say—
“Jungwon?” Your voice sounds surprised. Beside Jungwon, Sunoo takes a breath. “Okay, yes. No kiss.” Jay cheers.
“Your mom called me.” Jungwon says after a beat.
“My mom…. called you?”
“Yeah. She.. She uh. Needs you home.”
“My mom called you. Instead of me. To tell me to come home?”
“Yeah.” Jungwon is confident. Jungwon is the moment. He should try improv, he thinks he might actually make it big. “It seemed urgent—”
“Jungwon, my mom lives in Busan.” A beat. “ I have an apartment in Seoul, …which you frequent.” You deadpan.
Jungwon should stay as far from as improv as physically possible. “....She called from Busan."
Sunoo has lowered the binoculars. Him and Jay are staring at him like he’s spit hot coffee in their faces. They look murderous. All while both of them frantically mouth something to him. It seems like ‘what are you DOING?’ Or is it ‘what is wrong WITH YOU?’
Jungwon wished he knew what he was doing. Or what was wrong with him.
"I'm hanging up now." you say. You sound like you're smiling. He can't tell if that's good or bad.
"Okay, no, wait—"
Click.
The ride home is silent. Jay and Sunoo seem to know not to bring it up. And Jungwon feels like his mind won’t quiet down. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful for the silence or if he wishes they would spit out what they wanted to say. Sunoo only squeezes Jungwon’s shoulder once when they drop him off and Jungwon hates that his friends know how much it affected him.
His apartment is quiet. He just toes off his shoes and plops onto the couch. His couch, not yours. Which seems weird to clarify because he's on your couch so often now he sometimes forgets which is which. His feet are on the coffee table, but you’re not around to hate it. And so he pulls them down. His eyes land on the throw resting on the armrest, the throw you left once when watching a movie and one that you use every time you hang out here. Then they drift to the mug on the table, the mug that has ‘Won’s won(e) and only’ painted on it that you hide away in his cabinet so only you can drink from it. You have that habit, to make yourself comfortable around him. Jungwon loves it. But for some reason he can’t seem to look at either right now.
All he can think about is that you seemed to be having fun. This wasn’t like your previous dates that he would brush off as nothing. Cause those used to be nothing and you’d talk about them like they were nothing. And Jungwon never had to pay much mind. This one didn’t seem like nothing, though. You seemed to be laughing the way you laugh with Jungwon. With your head thrown back, full with your chest and with your eyes crinkling into beautiful crescents. Not the free food kind. Just genuinely happy and carefree. The one that you had reserved for Jungwon. Or so he had thought.
Riki was making you happy. Possibly, happier than when you were around Jungwon. Maybe Riki wasn’t such a loser at all. Maybe Jungwon was.
He doesn’t text you that night. He just stares at your contact on his phone and wonders what you could be doing right now? If you were with Riki? And for the first time in a while, he doesn’t text you at all. He's not sure you'd notice anyway.
~
You came home smiling.
The halter neck was an excellent idea. One that Riki suggested and takes full credit for. He told you approximately six times over the course of the evening that you looked good. Which means nothing because Riki is your friend and also a professional liar when the situation calls for it. You only know it was a good choice because it bothered Jungwon enough to want to stalk your date with Riki.
Riki had noticed the little stakeout the minute you sat down on the picnic blanket.
“Okay, I need you to trust me. Don’t panic. Just go with whatever I’m gonna do.” He had winked at you. And you knew.
And then the phone rang. You kept it on speaker because Riki insisted he was doing enough to be compensated with entertainment at the very least. You had laughed so hard at Jungwon’s mom-excuse that Riki had to physically hold you down to calm you and not blow your cover.
You’re still smiling about it now, as you change into comfortable clothes. You cannot wait to check your phone to see what absurd spam text Jungwon has left for you.
You swear you’re not evil. It’s just unfair that Jungwon can have his share of fun teasing you and you cannot. You are simply… seizing an opportunity. You are being resourceful. You are a girl with a plan.
The plan started with a hunch. An inkling, if you will, that maybe, just maybe, your crush might be reciprocated. And that hunch was the pact.
(A pact that you said yes to before he even finished the sentence which is a completely normal thing to do. You were tired. It was 2am. Your decision making was a little compromised. It’s very understandable, right?)
Who are you, if not a girl of science? A little brainiac, a scientist in the making. And a scientist needs her own little (failing?) experiment. This is yours. Your (questionable) social experiment, of sorts.
Test Subject: Yang Jungwon.
The hypothesis: Can one, scientifically, reduce the wait time for date impact from 3 years to (optimistically) a couple months? How much of a push does the test subject, Yang Jungwon, need to push him over the edge?
So, it is in the holy name of science, that you wore that halter neck.
And it is in the name of science that you may or may not have asked (bribed with food) your wonderful friend, Riki, to run interference.
And it is definitely in the name of science that you almost agreed to pretend-kiss Riki and gauge Jungwon’s reaction.
Science.
Anyway, the point is Jungwon is definitely going to leave you approximately forty seven increasingly hilarious texts and you're just checking your phone a lot because you're expecting them. That's all. (You've been conditioned by Yang Jungwon's unhinged texting habits to expect a notification every four minutes and your brain has simply adapted to this. Pavlov's dog situation. Very normal.)
Only… it’s been twenty minutes.
Thirty.
Oh my god, Forty. Did he die?
But he’s active in the group chat. This is weird.
Okay so he's not texting. That's fine. People don't text sometimes. Jungwon is a person. Sometimes people who text you every four minutes just. don't. That's a thing that happens. You're not going to be weird about it.
You are being so weird about it. You feel like you’re going to pull your hair out. You’ve been staring at your ceiling for about an hour now. There is a pit in your stomach. You pick up your phone one more time.
Yang Jungwon. Active 12 minutes ago.
You put it down. You're not sure when you stopped smiling.
~
Jungwon messages only during lunch the next day. It’s not out of the ordinary, just some meme you would normally find funny. But it doesn’t land well with you. A part of you still feels heavy. So you confirm if he’s still gonna show up to your place that night. And he says yes. Again, very ordinary, but you can’t help but feel like something is off.
Evening comes around sooner that you expect. And you find yourself cooking some Buldak Ramen (Jungwon argues in favour of Shin Ramen, but who is he to deny your puppy eyes), while Jungwon pretends to assist you. His assistance comes in the form of sitting on the counter beside you while he scrolls on his phone and periodically shares reels he finds funny. And for a while everything looks like it’s going back to its rhythm. He’s poking fun at you (both figuratively and literally poking you with his feet), you’re dodging his attacks, laughter fills your tiny kitchen and all seems right with the world.
But your mind is more observant than you would like sometimes. It seems to be running in overdrive, second-guessing every pause, every clipped reply and you conclude that everything is, in fact, not right with the world. Jungwon is definitely talking in shorter sentences. And he seems to not look at you as much anymore. He’s breathing differently too.
But there’s nothing to bring up. What do you even say? Jungwon, why are you breathing weird? So now you’re not only a creep but also possibly imagining things.
So you ignore it, push it down and pretend like you don’t notice at all. You keep chattering as you usually do. And try to switch off your brain.
And it just slips out.
“Riki is taking me out again. It’s technically our fourth date.” You chuckle and then it hits you. You swear you did not do this one on purpose. Riki just genuinely mentioned craving Italian and you wanted to try this restaurant. It wasn’t even a DATE date. It was a platonic date. A regular hangout. Inconsequential.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jungwon’s finger pause on his phone screen. And then it continues.
“Oh, nice!” He doesn’t look up, just acknowledges it and continues onto the next topic.
Oh, nice.
Oh nice??
That's it. That's all you get. Two words and a subject change like you told him you bought new socks.
You stir the ramen.
Oh nice.
You plate the ramen.
Oh. Nice.
You eat the ramen. Is ramen always this bland?
Dinner passes like that, with you forcing your brain to pause and think through what you say all while psychoanalyzing every word, every pause and every breath Jungwon takes while also replaying his ‘Oh, nice’ with different intonations to figure out which is the one he meant.
On the surface, everything is normal enough. Jungwon eats with you, helps you clean up dishes, and wipes down your counters for you. Everything he usually does. All the normal conversations. But then as you’re migrating to the couch to play whatever stupid sitcom you were watching the last time, Jungwon stops near the couch.
“I forgot to mention. I have a thing, I’ll get going.”
This never happens. Jungwon always has things. He always has things AND he stays anyway because the thing is never more important than your couch and your terrible sitcom and your company and he knows that and you know that.
You don’t know how to respond. Your mouth opens. And shuts. Opens again.
But before you can conjure up a response. He’s leaning down to give you a quick hug. He kisses your temple, shoots a quick ‘see you later’ over his shoulder and he’s walking to the door. You watch him put his shoes on like you're watching it happen to someone else.
“Hey. Is everything okay?” You ask quietly.
“Ofcourse. Why wouldn’t it be?” He's already out the door, shooting you a quick grin.
The door clicks shut.
Oh nice.
It comes back to you, sitting alone on your couch.
Oh nice.
You feel the lump in your throat travel down and lodge itself into your heart.
How nice.
~
You’re curled up on your couch with your blanket.
Jungwon is sprawled on his couch in his sweatshirt.
You're watching the sitcom.
Jungwon is watching the sitcom.
Same episode. You've both seen it three times.
Neither of you is watching the sitcom.
You’ve been staring at a corner of the TV screen for a while now. You've made a decision. The plan is off. It was a stupid plan anyway. A scientist with no control over her variables. No control over herself, if you're being honest. And you need some control right now.
You pick up your phone.
You: hey. the plan is off. I think i screwed this up.
Three dots appear immediately. Riki was already on his phone.
Riki: lol no it's not
You: riki I'm serious
Riki takes a little longer.
Riki: are you okay? you seem sad.
You: I’m not feeling the dinner thing tmrw.
Riki: okay, no. you can cancel your plan but don’t bail on me wthh.
Riki: we’re hanging out tomorrow, no excuses. i’m gonna cheer you up. just us, no agenda.
Riki: wear something nice though, that place is fancy and i’m not giving up italian cause you show up looking crusty
You stare at the screen.
You: i do not look crusty.
Riki: are you sure about that?
A pause.
You look at your half finished ramen.
You look at the sitcom.
You look at the empty couch cushion to your left.
You: fine. you better make me laugh.
Riki: girl please.
Jungwon does not know why his TV is on, he hasn’t paid attention even for a second.
He has made a decision.
He just needs to be a little more careful. A little more measured. He can do that. He's been doing it for years already, what's a little more distance? He just needs to not be around you so much. Stop showing up every other night. Stop texting every four minutes. He doesn’t think his cracked heart can handle too much pressure before it breaks completely.
It's a good plan. A solid plan. He's fine. He can be chill. He can keep his distance. He wants to cry.
His phone buzzes.
Sunoo: 7:30 tomorrow. that italian place on hongdae. dress well.
Jungwon: ?????
Sunoo: I'm doing you a favour just show up
Jungwon: what favour. what does that mean. hyung.
Sunoo: 7:30 :)
Jungwon stares at his phone.
Sunoo is already not responding.
He looks back at the sitcom.
Looks at his phone again.
He wants to say no. He wants to stay in. He wants to wallow in self-pity.
Jungwon: fine.
He puts his phone down before picking it up again.
Jungwon: what do you mean dress well
Sunoo leaves him on read.
(Somewhere, Sunoo and Riki are sharing a high-five.)
~
The restaurant is bathed in warm yellow light and smells like garlic and butter. Jungwon is mental-mathing if he has time to yeet himself out of here and run back home but Sunoo spots him before he can bolt.
“Glad you didn’t ditch.” Sunoo joins him as they walk over to confirm their reservation desk.
“I was half way out the door actually—” Jungwon stops mid sentence when he looks up. Right there, in front of him, in line, is the one person he’s been dreading seeing. You look breathtaking in your black dress, sparkly earrings and the wispy hair framing your face. The slit on your thigh does not go unnoticed by Jungwon who gulps down the drool that’s threatening to drop from his open mouth.
Then comes the panic. He’s about to grab Sunoo and take a sharp 180 degree turn when Riki decides to look over his shoulder.
Great. Perfect timing. It seems life really hates him, huh?
“Oh woah, didn’t expect to see you guys here!”
You turn back to see who Riki is greeting. And you think you forget how to breathe for a second. Jungwon looks like a prince in his navy silk button down. His sleeves are rolled up and his shirt is tucked into his slacks accentuating his proportions criminally well. You have to grab onto Riki’s forearm to not collapse then and there. (Jungwon’s gaze could laser slice Riki’s arm off any second now.)
If only either of you had the ability to not ogle each other for 5 seconds, you would spot the not so subtle wink Riki gives Sunoo.
“Oh my god. Hi, you guys! What are the chances? We’re on a date! As I suspect you guys are too!” Zero hesitation. Sunoo is as bright as ever. Jungwon is choking on aIR. No, like he’s actually wheezing all while looking at Sunoo like he has grown three heads.
Yeah there’s no way you’re gonna buy this, is what Sunoo thinks to himself. You look a little lost glancing between the two men apprehensively. And Jungwon is dying way too much to even remotely be able to sell this.
So Sunoo does what any best friend who’s committed to the bit does. His arm circles around Jungwon’s bicep, nails almost digging in and yanks him to his side so they’re now attached at the hip and then proceeds to give his sweetest smile to you (and Riki).
Jungwon stops wheezing for only 10 secs. Because now he’s attempting to control his gag reflex. Riki has less of a filter and gags in plain sight. (Thankfully, you’re too shocked to notice. Yeah, you need to work on your situational awareness.) Sunoo has to give Jungwon the nastiest side eye for him to straighten up and mutter, “Sorry, yeah, a date. Got something in my throat there.” He coughs out.
You are so confused right now because when and how did this progression even happen?
Beside you, Riki coughs into his hand. “Hey, crazy idea…how about a double date?” Now it’s your turn to gape at Riki’s face. Riki does not so much as spare you a glance.
“Omg yes, that’s so cute!” Sunoo is agreeing immediately. It seems that Jungwon and your opinion is inconsequential. And unsolicited. (As it should be, ask literally anyone.)
Before either of you can object, the hostess is clarifying if all four of you are together and on Riki’s confirmation guiding you all to a table. Riki slips in beside you and Sunoo all but pushes Jungwon in so he’s sitting right in front of you.
Jungwon is going to kill Sunoo in the near future.
The table is small.
Criminally, infuriatingly small.
You are directly across from each other and there is a candle that smells like jasmine between you and nowhere to look that isn't each other.
You refuse to look at anything but the menu.
He refuses to look at anything but the menu.
And, Riki and Sunoo are already talking like this is the most normal evening of their lives.
You both want to strangle your respective dates. Traitors.
The waiter is already at your table, the perk of fancy restaurants, you guess. Riki orders for himself. Jungwon opens his mouth and is about to make a comment about the truffle pasta that he knows you love, specifically to ask if it contains nuts. You’re allergic.
“Does the—”
Riki cuts him off. “Do you want me to ask if the truffle pasta has nuts?” He’s looking at you, his eyes are soft and Jungwon is going to combust.
You blink up at him. "Yeah, thanks."
Riki orders for you when he confirms the pasta does not, in fact, have any nuts.
Jungwon shuts his mouth, clenches his jaw and orders the pesto one without looking at anyone. Sunoo orders the same thing as Jungwon. Nobody asked him to. He just does it. Solidarity. Jungwon is grateful.
The food takes twenty minutes. Twenty minutes feels like forever when you’re trying to avoid someone’s eyes across an unreasonably small candlelit table.
Sunoo, bless his heart, has been yapping away to fill the silence.
“Can I just say,” he turns to Jungwon suddenly, his hand rising to lay on Jungwon’s arm, “you look so handsome today.” Sunoo is turning to face you and Riki, hand not leaving Jungwon’s shoulder, and a smug smile on his face, “Don’t his shoulders look incredible in this shirt?” He’s gesturing, like one would showcase a museum exhibit. “So broad.”
Your eye twitches. Jungwon wishes the ground would swallow him whole.
Riki glances at you, just for a second with one eyebrow barely raised. You squint at Sunoo's hand on Jungwon's arm one more time, then at Riki and then at your own hands.
Game on. Your move.
"Riki, show me that thing on your phone you were telling me about earlier." You lean in before he can even reach for his phone, closing the distance between you and resting your chin almost on his shoulder, cheek almost touching his neck to peer at his screen, that us not even open yet, by the way. Riki, to his credit, recovers fast. "Oh yeah… uh yeah, s-sure."
Across the table, Jungwon’s knife falls on his plate and he scrambles to pick it up. You don't look up at all, but he sees the tiny smirk on your face.
So we’re playing dirty now?
That’s fine. Two can play the game.
Jungwon holds it in for a full five minutes, pretends your little stunt didn’t bother him one bit. In fact, he continues the conversation like nothing is amiss. And when Sunoo starts to comment on something, Jungwon turns to him a little more than necessary, and agonizingly slowly, reaches over and fixes Sunoo’s collar. A collar that looked pristine, needed no fixing at all. (If anything, Jungwon’s actually made it messy.) He doesn’t stop there though. His hand continues to rise. Sunoo is not sure what’s happening and is looking at Jungwon with wide eyes. And then Jungwon’s thumb is swiping the corner of Sunoo’s lips. “You had a little something there.”
Sunoo could throw up. Riki feels a shudder crawl down his spine. Jungwon looks way too confident, way too hot and way too unbothered. And you feel a scowl set onto your face. Sunoo thinks a hole is going to burn through his skull with the way you’re glaring.
This is war.
You know he’s doing it on purpose.
He knows you’re doing it on purpose.
Oh, it’s on.
You take one deep breath, and then you pivot, “This place is amazing, Riki. You have great taste!” Your palm smacks down on Riki’s thigh who yelps. Then you find Jungwon’s eyes, hold his gaze, before continuing, “Definitely better than cold pizza and diet coke.”
Jungwon scoffs. “Oh yeah, better than Buldak Ramen too, actually.”
Neither of you has broken eye contact. A moment passes. The table is quiet.
Then Jungwon says it like it's a completely separate thought. Casual. Like he just remembered.
“Sunoo is such a good texter, replies almost immediately.” He does not care that anyone and their mother can point out that that was the most ridiculous conversation starter ever. He just wants to edge you further. And Sunoo is wondering how purple the bruises on his shoulder is going to be when Jungwon lets go.
“Riki doesn't send thirty texts in four minutes either.” You're looking at him with narrowed eyes.
“Oh, so I shouldn’t check in with you. Got it.” Jungwon puts down his drink.
“I don’t really check my phone when I’m having a good time. You know, like a civilized person.”
“Oh really? Seems like you aren’t having a good time tonight then considering Riki’s phone is so interesting.”
“Don’t you worry, I absolutely am. Are you?”
“The best.”
“Great.”
“Great!”
Riki and Sunoo have been craning their necks like they’re watching a particularly brutal ping pong match. They look at each other. ‘Do something.’ Sunoo mouths to Riki.
"Sooo, what have you been watching recently?" It's laughable that that’s the only thing Riki could come up with but he genuinely feels like he's next to a ticking time bomb.
"Oh, Jungwon and I watch a lot of sitcoms these days." Sunoo says, in hopes to help diffuse whatever electric tension is buzzing between the two of you.
Wrong move. You go very still.
"Oh, so that's the 'thing' you have?" You glare. "At least, you show up for him."
Jungwon goes quiet.
In three years, he has never not shown up. Not once. He has shown up with cold pizza and diet coke and his feet on your coffee table. He has shown up with his stupid reels and his 2am spam texts. He has shown up when you were running low on caffeine and motivation during finals. He has shown up when you were celebrating a perfect score or an internship offer. He has shown up when you were crying about a boss’s rude comment. And he has always, always been there.
He wanted to be there.
He just couldn't be once. Not like this. Not when being there was slowly breaking something in him he didn't know how to fix.
He wanted to be happy for you.
He is trying so hard to be happy for you.
This is what he gets for wishing you happiness?
Jungwon stares at the table, pulls in a slow breath. “Wow, you really know how to hurt me.”
And you know you’ve stooped too low. You want to take it back.
Sunoo looks at Riki and they seem to agree that this is beyond saving.
Riki coughs, "I have a call to make."
Sunoo nods. "Yeah, I'll help you dial."
They’re both scrambling out of their seats before you can blink.
You’re both silent. Jungwon hasn’t looked up at you. You don’t know how to fix this.
“Jungwon, I’m sorry—”
“Save it.” Before you can process what’s happening, he’s standing up and walking away from the table.
You spot Riki and Sunoo not far away and hurriedly wave them over, who, thank the heavens, for once in their lives get the memo and rush over. You don’t wait, just rush out behind Jungwon.
You catch up to him out on the terrace extending from the restaurant. He’s walking to the railing, “Jungwon, wait. Please. I really crossed the line right now. I did not mean for—”
“No.” He stops you, turns around and his face looks so pained, it knocks the breath out of your lungs. He looks like he might break down any moment and your heart feels like it’ll shatter.
“Do you even know why I pulled away?”
You don’t answer. You don’t think you can.
“Because I couldn’t keep pretending around you.” He takes in a breath. “You know better than anyone I've never — not once — wanted to be apart from you. Not for a day. Not even for an afternoon.” He laughs, but it sounds so different from his laugh. “I don’t spam text people. I take 2 business days to reply to everyone else, including my sister sometimes. I hate people laying cold feet on me. I love nuts in my truffle pasta and I hate that sitcom we watch. For fucks sake, I’m not even looking at the TV most of the time. I’m looking at you.” He runs a hand down his face.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence that I'm always just. there? That I always show up? That I know you take two eggs in your ramen and that you hate anyone touching the blanket you’ve left at my place and that you laugh at your own jokes before the punchline—”.
He stops.
Breathes.
“I pulled away because I’m in love with you.” He looks at you. You can see the moisture in his eyes. The light from within the restaurant reflects in his eyes and your breath catches. “I have been for an embarrassingly long amount of time. And it never bothered me when you went on dates cause they never got further than the first one. But then I saw you with Riki. And it killed me to see you laugh like that and look like that—” He’s gesturing to you and he’s laughing again, his eyes shine some more now. “I just needed to protect whatever was left of me.”
He can’t look at you. He stares at the floor. It’s silent. There’s sounds of crickets from the potted plants on the railing and clinks of cutlery from within the restaurant.
There goes the friendship as well, he thinks.
His eyes are blurry now. He doesn’t think he has the courage to look at you anymore. He sees your heels come into view. You’re walking to him. He has half a mind to shut his eyes and push you away.
Jungwon looks wrecked. The closer you walk to him, the more your heart breaks. His lashes are wet, his fists are clenched by his side. And then before you can overthink it, you’re in front of him and your hands are cupping his face.
Jungwon shuts his eyes. Your thumbs brush away the tears on his cheeks.
“Jungwon. Look at me.”
“If you’re gonna walk away, just do it now.”
“Look at me.”
Jungwon looks at you slowly. There’s tears in your eyes. The city lights from beyond the terrace reflect on your face. You look so beautiful. Wow, he’s going to miss you.
“I don’t like Riki.”
“That’s nice to know. But really? That’s your response to everything I said?”
You laugh through your tears. “Jungwon, I never liked Riki. I’ve only ever liked you.”
“What?”
“I’m in love with you too, you idiot.” Your voice cracks. ”I have been for a really long time. And I panicked. Because you suggested the pact and I said yes before I processed any of it and I didn't know what to do with that so I just—” You breathe in. “I wanted you to do something now, I can’t wait three years, are you kidding me?”
“So what you’re saying is you were trying to get a rise out of me?” It comes out slow. Like things are clicking into place.
“Yes.”
"You wore the halter neck on purpose."
"I wore the halter neck on purpose."
He stares at you.
"Riki knew?"
"Riki knew."
“And he tried to kiss you.”
You wince.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Jungwon—”
“After.” And he’s pulling you into his arms. “After.”
He holds you for a long moment. You can hear his heart, you can smell his cologne and you can feel his breath in the crook of your neck and it’s the best feeling in the world. Jungwon’s nose is in your neck and you smell divine, his hands are around your waist and he feels like he could pass out like this. Neither of you move.
"So." His voice is muffled in your hair. "The halter neck."
"The halter neck."
"You wore it on purpose."
"We've established this."
"To a date. With my friend."
"Jungwon—"
"Riki." He pulls back just enough to look at your face. "You used Riki."
"You followed me with children's binoculars and roped Jay into stalking me."
He opens his mouth. Closes it.
"That's fair."
You laugh, the full one, the one reserved for him. He smiles. And then he's cupping your face the way you cupped his and he's looking at you like he's got three years worth of looking to catch up on. Your breath hitches. His thumb is brushing your jaw. He pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and inches closer. You can’t breathe. You’re too scared to move. Your eyes simply travel from his lips to his eyes (which are trained on your lips) back to his lips. And then he’s kissing you.
It’s soft. Slow. Like neither of you is in any hurry anymore. Like you have all the time in the world now. Because you do.
When he pulls back he doesn't go far, just rests his forehead against yours. “Just so you know”, his breath mingles with yours, your lips are barely a centimeter apart, “I’m not letting you go.”
“You better not.” And now you’re kissing him. More confident. Your lips dance with his, hands travel to his neck. He tilts your head and kisses you deeper. And you don’t think you’ll ever want to stop.
Three years for forever? Totally worth it.
~
Somewhere inside the restaurant, Riki and Sunoo are pressed against the window like two kids outside a candy shop.
in which jay gives you lessons on how to get (and fuck) jake sim.
synopsis: when your crush on jake sim turns into full-blown panic about your complete lack of experience, your best friend suggests the one person on campus who can help: jay park — the dangerously attractive, notoriously skilled senior with a reputation for being an incredible teacher.
what starts as innocent lessons in flirting, kissing, and confidence quickly spirals into something much hotter… and much more complicated. because the more jay teaches you how to drive jake crazy, the more you realize you only want him touching you.
pairing: jay x fem!reader (x jake)
wc: 34.6k
warnings: smut! light fluff and angst
cw: college au, love triangle, mutual pining, slow burn. themes of virginity, virginity loss, sexual inexperience, anxiety about intimacy. mentions of alcohol. explicit sexual content (kissing, making out, dry humping, handjob, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex.) heavy flirting and sexual tension, playful teasing, use of petnames, strong language.
a/n: even though today is my birthday, i wanted to be the one giving you a gift. so... yeah, here you go, the longest fic i've ever written. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did while writing! <3
the bass hums low through the crowded living room, a warm pulse that vibrates under your skin as you lean against the kitchen counter, half-hidden behind a cluster of red plastic cups.
the party is the usual saturday chaos — too many people crammed into this frat house off campus, bodies swaying and bumping into each other under the dim string lights someone messily hung on the ceiling. laughter spills over the music, loud, while the faint smell of cheap beer, cheap vodka, and even cheaper perfume hangs thick in the air, mixing with the occasional scent of cigarette smoke drifting in from the backyard. red cups litter every surface, and the floor already feels sticky under your sneakers from whatever got spilled earlier.
but your eyes stay fixed across the room, unable to look anywhere else, like some invisible string keeps pulling your gaze back no matter how much you tell yourself to stop.
jake sim stands near the sliding glass doors that lead to the backyard, where the night air probably feels cooler and less suffocating than in here.
one hand is casually tucked into the pocket of his dark jeans, the fabric hugging his legs just right, while the other gestures animatedly as he talks to a girl you vaguely recognize from your literature class — maybe her name is karina or something close. she’s laughing at something he said, head tilted back in that carefree way, exposing the line of her throat, her fingers brushing his arm every few seconds like she can’t help touching him. the way she leans into his space screams interest, flirtiness, and he doesn’t pull away. if anything, he seems to welcome it, that charm radiating off him.
and jake — good god, jake looks perfect. the kind of perfect that makes your chest ache with a sharp, longing twist.
he’s wearing a simple black button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, exposing those toned forearms that flex subtly every time he moves his hand for emphasis. his hair falls softly over his forehead in that effortless, slightly tousled way, like he ran his fingers through it once and left it alone, knowing it would look devastating. the dim lighting catches on the sharp line of his jaw, the warm brown of his eyes, and when he smiles at her, it’s the same warm, dimpled smile he’s given you a dozen times in the hallway or during group project meetings. the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through clouds, crinkling the corners of his eyes and making his whole face light up.
he leans in closer to hear her better over the music, nodding along with genuine interest, his full attention on her like she’s the only person in this entire crowded house.
that’s the thing about jake. when he focuses on someone, it feels like the rest of the world fades into background noise — no distractions, no half-measures. just him, fully present, making you feel seen in a way that’s dangerously addictive.
you swallow hard, fingers tightening around your barely-touched drink until the plastic creaks under your grip. the soda has gone warm and gass-less, but you don’t care. you haven’t taken more than a sip in the last twenty minutes anyway, too busy nursing this quiet ache while pretending to scroll on your phone every few seconds so no one notices you staring.
you’ve been crushing on him for four months now.
four long, torturous months of stolen glances across lecture halls, light flirting in the library where his knee would accidentally brush yours under the table, and random texts about class notes that somehow turned into conversations about favorite movies and late-night snacks and that one time he admitted he secretly loves cheesy romance dramas even though his friends would tease him endlessly for it.
and, the thing is, everybody knows jake doesn’t flirt casually. if he gives a girl that kind of attention — the lingering eye contact, the playful teasing texts at midnight, the way he remembers small details like how you take your coffee — it means he’s interested in something real. dating, commitment, the whole boyfriend package with hand-holding walks across campus and good morning messages that make your heart race.
he’s had two serious girlfriends in the past three years, one lasting several months where you’d see them together looking so effortlessly in sync, the other stretching a whole year where rumors said they were practically inseparable until things eventually ended on good terms. each one looking blissfully happy in his presence, glowing like they’d unlocked some secret level of connection and pleasure that you can only imagine.
and that’s exactly why your stomach twists into tight, anxious knots right now.
you’re a virgin. painfully, embarrassingly inexperienced.
you’ve kissed a couple guys before, sure — awkward fumbling in the dark during high school parties, all sloppy lips and unsure hands that never quite knew where to go or how to make it feel good. but nothing more. no one has ever touched you the way you know jake has touched his exes. you’ve overheard enough whispered conversations in the girls’ bathroom or seen the way those exes still look at him sometimes with fond, satisfied smiles.
jake is the type who probably knows exactly what he’s doing — patient, attentive, skilled in ways that leave girls breathless and glowing, satisfied down to their bones. the kind of guy who takes his time, learns what makes someone moan and shiver, who makes sex feel like an art form instead of a clumsy rush. and the thought of him finding out how clueless you are makes your cheeks burn even in the middle of this loud, overheated party, a flush creeping up your neck that has nothing to do with the alcohol you’re barely drinking.
what if you freeze up when things finally get intimate? what if your hands shake too much to touch him the right way, or you don’t know how to kiss him properly with that slow, deep confidence he probably expects? what if you can’t make him feel good, can’t match the energy of his past girlfriends who clearly knew how to please him back? what if he realizes you’re not on the same level — not experienced, not sexy, not adventurous enough — and the interest in his eyes dims? the flirting would stop. the texts would fade. he’d move on to someone who doesn’t need to google basic techniques in secret or lie awake at night worrying about being a disappointment in bed.
you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to taste the faint metallic taste, forcing your gaze away just as the girl leans up to whisper something in jake’s ear. her lips brush close, too close, and he laughs softly — that low, charming sound carrying across the room like a sweet melody cut through the bass. it’s warm and genuine, the kind that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach even from this distance.
you turn toward the counter instead, pretending to refill your cup from the half-empty punch bowl, the liquid sloshing messily as your hand trembles slightly. the ice cubes clink loudly in your cup, a small distraction from the way your heart pounds against your ribs.
around you, the party pulses on without pause. someone bumps your shoulder accidentally, muttering a quick sorry before disappearing back into the crowd. a group of girls nearby bursts into giggles over some inside joke, their voices high and tipsy. the music shifts to a slower track, something with heavy bass and breathy vocals that only makes the atmosphere feel more charged, more intimate despite the chaos. you glance back once more, unable to resist, and catch jake’s eyes flicking in your direction for the briefest second. does he see you? does that dimpled smile flicker with recognition? your breath catches, but then he’s turning back to the girl, saying something that makes her touch his arm again, and the moment slips away like smoke.
you set the cup down untouched, wiping your damp palms on the sides of your jeans. the insecurity sits heavy in your chest, a constant whisper reminding you that jake sim deserves someone who can keep up. someone confident. someone who knows how to flirt without second-guessing every word, how to touch without hesitation, how to make a guy like him lose control in the best ways.
and right now, that someone feels impossibly far from who you are — standing here in the corner, heart racing over nothing more than a smile across a crowded room.
the party swirls around you, alive and indifferent, but your mind stays trapped in that loop of what-ifs and quiet longing, the bass still humming low like a reminder that time is moving forward whether you’re ready or not.
“you’re doing that thing again,” a familiar voice says beside you.
yunjin appears like magic, sliding an arm around your waist and resting her chin on your shoulder. her long hair tickles your neck, smelling like coconut shampoo and the strawberry lip gloss she always wears. she’s been your best friend since freshman orientation — loud where you’re quiet, confident where you overthink everything.
“what thing?” you mumble, even though you already know.
“the ‘staring at jake like he hung the moon but also might destroy my entire soul’ thing.” she steals a sip from your cup and grimaces. “ugh, you’re drinking the watered-down shit again. come on, let’s get you something stronger.”
you let her drag you toward the other end of the kitchen, but your mind stays stuck on jake. even through the hazy, crowded warmth of the party, your eyes keep drifting back to where he’s laughing with some guys from the club soccer team. yunjin notices, of course. she always does, her grip tightening on your arm in a silent show of support while she pours something sweet and dangerously strong into a fresh red cup for you.
later that night, after the party finally winds down and the bass stops rattling your teeth, you’re both back in your shared off-campus apartment. the contrast is jarring, the heavy silence of the night settling over everything. the real conversation happens when the rest of the world is asleep. you’re sprawled on your bed in oversized pajamas, hair still slightly damp and curling from a quick shower, while yunjin sits cross-legged on the floor painting her nails a deep, glossy burgundy. the lamp on your nightstand casts a soft, amber glow across the room, and the distant city hums faintly outside the window.
“okay, spill,” she says without looking up, carefully dragging the tiny brush over her thumbnail. “you’ve been weird about jake for weeks. what’s the hold-up? he literally flirted with you for twenty minutes last tuesday in the café. he doesn’t do that unless he’s serious. he was giving you that puppy-dog look the whole time.”
you pull your knees tightly to your chest, hugging them until your knuckles turn white. the weight of the secret has been crushing you for days, and the words finally tumble out before you can stop them.
“i’m scared, yunjin. really scared.”
she glances up instantly, the brush hovering inches above her index finger. the playful tease drops from her face. “scared of what? jake’s a sweetheart. he’s not some asshole who’s going to play games with you.”
“it’s not him. it’s… me.” your voice drops to a pathetic whisper, your cheeks instantly heating up with a fierce, burning blush. you bury your chin in your knees. “i’m a virgin. completely. i’ve barely even done anything beyond clumsy high school kissing. and jake’s had actual girlfriends. serious ones. he knows what he’s doing, yunjin. what if i’m bad at it? what if i disappoint him? he’ll realize i’m not… enough. not experienced enough. not sexy enough. not whatever his exes were.”
yunjin sets the nail polish bottle down on a stray magazine slowly, giving you her full, undivided attention. her expression softens, the fierce protectiveness she always has for you melting into something tender, though there’s still a sharp spark of determination in her eyes.
“babe… first of all, that’s so normal. lots of people are virgins in college, even if they don't advertise it. second, if jake likes you — and he clearly does — he’s not going to expect you to be some kind of porn star on day one. he'd probably think it was sweet, honestly.” she pauses, watching your miserable expression. “but i get it. you want to feel confident. you don't want to be overthinking every single touch when you're finally alone with him. you want to blow his mind when it happens.”
you nod miserably, burying your face completely in your knees for a second, your voice muffled. “i just want to feel like I know what I'm doing. just a little bit.”
yunjin taps her freshly painted fingers on the carpet, her mind visibly whirring. then she smiles — that mischievous, slightly dangerous, scheming smile you know all too well. it’s the smile that usually precedes a terrible, brilliant idea.
“if you really want to impress him… there’s someone who can help.”
you peek at her over the tops of your knees, skeptical. “what do you mean? like a book? a podcast?”
“sunghoon’s friend. jay. jay park.” she says it like the name should mean something immediately, dropping it into the quiet room like a bombshell. “he’s discreet as hell. experienced — like, really experienced. girls talk about him in hushed tones in the sorority houses, trust me. apparently he’s an incredible teacher. no strings attached, just pure skill-building. he’s actually done this before for a couple of people who were in your exact shoes. helps them get confident, learn what they need to know. everything from flirting, body language, touching, all the way down to… you know.”
your eyes widen to the size of saucers. “you’re joking. you want me to ask a random guy to tutor me in sex?”
“dead serious. he’s not a fuckboy in the messy, heartbroken-trail way. more like… selective. efficient.” yunjin leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her tone shifting into something more serious. “and look, here's the thing. jay is known for fucking the girls he hangs out with, yeah. he has that reputation for a reason. but… you don't have to do that. he's not some caveman. jay is actually the best one on this entire campus to go to for advice, even if you never lay a finger on him.”
she waves a hand to emphasize her point, careful not to smudge her polish. “he might make an exception for you. you can literally just have the option of not sleeping with him. you can just go to him, tell him the situation, and let him give you advice. he knows how guys think, he knows what jake’s vibe is since they run in similar circles, and he can literally just talk you through it. teach you how to read the room, how to touch without being awkward. but if you do decide you want hands-on practice? he's the guy. if you approach him the right way and you’re honest, he’ll probably say yes to whatever level you’re comfortable with. he’s good at keeping secrets too. sunghoon swears he's the most trustworthy guy he knows.”
you stare at her, your heart hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. jay. you’ve seen him around campus, of course. everyone has. he’s impossible to miss — tall, with that sharp jawline, dark hair usually styled flawlessly, always dressed like he just stepped out of a high-end fashion magazine. he has this quiet, heavy confidence mixed with a sharp, teasing look that makes people nervous to look him in the eye for too long. the mere idea of walking up to him and asking him for… lessons felt completely insane. humiliating. but beneath the embarrassment, a tiny, buried part of you felt a thrill that was absolutely terrifying.
“i couldn’t,” you whisper, your voice shaking slightly. “yunjin, that’s crazy. 'hey jay, can you teach me how to be good in bed so i can go sleep with your acquaintance?' he’ll laugh in my face.”
“is it crazier than stressing yourself sick over whether you’ll be good enough for jake? you're practically giving yourself an ulcer over a guy who hasn't even kissed you yet.” yunjin raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “look, you deserve to feel prepared. empowered. jay’s the guy for that, whether he's just talking to you over a drink or showing you what to do. no emotions, no drama, just practice and advice. think about it. just promise me you'll think about it.”
the conversation lingers long after yunjin finally packs up her nail polish and leaves your room, kissing your forehead goodnight and telling you to text her if you need to spiral more. you lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, the name jay repeating in your head like a dare.
you lie there in the dark, the harsh blue glow of your phone illuminating your face in the otherwise pitch-black room. your thumb hovers precariously over the message bar, trembling slightly.
you had found jay’s contact info through a mutual friend's group chat earlier that night, your heart racing so fast you could hear it in your ears the entire time you were saving his number. now, at exactly 2:17 a.m., the sheer absurdity of the hour matches the sheer absurdity of what you're about to do. you type a sentence, delete it. type another, delete that too. you rewrite the message five times, your palms sweating against the glass screen, before you finally force your thumb to stay still and craft something that sounds at least semi-coherent.
you: hi… this is awkward but um. yunjin mentioned you might be able to help with some… lessons? about confidence and stuff. with guys. i’m really new to all of it and there’s this guy i like and i don’t want to mess it up. if you’re not interested that’s totally fine, sorry for bothering you this late.
you hit send.
the instant the little outgoing chime sounds, a wave of pure, instant regret crashes over you. you toss the phone away like it’s physically burning you, letting it land somewhere in the tangled blankets at the foot of your bed. you cover your face with both hands, groaning softly into the quiet room. this is ridiculous. it's humiliating. who even asks for something like this? jay park is going to think you're an absolute freak, or worse, he's going to screenshot it and show sunghoon.
a minute passes. then two. the silence in your room feels heavy, suffocating. you're just about to reach down and turn the phone completely off to save yourself further agony when the mattress vibrates.
buzz.
your heart leaps into your throat. you scramble through the covers, fishing for the device and unlocking it with shaking fingers.
jay: well this is a new way to get my attention. lessons, huh? for a specific guy? bold.
before you can even process the dry, teasing tone of his text, another message bubbles up right underneath it.
jay: meet me tomorrow at the café near the east library. 4pm. we can talk details. don’t overthink it too much, newbie.
your stomach flips hard, dropping into a dizzying freefall. he said yes. kind of. it’s incredibly teasing, dripping with the exact kind of effortless confidence that usually intimidates you, but it’s still a yes. he didn't laugh you off. he didn't tell you to lose his number.
you roll onto your back, dropping the phone onto your chest and staring up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above you. the shadows from the blades cut rhythmic patterns across the ceiling, but they do nothing to soothe your mind, which is currently racing at a thousand miles an hour.
what the hell are you actually doing?
asking jay park — the campus mystery, the guy who walks through hallways like he owns them, the one with that intense, piercing stare that makes people look away first — to teach you how to flirt, how to touch, how to… god, how to do everything. and you're doing it all just so you can feel like you're enough for jake sim. the contrast between the two boys couldn't be wider: jake, with his warm, sweet, golden-retriever energy and easy smiles, and jay, who feels like a sharp knife, dark leather jackets, and expensive cologne.
but underneath the suffocating layers of panic and embarrassment, a tiny, unfamiliar spark begins to take hold. it’s a spark of excitement. of real hope. yunjin was right; you've been putting yourself through misery over your lack of experience. maybe this is exactly what you need to break out of your own head. maybe jay really can turn you into someone confident, someone desirable — someone who won’t freeze up or panic when jake finally makes a real move.
you pull the heavy blanket higher up over your shoulders, curling onto your side as your phone screen finally times out and dims, plunging the room back into total darkness.
tomorrow at 4 p.m. there's no backing out now. you're really doing this.
and as exhaustion finally starts to get to you, a nervous, slightly hysterical laugh escapes your lips into the quiet apartment.
what have you gotten yourself into?
-------
the next afternoon, 4:00 p.m. arrives far too quickly.
the café near the east library is tucked away in a quieter corner of the campus, mostly populated by grad students typing furiously on laptops and the heavy smell of roasted coffee beans. you change your outfit three times before leaving the apartment, finally settling on something casual but not too casual, your hands sweating the entire walk over.
when you push the glass door open, the little bell chiming above you feels like a death threat. you look around the dimly lit space, and there he is.
jay is sitting at a small corner table near the back window, looking entirely too calm and entirely too hot for a thursday afternoon. he’s wearing a simple black sweater, the sleeves pushed up to reveal his forearms, and his dark hair is perfectly styled, just like always. he has a half-empty iced americano in front of him, his thumb casually scrolling through his phone. there’s a quiet, effortless aura of arrogance around him, but as he catches movement and looks up, his sharp features soften into a playful, lazy smirk.
“you’re exactly on time,” he says, his voice a low, smooth rumble that instantly makes your stomach do a flip. he slides the empty chair opposite him out with his foot. “sit. you look like you’re about to faint.”
you sink into the chair, gripping your tote bag tightly against your chest like a shield. “hi. thank you for coming.”
“relax, newbie. i don’t bite,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. he studies your burning, red face for a second before a soft chuckle escapes him. “you know, you could have just told me the whole story in the text. saved yourself some typing.”
you blink, confused. “what do you mean?”
jay leans forward, resting his elbows on the table, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a dangerous amount of amusement. “yunjin told sunghoon. sunghoon told me. so, i already know the full context.” his smirk widens, making him look devastatingly handsome. “so you want to learn how to fuck properly for jake sim? bold.”
your entire face explodes in a fierce, blinding heat. you literally feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and for a terrifying, very long second, you consider hiding under the table or running away as fast as you can. you bury your face in your hands, your voice muffled and laced with pure mortification. “oh my god. i am going to kill yunjin. i am actually going to murder her.”
jay lets out a genuine, low laugh at your reaction, the sound rich and surprisingly warm. “don’t kill her yet. she’s just looking out for you. and honestly? it’s refreshing. most girls try a lot harder to play it cool around me.”
you slowly drop your hands, your cheeks still burning a bright pink. “i don't even know what i'm doing here. this is insane.”
“it’s only insane if you make it insane,” jay says calmly, his playful tone softening just a fraction into something a bit more business-like. he pushes a clean napkin and a pen toward you, though he keeps his eyes on your face. “let’s treat this like an introduction. an assessment. before we can fix anything, i need to know what we’re working with. list all the things you think you’re bad at. everything you're worried about. so i know what to focus on.”
you stare at the blank napkin, swallowing hard. the vulnerability of it feels immense, but you’re already here, and you’re already completely humiliated. you take a deep breath and start listing them off, your voice dropping to a quiet whisper so the barista won’t hear.
“flirting,” you start, counting on your fingers instead of writing it down. “i freeze up. and… kissing. i’ve only ever done clumsy high school kissing, nothing serious. touching… like, knowing where to put my hands without being awkward. sex, obviously, since i’ve never done it. and… just confidence in general. i overthink everything until i ruin the mood.”
jay listens quietly, his sharp eyes tracking the movement of your fingers. he doesn't laugh, and he doesn't tease you this time. he just nods slowly, absorbing the information.
“okay. that’s a solid list,” he says. then, his gaze drops to how tightly you’re still clutching your bag, your knuckles white, your shoulders tense and pulled high. his eyes lift back to yours, perceptive and sharp. “you’re terrified i’m going to try to jump you, aren’t you?”
your breath hitches. you open your mouth to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. you are skeptical about getting physical with him. the idea of practicing on jay park feels like playing with fire, and you’re fully aware you might get burned.
jay sighs softly, leaning back again, his posture completely relaxed to contrast your tension. “look at me.”
you look up, meeting his intense stare.
“yunjin told you i have a reputation, and she’s right. i’m not going to sit here and pretend i’m a saint,” jay says, his tone completely direct, peer-to-peer, without a shred of judgment. “but i don’t do anything without absolute consent. i can see you’re stressed out of your mind right now. so, let’s take the pressure off. we are not getting physical. the ‘lessons’ will be entirely theoretical. just talking, advice, breaking down how guys think, and giving you the blueprint. unless you explicitly ask to change that later down the line, we keep our hands to ourselves. deal?”
the relief that washes over you is so sudden and heavy that your shoulders visibly drop. “deal. thank you. seriously.”
“don’t thank me yet, newbie. you’re still going to have to work on that confidence,” jay says, that familiar, teasing grin creeping back onto his face. he stands up, grabbing his iced coffee and sliding his phone into his pocket. “we’re done for today. meet me at my dorm tomorrow afternoon. third floor of the west quad, room 314. we’ll start the actual work then.”
he gives you one last, lingering look — a mix of amusement and something else you can’t quite read — before turning and walking out of the café, leaving you alone at the table with a racing heart and the sudden realization that you’re actually going through with this.
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself standing outside room 314 in the west quad, your heart doing gymnastics against your ribs. you take three deep, stabilizing breaths before finally raising a shaking hand to knock.
the door swings open almost immediately, and jay stands there looking effortlessly put-together in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. his hair is slightly messy today, falling over his forehead, which somehow makes him look even more intimidatingly handsome.
“you’re on time again. i like that,” he says, stepping back to let you in.
his dorm is surprisingly clean and smells faintly of sandalwood and expensive laundry detergent. there’s a vinyl player in the corner, a desk stacked with textbooks, and a neatly made bed. jay walks over to his desk chair, spins it around to face the bed, and motions for you to sit on the mattress.
“alright, newbie. welcome to lesson one,” jay says, his tone shifting into something surprisingly focused. he sits down, crossing his legs and resting his elbows on his knees. “today is all about the fundamentals. eye contact, body language, and light teasing. if you can't master the tension before you even touch a guy, everything else falls flat. so, we start here.”
you nod, swallowing hard, trying to look like a good student. “okay. what do i do?”
“first thing: eye contact,” jay says, leaning forward slightly. his dark eyes lock onto yours, intense and unblinking. “when you’re talking to jake, you have a habit of looking down at your shoes or glancing away every three seconds. it makes you look like you’re guilty of a crime. i want you to hold my gaze. don’t look away until i do.”
you brace yourself and look straight into his eyes. one second passes. then two. the sheer intensity of his stare feels like a physical weight in the room. by second four, your heart is pounding, your throat feels dry, and your eyes instinctively dart toward the window.
jay lets out a soft, amused scoff. “four seconds. tragic. again.”
you lock eyes with him again, biting the inside of your cheek. this time, you manage to hold it, but you can feel your face flushing a bright, furious pink.
jay watches the blush spread across your cheeks, a slow, lazy half-smile spreading across his face. he’s clearly enjoying how easily he can fluster you, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “you’re cute when you’re panicking, you know that? but you need to relax your shoulders. you look like a statue.”
“it’s hard,” you complain, your voice a little high. “you’re staring at me like a hawk.”
“jake is going to stare at you too, newbie. you need to get used to it,” jay teases, leaning back in his chair with a playful grin. “alright, let’s move on to flirting and light teasing. pretend i’m jake. we’re at a party, i just walked up to you, and i say, ‘hey, i like your outfit.’ how do you respond?”
you clear your throat, trying to channel every romantic comedy you’ve ever watched. you try to mimic the slow, confident smirk jay always uses, but your lips twitch awkwardly.
“oh, this old thing?” you say, your voice dripping with a completely unnatural, overly dramatic theatricality. you even throw in a bizarre little hair flip that feels entirely forced. “thanks. i guess you don’t look too bad yourself.”
the room goes completely silent.
jay just stares at you for three long seconds, his expression an unbelievable mix of utter disbelief and pure, unadulterated amusement. then, he buries his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him.
“oh my god,” jay groans, looking up at you with tears of laughter in his eyes. “that was… easily the worst thing i have ever heard in my entire life.”
“hey!” you yell, grabbing a stray pillow from his bed and throwing it at his chest. your face is practically purple with embarrassment. “i told you i was bad at this!”
jay catches the pillow effortlessly, still laughing. “bad? newbie, that wasn’t just bad. that was completely goofy. you sounded like a cartoon villain trying to seduce a detective. and what was that hair flip? did you have a muscle spasm?”
“stop laughing at me!” you hide your face in your hands, completely mortified. “this was a mistake. i’m leaving.”
“no, stay, sit down,” jay says, his laughter finally dying down into a wide, bright grin. he tosses the pillow back onto the bed and leans in closer, his voice dropping into a softer, playful murmur. “i'm sorry, i shouldn't laugh. it was honestly kind of endearing. but we definitely have our work cut out for us.”
you peek through your fingers at him, pouty and defensive. “fine. how am i supposed to say it, mr. expert?”
jay shifts in his chair, his entire demeanor changing in a split second. the laughter vanishes, replaced by a smooth, magnetic confidence that makes your breath hitch. he looks at you, his eyes dropping to your lips for a microsecond before rising back to your eyes. a small, knowing grin plays at the corner of his mouth.
“if i say ‘i like your outfit,’ you don’t act like a theater kid,” jay says softly, his voice a low, teasing purr that makes goosebumps break out on your arms. “you look him right in the eye, hold it for a second, smile just a little bit, and say… ‘thanks. i wore it hoping you’d notice.’”
you stare at him, your mouth slightly open, completely paralyzed by how smoothly he delivered the line. the air in the dorm suddenly feels incredibly thick, the playful atmosphere from a second ago completely evaporating into something heavy and charged.
jay holds your gaze for a beat longer, making sure the lesson lands, before breaking the tension with a quiet chuckle. he taps his fingers against his knee, leaning back in his chair. “see the difference? subtle. playful. now, let’s try it again. and this time, keep your hair exactly where it is.”
you swallow the lump in your throat, trying desperately to shake off the weird shiver that just ran down your spine. he’s just demonstrating, you remind yourself. he does this for fun.
“okay,” you mutter, pulling your knees up to your chest on his bed and trying to center yourself. “subtle. no theater-kid energy. got it.”
“alright. take two,” jay says, his expression shifting back into that smooth, predatory calm. he locks his eyes onto yours. “hey. i like your outfit.”
you force yourself not to look away. you look at his dark eyes, then let your gaze drop slightly to his lips — just like he did — before looking back up. you attempt a small, knowing smile, though your heart is hammering against your ribs.
“thanks,” you say, your voice a little softer than usual, a little more genuine. “i wore it hoping you’d notice.”
jay doesn't laugh this time. he stays perfectly still, his eyes tracking the slight tremor in your bottom lip. for a second, his grin falters, replaced by a sharp, intense curiosity that makes your stomach do a violent flip. then, the lazy crooked smile creeps back onto his face, and he nods approvingly.
“better,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. “way better. see? you don’t need to put on a performance. guys like jake — and guys like me — we can tell when a girl is trying too hard. authenticity is hotter than any script you could write. you just have to let yourself feel the tension instead of running away from it.”
the rest of the hour goes by in a blur of intense eye contact and brutal, playful critiques. jay puts you through a dozen different scenarios. he teaches you how to respond to a compliment without deflecting it, how to use a quiet pause in conversation to your advantage, and how a simple change in posture can make you look completely magnetic.
he doesn't miss a single chance to tease you, though. every time you stumble over your words or give a goofy response, he boops your nose with his pen or groans dramatically into his hands. but by the time the alarm on his phone buzzes to signal the end of the hour, you realize something shocking: you aren’t so uncomfortable anymore. you’re actually laughing with him.
“alright, session one complete,” jay says, standing up and stretching his arms over his head, pulling his hoodie up just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his toned stomach. you quickly look away, your face heating up again. he catches you, of course, and just smirks. “homework for tonight: practice looking people in the eye. the cashier at the dining hall, your professors, yunjin. don’t look down.”
“fine, professor park,” you roll your eyes, sliding off his bed and grabbing your bag. “thanks. for not totally giving up on me.”
“i don't give up on my projects, newbie,” he says, walking you to the door. he opens it, leaning against the frame and looking down at you with a soft, surprisingly warm expression. “see you in two days. don't overthink it.”
“i'll try,” you murmur, giving him a small wave before turning and walking down the hallway.
the walk back to your apartment is a long one, and the cool evening air does nothing to calm the frantic state of your brain. you wrap your cardigan tighter around yourself, your sneakers clicking rhythmically against the pavement as you re-read every single moment of the last hour in your head.
your mind is a chaotic mess of conflicting thoughts.
first of all, jay was right. the theoretical approach did help. just understanding the mechanics of how to hold a gaze and how to drop your voice made you feel like a secret weapon was being built inside you. you find yourself imagining using those exact tricks on jake next tuesday at the café. you imagine looking jake in the eye, holding his gaze, and saying something subtle and confident. the thought makes your stomach flutter with a nervous, happy anticipation. it’s exactly what you wanted.
but as you cross the street near the campus green, another thought creeps in, unbidden and entirely unwelcome.
jay.
you pull a breath into your lungs, a strange, tight feeling in your chest. you had gone into that room completely terrified of him, expecting a cold, arrogant guy who would judge your total lack of experience. instead, he had been… patient. incredibly observant. and so frustratingly attractive that it felt like a safety hazard.
when he had delivered that line — i wore it hoping you’d notice — the look in his eyes hadn't felt like a lesson at all. it had felt entirely too real. the way his voice had dropped, the way he had effortlessly controlled the energy in the room… it was terrifying how easily he could manipulate your feelings with just a shift in his posture.
he’s a professional, you remind yourself sternly, walking up the steps to your apartment building. he has a reputation for a reason. he’s doing this to help you with jake. do not confuse the lines.
yet, as you unlock your front door and hear yunjin yelling something from the kitchen, you can’t shake the memory of jay’s lazy, knowing smirk from your mind. you had spent weeks stressing yourself sick over jake sim, but as you step into your apartment, you realize with a sudden wave of panic that learning how to play the game with jay park might be a hundred times more dangerous.
-------
two days later, you find yourself back outside room 314. you don't even need to take three deep breaths this time — only two.
when jay opens the door, he’s wearing a faded vintage band tee and dark jeans, looking like he just rolled out of bed but somehow still managed to look effortlessly attractive. he takes one look at your face, steps back to let you in, and closes the door with a quiet click.
“welcome back, newbie,” he says, a lazy grin already spreading across his face. “did you do your homework? did you look the dining hall lady in the eye, or did you stare at your tater tots again?”
“i looked her straight in the eye,” you say proudly, tossing your tote bag onto his desk chair. “she looked confused, but i didn’t look down once.”
“proud of you,” jay chuckles, walking over to his mini-fridge to grab a bottle of water. he takes a sip before turning his full attention to you, his eyes sweeping over your outfit before locking onto yours. “alright, today is lesson two. we’re graduating from eye contact. today is all about compliments, voice tone, and what i like to call ‘innocent’ touching. leaning in, brushing an arm, breaking the physical barrier without making it a big deal. ready?”
you nod, though your stomach does a familiar little nervous flip. “ready.”
“good. sit on the bed,” jay commands smoothly, pulling his desk chair over so he’s sitting directly across from you again, only this time, he hitches the chair closer. his knees are barely a few inches from yours. the proximity alone makes the air feel instantly thick. “let’s start with compliments and tone. a lot of girls think giving a compliment means squealing and saying ‘oh my god your hair looks so good today!’ that’s friend-zone energy. jake doesn't need another cheerleader. he needs to know you see him as a man. understand?”
“yeah,” you murmur, swallowing hard.
“so, voice tone is everything. drop your volume. speak from your chest, not your throat. make him lean in to hear you,” jay instructs, his own voice dropping into that low, gravelly pitch that makes your ears tingle. “let’s try it. i walk up to you. i’m jake. i’m wearing a nice cologne. compliment me.”
you take a second to clear your throat, trying to channel your inner siren. you lean forward slightly, look him in the eye, and speak in what you think is a sultry whisper. “wow, jay. you smell really… nice. like a tree.”
jay blinks. the room is dead silent for three seconds.
then, he lets out a sharp, breathless laugh, burying his face in his hands. “like a tree? like a tree? oh my god, newbie, please tell me you’re joking.”
“it’s sandalwood!” you protest, your face instantly turning a furious shade of crimson as you grab his pillow again, though this time he anticipates it and firmly plants a hand on it before you can throw it. “you literally smell like sandalwood and cedar! that’s a tree!”
“you sound like a park ranger,” jay groans, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he pulls the pillow out of your hands. “and your voice went all breathy and weird at the end, like you were running out of oxygen. i said drop your pitch, not sound like you have asthma.”
“i told you i’m bad at this!” you whine, burying your burning face in your hands. “this is why i’m a virgin, jay. i have negative game.”
“hey, look at me,” jay says, his voice softening, though the vibrant amusement is still dancing in his dark eyes. he gently reaches out and taps your wrist until you drop your hands from your face. “it’s fine. that’s why you’re here. let’s try it again, but don’t think about the specific words. don’t describe the scent. just focus on how it makes you feel. and keep the voice steady. smooth. try it.”
you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. you wait a beat, letting the silence stretch just like he taught you in lesson one. then, keeping your voice low and stable, you say, “you smell really good today. it’s distracting.”
jay pauses. his smirk falters for a fraction of a second, his eyes darkening just a tiny bit as he processes the delivery. a slow, appreciative smile replaces his laughter. “there we go. that’s the tone. smooth, grounded, a little bit dangerous. jake would literally lose his mind if you said that to him.”
a rush of pride swells in your chest. you actually did it.
“alright, now let’s add the physical element,” jay says, leaning back slightly but keeping his eyes locked onto yours. “innocent touching is all about making it look accidental. it has to look accidental, but feel intentional. a brush of the shoulder when you laugh, a lingering touch on the arm when you’re emphasizing a point. it makes the moments stick, you know? let’s combine them. give me that same compliment, but this time, i want you to break the physical barrier.”
your heart restarts its frantic rhythm. touching him wasn’t part of the original plan, but this is entirely safe — just an arm, just a shoulder. theoretical practice in action.
“okay,” you whisper.
you look at him. you focus on your breathing, trying to get rid of the tension in your shoulders. you lean in slightly, your eyes dropping to his lips before rising back to his eyes. you reach your hand out, your fingers trembling just a fraction, and gently brush your fingertips against his forearm, letting them linger on the soft fabric of his sleeve.
“you smell really good today,” you say softly, your voice perfectly steady this time. “it’s distracting.”
you expect jay to pull back, or to laugh, or to give you another critique. instead, jay doesn't even flinch. he doesn't get nervous at all; if anything, the touch seems to ground him. his eyes track your hand on his arm, and then slowly, deliberately, he tilts his head, a devastatingly handsome, wicked grin pulling at his lips.
he doesn't break your touch. instead, he leans forward, bringing his face so close to yours that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek.
“is it?” jay murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, completely turning the tables on you. “if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie… you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.”
your breath hitches completely. your heart thumps so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. he’s completely unbothered, completely in control, flirting back with an effortless grace that leaves you completely breathless.
“you… you cheated,” you squeak out, frantically pulling your hand back and sitting straight up, your face hot enough to fry an egg. “you’re not supposed to flirt back! you’re supposed to be jake!”
jay lets out a low, rich chuckle, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, looking immensely pleased with himself. “jake is going to flirt back, newbie. if a girl touched him like that and gave him that compliment, he wouldn't just sit there like a log. he’s going to lean in. you need to learn how to handle the counter-attack.”
you pout, crossing your arms defensively. “you’re just showing off.”
“maybe a little,” he admits, his eyes crinkling with that playful, arrogant charm. “but you did great. seriously. the touch was perfect — light, lingering, just enough to make a guy notice. let’s try another one. this time, let’s practice the ‘laugh and lean.’ when i say something funny, you lean in, laugh naturally, and let your shoulder brush mine. let’s see if you can handle it without panicking.”
for the next hour, the room feels like a battlefield of tension and laughter. you practice over and over again. you try leaning in to whisper something “secretive” in his ear, your breath brushing against his neck, which makes jay’s jaw tighten for a brief second before he recovers with a smooth, teasing remark. you practice brushing a stray piece of lint off his shoulder, letting your fingers drag slowly down his chest.
every time you do it well, jay praises you, his voice warm and encouraging, but he never lets you get too comfortable. he always pushes back — catching your wrist gently, leaning into your space, or dropping a low, dangerous compliment right back to test your boundaries. he doesn't get flustered, but you notice that as the lesson goes on, his jokes get a little quieter, his smirks a little softer, and his dark eyes stay locked onto yours with an intensity that makes it harder and harder to remember that this is just a game.
“alright,” jay finally says, his voice a bit rough as he checks his phone. “that’s enough torturing you for one day.”
you sink back against his pillows, completely exhausted but tingling with a weird, electric energy. “i think i actually did okay today.”
“you did better than okay,” jay says, standing up and looking down at you. he reaches out, and for a second, you think he’s going to tease you again, but instead, he gently runs his thumb over the side of your cheek, a surprisingly tender gesture that makes your heart stop. “you’re a quick learner, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he pulls his hand back smoothly, leaving your skin tingling where his thumb had just been. he walks to the door, opening it with that signature, lazy smirk.
“go home, get some rest. next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics. try not to lose sleep over it.”
you scramble off the bed, grabbing your bag and practically running past him into the hallway, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm as his quiet laughter follows you down the corridor.
the next monday, you’re sitting in the back row of your lecture hall, pretending to take notes on a PowerPoint about microeconomics. in reality, you’ve just been drawing mindless spirals in the margin of your notebook, your brain completely occupied by the memory of jay’s thumb brushing against your cheek.
“next lesson, we’re talking about kissing mechanics.”
the memory of his low, rough voice echoes in your head, making you shiver despite the aggressive air conditioning in the auditorium.
suddenly, a sharp elbow digs into your ribs.
“you’re doing a new thing,” yunjin whispers loudly, leaning over the shared desk. she has her laptop open, but instead of notes, she has a blank word document filled with a massive, stylized question mark. “the ‘staring into the abyss like you’re trying to decode the matrix’ thing. spill. now.”
“shh,” you hiss, keeping your eyes glued to the professor. “we’re in the middle of class.”
“the professor is seventy-five and doesn’t have his hearing aids turned up, babe. talk,” yunjin demands, sliding her chair a microscopic inch closer to yours. her eyes narrow, her strawberry lip gloss catching the fluorescent lights as she tilts her head. “it’s been days. you’ve been acting weirdly quiet, you didn’t spiral once this weekend, and you’ve been practicing weirdly intense eye contact with the barista at the campus cafe. which means… the lessons started. how is jay park?”
your face immediately flares up, the heat rising rapidly from your neck to your cheeks. you grab your highlighter and aggressively color over a random definition on your paper. “it’s fine. it’s going fine.”
“‘it’s fine’ does not make a girl turn the color of a fire hydrant,” yunjin points out, a massive, predatory grin spreading across her face. she leans in so close her coconut-scented hair brushes your shoulder. “oh my god. did you guys do it? did he break his rule? did you break the no-fucking clause already? details, give me details!”
“no! oh my god, no!” you whisper-yell, frantically looking around to see if any of the athletes in the row ahead of you heard. luckily, they’re all asleep. you drop your voice to a desperate, tiny whisper. “we didn’t do anything. i told you, it’s completely theoretical. he promised.”
“okay, okay, keeping it professional. i respect it,” yunjin says, waving a dismissive hand, though her eyes are still dancing with intense curiosity. “so what exactly happens in a ‘theoretical’ sex lesson with jay park? does he use a whiteboard? powerpoint slides?”
“no,” you mumble, hiding the lower half of your face behind your hand. “he… we just sit in his dorm. he makes me practice scenarios. the first lesson was just eye contact and light teasing. he basically told me i have the flirting skills of a cartoon villain.”
yunjin bursts out into a short, choked laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her sleeve when the professor coughs. “i mean, he’s not wrong, babe. remember freshman year when you tried to wink at that guy on the club team and looked like you were having a neurological event?”
“i’m better now!” you defend yourself, your voice tight. “jay fixed it. well, he’s fixing it. we had lesson two a couple days ago.”
yunjin leans in even closer, her notebook completely forgotten. “and? what was lesson two?”
“compliments. voice tone. and… innocent touching,” you whisper, your chest tightening just thinking about it. “like, leaning in and brushing his arm. or laughing and letting our shoulders touch.”
yunjin’s jaw literally drops. she stares at you, her eyes wide. “wait. you touched jay park? the guy who usually looks like he’ll have you legally removed from his presence if you breathe his oxygen? how did he react? did he flinch?”
“no, that’s the thing,” you groan, burying your face in your notebook for a second before looking back at her miserably. “he didn't flinch at all. yunjin, he’s completely immune to me. when i gave him the compliment and touched his arm, i thought i did a really good job. i dropped my voice, i held his gaze, all of it. but then he just… he didn't even blink. he just leaned all the way into my face and flirted back. he said something like, ‘if you think my cologne is distracting, newbie, you’re never going to survive the rest of these lessons.’”
yunjin lets out a low, silent gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. “oh my god. newbie? he calls you newbie? that is so disgustingly hot, i think i’m going to throw up.”
“it’s not hot, it’s terrifying!” you whined, chewing on the cap of your pen. “he is so effortlessly in control of the room. every time i think i’m getting the hang of it, he just raises the stakes to test if i’ll panic. he spent the whole hour praising me when i did it right, but then he'd immediately counter-attack to show me how a guy would react. by the end of it, my heart was beating so hard i thought i was going to pass out.”
yunjin studies your face, her playful demeanor shifting into something a bit more analytical, a small, knowing grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “and what about jake? are you thinking about jake when you’re doing all this?”
the question catches you completely off guard. you pause, your pen hovering over the paper.
“i… yeah,” you say, though the answer feels a little delayed, a little less certain than it should be. “of course i am. the whole point of this is so i don’t ruin things with jake. i keep imagining using the tricks on him.”
“right. of course,” yunjin says softly, though the look she gives you is incredibly perceptive. she taps her chin. “so, what’s next on the syllabus, student of the year?”
you swallow hard, the bell suddenly ringing to signal the end of the lecture. you pack your laptop into your bag with slightly trembling hands, refusing to look yunjin in the eye as you mutter the final detail.
“kissing mechanics. we’re doing kissing next.”
yunjin pauses mid-stride as you both walk out into the crowded hallway, a massive, thrilled grin spreading across her face. “oh, babe. you are playing with actual fireworks. good luck surviving that one.”
-------
the next afternoon, you find yourself walking back up the stairs of the west quad. your nerves are completely fried, mostly because yunjin’s warning about "playing with fireworks" has been looping in your brain for the last twenty-four hours. kissing mechanics. the words alone make your pulse skyrocket.
when jay opens the door to room 314, he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and charcoal grey cargo pants. he looks you up and down, a faint, amused smile lingering on his lips. "come on in, newbie."
you step into the familiar, sandalwood-scented space and immediately drop your bag by his desk, hopping onto the edge of his bed. before he can even sit down in his usual chair, the words start spilling out of your mouth in an anxious rush.
"okay, so something happened," you blurts out, waving your hands around. "jake came up to me yesterday at the student union. he was wearing his soccer jersey and he literally leaned against my locker and told me my hair looked pretty."
jay pauses, capping his water bottle and looking at you with a raised eyebrow. "and? did you use the eye contact?"
"yes! i held his gaze for like, five whole seconds," you say proudly, leaning forward. "and then i tried to do the subtle, playful voice thing you taught me. i looked at his jersey and said, 'thanks, you don't look too bad yourself.' but jay, the second the words left my mouth, i panicked. i got so incredibly awkward. i think my shoulders went up to my ears, and i literally backed into the locker door so hard it made a loud clanging sound."
jay stares at you for a beat, and then he breaks. he covers his mouth with his hand, his shoulders shaking as a deep, breathless laugh escapes him. "you backed into a locker? newbie, please tell me you didn't."
"i did!" you groan, burying your face in his pillows. "it was terrible. but… the weird part is, it might not have ruined everything? he’s been texting me literally all day today. look."
you scramble to pull out your phone, unlocking it and flashing the screen at him. there’s a string of text messages from jake, filled with emojis and casual questions about your week.
jay steps closer, leaning down slightly to look at the screen. his eyes scan the notifications, and a low, thoughtful hum hums in his throat. he straightens back up, crossing his arms over his chest, his playful smirk turning into a highly analytical expression.
"okay, first of all, the text volume is good. he's definitely hooked," jay says, tilting his head. "but based on your little locker incident, i'm officially changing the syllabus for today."
you peek up from the pillow. "wait, what? aren't we doing kissing mechanics today?"
"absolutely not," jay says smoothly, a wicked, completely teasing grin spreading across his sharp features. "no offense, newbie, but if you're still crashing into structural steel because a guy complimented your hair, you are legally not ready for the kissing lesson. you'd probably faint on him."
"hey!" you protest, sitting straight up and kicking your legs out, though you can't help the blush spreading across your face. "i was just caught off guard!"
"exactly. which is why we need to build your confidence up through texts and pictures first," jay says, walking over to his closet and leaning his shoulder against the frame. "given how much he's texting you right now, it’s the perfect opportunity. so, lesson three: how to dress sexier, body language upkeep, and sending suggestive texts and photos."
your jaw drops. "photos? like… selfies?"
"relax, i don't mean nudes," jay scoffs playfully, rolling his eyes. "i mean the kind of photos that make a guy stare at his phone for ten minutes straight. subtle hints. showing off your collarbone, an arched back, a casual half-smile. the kind of stuff that says 'i'm not trying,' even though you absolutely are."
he walks over to your bag and picks it up, tossing it onto the bed next to you. "dump it out. let’s see what clothes you brought today, and then we're going to fix your text game."
for the next hour, jay takes his role entirely too seriously. he makes you stand up to practice your posture — forcing your shoulders down, teaching you how to subtly arch your back when you're sitting so your silhouette looks sharper, and showing you how to cross your legs to elongate your frame.
then comes the text interrogation. he sits right next to you on the bed, his shoulder pressing against yours, looking over your screen as you type.
"no, delete that exclamation point. it makes you sound too eager," jay commands, his thumb reaching over to tap your screen. "type this instead: 'busy right now, but i might have time for you later.' it creates mystery. it makes him want to compete for your attention."
"isn't that a little mean?" you ask, looking up at him.
"it's not mean, it's a hook," jay murmurs, his dark eyes fixed on yours from mere inches away. "trust me. watch how fast he replies."
you hit send. less than thirty seconds later, jake replies: 'what are you up to? let me know when you're free x'.
you stare at the screen in absolute shock. "oh my god. you're a wizard."
"i'm a guy. i know how our brains work," jay smirks, entirely pleased with himself. "now, let's seal the deal. we're sending a photo. stand up."
you get up, your heart doing a nervous dance as jay picks up your phone. he walks you over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of his door, positioning you just right where the warm afternoon light hits your face.
"your sweater is too high. pull it slightly off one shoulder," jay instructs, his voice dropping into that focused, professional tone.
you hesitantly tug the knit fabric down, exposing your collarbone. jay steps behind you, looking at your reflection in the mirror. he frowns slightly, stepping closer until his chest is almost pressed against your back. he reaches out, his warm, large hands gently gripping your waist to adjust your posture, tilting your hips just a fraction.
"don't look directly at the camera like a deer in headlights," jay murmurs near your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "look slightly down, tilt your chin up. think about something that makes you feel good."
your whole body feels like it's on fire from his touch. your reflection in the mirror shows your cheeks flushed a deep pink, your eyes dark and wide. jay raises your phone, snapping a few photos. he pulls away smoothly, scrolling through the gallery before handing the phone back to you.
you look at the screen and literally gasp. the photo doesn't even look like you. it looks incredibly soft, effortless, and undeniably sexy. your collarbone stands out, your lips are slightly parted, and the flush on your cheeks looks intentional.
"send him that one," jay says, leaning back against his desk and crossing his arms, watching your reaction with an intensely satisfied smirk. "and don't add a caption. just let him suffer."
you hit send, your hands shaking. almost instantly, the typing bubbles appear from jake's contact.
they bounce up and down, then disappear, then start up again. jake is clearly panicking on the other end, deleting and rewriting his response just like you had done nights ago.
jay steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to look down at the screen. his chest gently brushes your back, the warm, clean scent of his sandalwood cologne enveloping you completely. “look at that,” he murmurs, his voice a low, vibrating rumble right next to your ear. “he’s losing his mind. i told you.”
finally, the text comes through.
jake: oh wow. you look really pretty. where are you?
you automatically start typing a reply, your fingers flying across the keyboard. i’m just hanging out at a friend’s dorm.
“stop, stop, stop,” jay says, his hand suddenly coming down over yours to physically halt your thumbs. his palms are warm and broad, completely wrapping around your hands. a jolt of electricity zaps straight up your arms. he doesn't pull away immediately; instead, he slowly guides your hands down, forcing you to lower the phone. “what did i say about theater-kid energy? you’re giving away too much information, newbie. you’re killing the mystery.”
“but he asked where i am!” you protest, looking up at him over your shoulder. your faces are incredibly close, so close you can count the dark lashes framing his piercing eyes.
jay just smiles, that slow, devastatingly confident grin that makes him look entirely too in control. he reaches out and smoothly takes the phone right out of your fingers. “he doesn’t get to know where you are. he didn't earn that yet. right now, he’s sitting in his room staring at a photo of your bare shoulder. we need to lean into that.”
he taps the screen, typing out a message with one hand while keeping his eyes locked on yours. “if he asks where you are, you don’t give him a location. you give him a tease.”
he turns the phone around to show you what he wrote.
you: somewhere you’re not. 😉
your jaw drops. “jay! that is so forward! i can't say that!”
“you didn't say it, i did. now watch,” he says, tapping send before you can grab the device back.
you watch the screen in an agony of suspense. the response from jake is almost instantaneous this time.
jake: that’s not fair. maybe i want to be there.
your breath hitches. jake has never talked to you like this before. usually, his texts are sweet, casual, and safe. jay’s little formula is completely shifting the dynamic, turning a simple crush into a high-stakes game of cat and mouse.
“see?” jay says, his tone dripping with playful smugness as he slides the phone back into your hands. he leans his hip against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms and looking down at you. “he’s chasing now. when a guy says ‘maybe i want to be there,’ he’s testing the waters. he wants to see if the door is open. so, what do you do?”
“i… i tell him he can come over?” you guess, completely out of your depth.
jay groans, tossing his head back dramatically. “no! god, newbie, you’re trying to speed-run this. if you invite him over now, you’re giving up all your power. you have to make him work for it. keep him on his toes.”
he steps back into your personal space, the playful arrogance in his eyes shifting into something focused and instructional. he grabs your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up so you’re forced to look directly into his dark eyes.
“this is the suggestive texting masterclass,” jay explains softly, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitive skin of your jawline. “you always want to imply a double meaning. you want him to read your texts and wonder if you’re being totally innocent or incredibly dirty. it keeps his mind completely occupied with thoughts of you.”
he lets go of your chin, but the ghost of his touch leaves a burning trail on your skin. he points at your phone. “type this: ‘i don’t know, jake. i’m kind of a handful. not sure you could handle it.’”
your fingers are practically sweating as you type out the words exactly as he dictated. you hit send.
the typing bubbles appear immediately.
jake: try me. i’m pretty good at handling things.
you let out a soft, choked gasp, completely floored by the sheer boldness of jake's reply. your face is burning hot, your heart hammering against your ribs. you look up at jay, wide-eyed and completely breathless. “oh my god. it worked. it actually worked.”
jay doesn't look surprised at all. if anything, he’s studying your reaction with an intense, quiet curiosity. his eyes drop to your flushed cheeks, then down to your parted lips, before slowly rising back to meet your gaze. the playful, teasing smirk slowly fades from his face, replaced by a heavy, unreadable expression.
“of course it worked,” jay murmurs, his voice suddenly dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. he steps a fraction closer, completely erasing the distance between you until your clothes are almost brushing. “you’re a beautiful girl, newbie. when you actually give a guy a green light, he’s going to run straight through it.”
the air in the dorm room becomes completely stagnant, thick with a sudden, suffocating wave of tension. jay is looking at you with an intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his gaze feels heavy, physical, like a hand tracing the curve of your neck. for a terrifying, thrilling second, you forget all about your phone, all about jake’s texts, and all about the rules of these lessons.
you stare up at him, your heart in your throat, completely paralyzed by how easily he can shift the gravity in the room.
jay holds your gaze for one more lingering, breathless second. then, just as quickly as it appeared, the heavy tension snaps. a lazy, familiar smirk creeps back onto his sharp features, and he steps back, breaking the spell.
“alright, lock your phone,” jay says, tapping the top of your head playfully. “that’s enough digital damage for today. leave him on read for a few hours. let him stew in his own thoughts while he waits for you to reply.”
you quickly lock your screen, nodding dumbly as you try to force your lungs to remember how to breathe normally.
“lesson three concluded,” jay says, walking over to the door and swinging it open, looking entirely unbothered by the emotional hurricane he just caused in your chest. he gives you a sharp, teasing wink. “next time, newbie… we’re finally doing kissing mechanics. don’t forget to practice your posture before then.”
-------
four days pass, and your life feels like it has been completely split into two entirely different realities.
on one side of the screen, there’s the jake sim reality. and to your absolute shock, jay’s blueprint is working flawlessly. jake has been pursuing you with a fervor that leaves you dizzy. when you see him on campus now, he doesn't just give you a sweet, friendly wave from across the quad. he actively detours to walk with you to class. when you talk, his eyes don't wander; they stay locked onto your face, and he looks at you with this intense, focused hunger that makes your stomach do backflips.
last night, he texted you out of nowhere at 11:00 p.m. just to say he saw a sweater in a store window that reminded him of the photo you sent, adding a little tongue-in-cheek comment about how he's still waiting to find out where "somewhere you're not" is.
it's everything you wanted. you're finally getting the boy you’ve been pining over since freshman orientation. you should be ecstatic. you should be texting yunjin in a flurry of capital letters and celebratory emojis.
but instead, you find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling in the dead of night, feeling completely untethered.
the truth is a terrifying, heavy weight in your chest, and admitting it to yourself feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. because every time jake texts you, a tiny, dark voice in the back of your mind whispers that it isn’t actually your game he’s falling for. it’s jay’s. you’re just the actress reciting lines written by a boy who understands the mechanics of desire like the back of his hand.
and then there's the next lesson.
kissing mechanics.
your stomach drops into a cold abyss every time you think about it. you’re terrified. actual, physical kissing is a universe away from just holding eye contact or letting your shoulders brush during a laugh. it means jay’s hands on you. it means his face inches from yours, his lips touching yours, his sharp jawline, his heavy, low breathing. even if it’s entirely "theoretical" — even if he's just using his fingers to map out where to press or demonstrating the pacing on a pillow or explaining the biology of how a guy reacts — the mere thought of being that close to him makes your chest tighten until it hurts.
but beneath the suffocating layers of panic, there is an even darker, more humiliating truth that you barely have the courage to acknowledge in the privacy of your own head.
you were disappointed.
when you walked into room 314 a few days ago, fully braced for the kissing lesson, your heart had been pounding because you thought you were finally going to cross that terrifying physical threshold with him. and when jay had laughed, called you a newbie, and casually pushed the lesson back because you "weren't ready," a sudden, sharp pang of rejection had sliced right through you.
you had spent the rest of that afternoon acting annoyed and pouty, but deep down, your skin had been practically begging for the exact thing you claimed to be afraid of. you had wanted him to look at you and decide you were ready. you had wanted to know what his lips felt like, even if it was just a clinical demonstration.
it's a dangerous, toxic thought. jay is your tutor. he’s sunghoon’s best friend, a guy known for his selective, zero-strings-attached reputation, and he is actively helping you construct a trap to catch jake. confusing your feelings now would be absolute social suicide. it would ruin everything.
you roll onto your side, pulling your blanket tightly around your shoulders as you look at your phone. tomorrow afternoon is the day. there are no more text modules left to practice. no more posture corrections or wardrobe updates.
tomorrow, you have to look jay park in the eye and let him teach you how to kiss.
and as you close your eyes, trying to force yourself to sleep, you realize with a jolt of pure panic that you aren't sure which reality you're more afraid of anymore: the one where you finally kiss jake sim, or the one where you have to watch jay pull away from you when the lesson is over.
-------
the rain is drumming a steady rhythm against the glass of room 314 when you walk in. the afternoon light is weak, casting the dorm in a hazy, intimate shadow that immediately makes your throat feel dry. jay is sitting on the edge of his bed, his legs spread, hands loosely clasped between his knees. he’s wearing a soft, oversized gray crewneck sweater, looking entirely relaxed, while your nerves are stretched so tight they’re practically screaming.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says, his voice softer than usual, matching the quiet hum of the rain. he tracks your movement as you set your bag down, his eyes lingering on your tense shoulders. “you look like you’re walking to the gallows.”
“i’m just… anticipating,” you mumble, sitting on the opposite end of the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.
jay watches you for a beat, a faint, understanding smile touching his lips. “right. lesson four. kissing mechanics.” he shifts, leaning back against his headboard, his expression turning professional, though his dark eyes retain that sharp, observant glint. “before we start, a reminder of the rules. we agreed on a strict blueprint. entirely theoretical. no physical interaction. i’m here to give you the breakdown so you can take it to jake. clear?”
“clear,” you say. you try to sound relieved. you try to make your voice bright and cooperative. but a small, involuntary drop in your tone betrays you, a tiny hesitation that doesn’t escape his notice. a sudden, heavy wave of disappointment washes through you, sharp and humiliating, and you hate yourself for feeling it. you should be grateful for the boundary, but your skin feels suddenly cold.
jay’s eyes narrow slightly, analyzing the split-second change in your expression, but he doesn't comment on it. instead, he clears his throat and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“alright. let’s break down the mechanics,” jay begins, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that always makes your pulse spike. “kissing isn’t just about the lips, newbie. if you just dive in, it’s clumsy. it starts with the pacing. when jake leans in, you don’t rush to meet him halfway. you let him do the work. you tilt your chin up, keep your lips slightly parted — just a fraction — and breathe out softly. it signals invitation.”
you nod, trying to memorize the words, but your brain is panicking because jay is demonstrating the head tilt himself, his sharp jawline defining itself in the dim amber light of his desk lamp.
“when the actual contact happens, you start slow,” jay continues, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that feels almost physical. “it’s a gentle pressure. one lip tucked between his. you hold it for a beat, let the warmth build, and then you shift. it’s a rhythm. you use your hands — remember lesson two? — you let your fingers rest right on the side of his neck, just below the jaw. your thumb rests on his cheekstone. it stabilizes the movement, and it drives a guy absolutely crazy because it feels grounding.”
as he speaks, jay mimics the hand placement in the air, his long, elegant fingers moving with a slow grace that makes you track them like a hawk. the air in the room is growing increasingly thick, the space between you on the mattress suddenly feeling incredibly small.
“now,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “let’s practice the approach. the build-up of tension right before the lips touch is fifty percent of the kiss. if you panic there, the whole thing is ruined.”
he slides down the mattress, closing the distance between you until he’s sitting cross-legged directly in front of you. your knees are practically brushing.
“i’m going to act as if i’m going to kiss you,” jay instructs softly, his playful arrogance completely gone, replaced by a quiet, suffocating gravity. “i’m going to get close. your job is to hold eye contact, keep your breathing steady, and do not pull away. understand?”
“yes,” you whisper, your heart hammering so loudly against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it.
“look at me,” he commands gently.
you look up. jay leans in slowly.
the world outside the window completely ceases to exist. his movements are deliberate, agonizingly drawn out, giving your brain time to register every single detail. you see the dark depth of his eyes, the slight curve of his nose, the perfect, soft shape of his lips. he tilts his head to the side, a fraction of an inch, mapping out the angle perfectly.
closer. you can smell the rich, intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne mixed with the clean scent of his skin.
closer. his chest is almost touching yours, the warmth radiating off his body enveloping you in a heat wave. your breath catches in your throat, your lips parting automatically, exactly the way he taught you. your eyes flutter, desperately wanting to close, but you force them to stay open, locked onto his.
he stops.
his lips are barely half an inch from yours. you can feel the literal heat of his breath brushing against your skin, hovering right over your mouth. the tension in the microscopic space between you is a physical, electric current, pulling at you, begging you to lean forward just a millimeter to erase the agony of the distance. your heart is in your throat. you are completely paralyzed, drowning in the proximity of him.
jay stays perfectly still for three agonizing, breathless seconds, his gaze raking over your eyes, your nose, your trembling mouth. his jaw tightens, a sudden, fierce flash of hunger crossing his features before he forces it down.
slowly, deliberately, jay pulls back. the sudden rush of cool air between you feels like a physical shock. he sits straight up, clearing his throat, though his breathing is visibly shallower than it was five minutes ago.
“just like that,” jay says, his voice a little rough, a little strained. “you held the gaze. you didn't panic. do that with jake, and he’ll—”
the mention of jake’s name feels like a bucket of ice water, snapping something inside you. you look at jay — at his parted lips, his flushed neck, the sheer, unbothered control he’s trying to fake — and a sudden, reckless wave of desperation overrides every single rule, every single boundary, and every shred of your common sense.
and then something you would've never expected comes out of your mouth:
“jay, can you give me a practical example?”
the words hang in the air. jay freezes, his usual smirk vanishing. and for the first time since you walked into room 314, jay park looks completely caught off guard. his dark eyes widen just a fraction, his posture locking up as he stares at you in absolute silence. he stares at your face like he’s waiting for you to say you’re joking. the only sound in the room is the sound of the rain against the windowpane.
“what?” he asks, his voice a low, gravelly rasp. he tilts his head, blinking down at you like he’s entirely convinced his ears are playing tricks on him. “what did you just say, newbie?”
the sudden realization of what just tumbled out of your mouth hits you like a physical blow. your stomach plummets, and a fierce, blinding heat instantly erupts across your cheeks, burning all the way down to your neck. you instinctively try to pull your knees tighter to your chest, wanting nothing more than to shrink into a microscopic atom and disappear into the mattress.
“i… um,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to a mortified, breathless whisper. you look down at your hands, your fingers frantically twisting the fabric of your pajama pants. “i said… can you give me a practical example? like… a real one.”
jay doesn't move. he just stays cross-legged in front of you, absorbing your words. then, slowly, the shock on his face melts away. a brilliant, wicked, and entirely amused grin spreads across his sharp features. he lets out a low, rich chuckle that vibrates deep in his chest, leaning back slightly on his hands as he studies your purple face.
“wow,” jay murmurs, his tone dripping with pure, unadulterated amusement. “the quiet girl strikes again. you really are full of surprises, aren't you?”
“stop laughing at me!” you whine, hiding your face in your hands. your heart is beating so hard you can feel it in your teeth. “i’m being serious! i’m trying to be logical about this!”
“logical?” jay teases, his voice filled with a quiet, shaking laughter. he reaches out and gently, but firmly, tugs your wrists away from your face so you’re forced to look at him. he doesn't let go of your hands, keeping his fingers loosely looped around your wrists. “okay, professor. please, explain the logic to me. i’m dying to hear this.”
you swallow hard, your eyes darting everywhere but his lips. you try to summon every ounce of justification your panicked brain can manufacture.
“well… because!” you stammer, your voice incredibly shy, filled with an embarrassed pitch. “you said it yourself! you said kissing is all about the rhythm and the pacing. and— and you said if i panic during the approach, the whole thing is ruined! how am i supposed to know if i’m going to panic with jake if i haven't actually practiced the real thing? what if my timing is completely off? what if i accidentally bump teeth with him, jay? that would be traumatizing!”
jay listens to your anxious, stuttering speech, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners. he looks incredibly smug, entirely enjoying how completely flustered you are.
“so,” jay says slowly, a lazy, teasing purr in his voice as he lightly squeezes your wrists. “let me get this straight. purely for educational purposes… for my duties as your instructor… you think we should break the non-physical clause. for the sake of science.”
“yes!” you whisper-yell, your face burning hotter, if that was even physically possible. “it’s just… a hands-on lab! like chemistry class! it makes perfect sense!”
“chemistry, huh?” jay echoes, his voice dropping an octave, the vibrant laughter in his eyes shifting into something much darker, much more intense.
he slowly releases your wrists, but he doesn't move back. instead, he slides even closer on the mattress, completely invading your personal space until the heat radiating from his body wraps around you like a blanket. the playful, mocking expression of his face softens into something dangerous.
“you’re a terrible liar, newbie,” jay murmurs, his eyes dropping to your parted lips, staring at them for a long, unhurried second before rising back to yours. “you’re not thinking about jake sim’s teeth right now. and you’re definitely not thinking about science.”
your breath hitches completely, your voice trapped in your throat.
“but…” jay whispers, his hand slowly rising to cup the side of your face, his broad palm warm against your burning cheek, his thumb gently resting right on your cheekbone — exactly where he had just described a minute ago. “if you’re really that worried about failing your practical exam… i guess your teacher is just going to have to show you how it’s done.”
jay doesn't give you a chance to think, to backtrack, or to let the embarrassment completely swallow you whole.
his fingers anchor themselves gently behind your neck, his thumb still resting right on your cheekbone, stabilizing you exactly the way he had mapped out verbally just moments before. he leans in, but there is no hesitation this time. the agonizing half-inch of space between your lips vanishes in a split second.
when his lips first touch yours, a gasp catches in your throat, and jay uses that exact fraction of a second to deepen the pressure. his lips are incredibly soft but firm, moving against yours with a practiced, devastating slow rhythm. a full-body shiver ripples through you, your hands automatically reaching out to clutch at the fabric of his soft gray sweater just to keep yourself grounded.
“breathe, newbie,” jay whispers against your mouth, his voice a low, rough vibration that sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. “don't hold your breath. follow me, don't overthink it.”
he pulls back just a millimeter, letting the cool air hit your wet lips before tilting his head to a slightly different angle and sliding right back in. it's a gentle, heavy pressure. he tucks your lower lip between his, sucking on it so softly it makes a quiet, embarrassing sound echo in the quiet dorm room. you try to copy the movement, your lips parting a little more as you attempt to match his pace.
“there you go,” jay murmurs, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he praises you mid-kiss. his hand slides from your neck down to your shoulder, his broad palm squeezing gently through your clothes. “keep your hands right there. stay relaxed. you’re doing perfect.”
he leads you flawlessly, controlling the entire gravity of the moment. every time you feel like you're about to lose your mind from the sheer intensity of it, jay slows things down, lingering in a soft, pressing rhythm that lets you catch up. your eyes have completely fluttered shut now, the darkness making the sensation of his lips, his warm hands, and the intoxicating scent of his sandalwood cologne a thousand times more overwhelming. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the heat of his mouth, forgetting about the rain outside, forgetting about the syllabus, forgetting about everything.
when jay finally draws back, he does it slowly, his lips brushing against yours one last time before he fully breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of warmth leaves you feeling completely dazed. you slowly blink your eyes open, your chest heaving as you try to force air back into your lungs. jay is still hovering inches away from your face. his dark hair is slightly messy, his own breathing is visibly shallower, and his usually perfectly composed lips are a dark, flushed red. he’s staring down at you with a heavy, unreadable gaze that is entirely devoid of his usual playful arrogance.
for three long seconds, neither of you says a word.
then, reality comes crashing back down on you with the force of a tidal wave.
oh my god. you just kissed jay park. you practically begged him to do it. you used a fake excuse about "science" and "chemistry class" just to get him to put his hands on you.
a massive, blinding wave of mortification slaps you across the face. your cheeks explode into a furious, bright purple flush. you instantly let go of his sweater as if it had turned into white-hot iron, scrambling backward on the mattress until your back hits his headboard. you pull your knees all the way to your chest, burying your face completely in your arms, a small, choked groan escaping your throat.
“hey,” jay’s smooth voice breaks the silence, a soft, familiar chuckle bubbling up in his chest. you hear the mattress shift as he slides closer to you. “what are you hiding for? you’re the one who demanded a practical exam, professor.”
“please don’t look at me,” you whine into your knees, your voice incredibly muffled and strained with pure embarrassment. “i am going to jump out of that window. i am actually going to die right here on your bed.”
“don’t die yet, we still have to grade you,” jay teases, his tone dropping into that lazy, effortless purr. you feel his long fingers gently tap the top of your head. “come on, look up. i promise i won’t tease you too bad.”
you slowly, hesitantly lift your chin just enough to peek at him through the gap in your arms. jay is sitting right there, leaning his elbow on his knee with his chin resting in his palm, watching you with an incredibly amused, knowing grin.
“so,” jay murmurs, his dark eyes locking onto your wide, panicked ones. “how was the lesson? did it help clarify the mechanics for you?”
“i… yes,” you squeak out, your face still burning hot.
you pull your arms tighter around your legs, your heart still hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs. you are completely, thoroughly embarrassed — more humiliated than you have ever been in your entire life. but beneath the suffocating layers of shyness, as you look at jay's slightly curved lips, you feel a terrifyingly honest truth settling deep in your chest.
you liked it. you liked it a lot. in fact, you liked it so much that the mere thought of taking these newly learned "mechanics" and using them on jake sim suddenly felt entirely, completely impossible.
-------
you keep your mouth shut. you don’t tell yunjin. in fact, you don’t tell a single living soul.
when you get back to your shared apartment that evening, yunjin is sitting on the kitchen counter eating dry cereal straight from the box, her eyes instantly narrowing into little laser beams the second the front door clicks shut. you quickly mutter something about having a massive headache from the library lights, sprint into your bedroom, and lock the door behind you. if you open your mouth, even just to breathe, you’re terrified the taste of jay’s strawberry-and-mint lip balm will somehow manifest in the air and give you away.
you spend the next two days in a state of absolute, localized hysteria.
the embarrassment is a physical weight, pressing down on your chest until you feel lightheaded. you can't stop replaying the feeling of his broad palm cradling your jaw, the specific, gravelly pitch of his voice when he whispered “breathe, newbie,” and the agonizingly soft, rhythmic pull of his lips against yours. you had loved it. you had loved it so much that just thinking about it while sitting in a Tuesday morning lecture makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip.
and that’s not even the worst part. the worst part — the thing that is currently keeping you awake at 3:00 a.m. staring at your ceiling fan — is how the lesson had actually ended.
right before you had practically bolted out of his dorm room, your face still a catastrophic shade of purple, jay had stood by the door with his hands shoved casually into his cargo pants. he had looked down at you, that slow, devastatingly handsome smirk firmly back in place, and murmured: “since you passed your practical exam with such high marks, newbie… i’ll let you call the shots for lesson five. it can be anything you want. think about it.”
anything you want.
how are you supposed to walk back into room 314 on thursday afternoon, look jay park in his incredibly symmetrical, aristocratic face, and say: 'oh, yeah, hi, remember how i said i wanted to learn for science? well, the science was great, can we please just make out for another hour?'
you can’t. you literally cannot do that. it would destroy the flimsy, pathetic shield of "educational purposes" you’ve been hiding behind. it would mean admitting that you aren't a student trying to impress jake sim anymore; it would mean admitting that jay has completely, effortlessly rewired your brain in the span of three weeks.
speaking of jake, his reality is becoming increasingly harder to navigate. he texts you a picture of a coffee cup on Wednesday morning: 'at the café near the library. wish you were somewhere i am today.'
you stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. a week ago, a text like that would have made you scream into your pillow. it’s exactly what you wanted. it’s a direct reference to the tease jay helped you send him. but now, looking at the letters, all you can think about is jay’s chest pressed against your back, his warm hands adjusting your waist in front of the mirror, and his low voice telling you to let him suffer.
when you reply with a simple, sweet 'awkward timing, i'm stuck in a study group! next time x', it feels like you’re writing a script for a play you’ve completely lost interest in starring in.
by thursday afternoon, your anxiety has reached a fever pitch. you change your sweater twice, eventually settling on a high-necked, oversized crewneck that offers absolutely zero skin-to-air vulnerability. you walk up the stairs of the west quad like a prisoner marching to the electric chair, your knees feeling strangely hollow.
when you reach room 314, you stand outside the heavy wooden door for a full sixty seconds, your hand raised to knock, your heart hammering a rushed rhythm against your ribs.
just be normal, you tell yourself, closing your eyes tightly. ask him to practice advanced flirting. ask him to break down how to read body language across a crowded room. do not look at his mouth. do not think about his hands.
you take one final, deep breath, brace your shoulders, and knock.
the door swings open, and jay is standing there looking entirely too comfortable in a soft cream-colored knit sweater and dark trousers. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, his gaze dropping to your high-necked crewneck before rising back to your face with a slow, knowing amusement.
“well, look who it is,” jay says, stepping back to let you into the room. the door closes behind you with a quiet, solid click that feels incredibly final. “come on in, newbie. i was starting to think you’d skipped town.”
“i wouldn’t skip town,” you mumble, keeping your eyes trained firmly on his desk as you walk past him. you sit on the very edge of his bed, your posture rigid and stiff, your hands tightly clasped in your lap.
jay doesn't sit in his desk chair this time. instead, he walks over and leans his hip against the edge of the mattress, just a couple of feet away from you. he crosses his arms, tilting his head as his sharp, observant eyes trace the tense line of your shoulders, the frantic way your fingers are twitching, and the obvious blush already coloring your cheeks.
“alright,” jay murmurs, his voice low and conversational. “lesson five. you’re calling the shots today. what’s on the agenda, professor? more chemistry labs, or are we pivoting?”
you clear your throat aggressively, trying to sound as clinical and professional as possible. “i think… i think we should practice advanced flirting. like, body language across a crowded room, or how to subtly command attention in a group conversation. i think that’s a really logical next step for jake.”
jay doesn't say anything for a long, agonizing beat. he just stands there, watching you stumble over your words. then, a slow, dangerous smile spreads across his lips, his eyes glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief. he knows you're lying. he can see right through your pathetic little shield, and he is clearly planning on playing dirty.
“advanced flirting in a crowd,” jay repeats smoothly, nodding his head as if he’s taking you completely seriously. “okay. sure. let’s practice that. but you know, advanced flirting isn’t just about looking across a room, newbie. it’s about what you do when you finally get close to someone in a crowded, loud space. when the music is too loud and you have to make them listen to only you.”
before you can even process his words, jay moves.
he slides onto the bed, shifting his weight until he is sitting directly beside you. his thigh presses flush against yours, the heavy, intoxicating warmth of his body immediately enveloping you. your breath hitches, your entire body going completely rigid as you stare straight ahead, terrified to look at him.
“let’s set the scene,” jay whispers, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through the mattress. he leans in closer, his chest brushing against your arm. “we’re at a busy bar. the music is throwing heavy bass. jake is standing right next to you, but there are people everywhere, pushing into your space. if you just talk normally, he won't hear you. you have to close the distance.”
he leans over, his face entering your peripheral vision. you bite your lip, staring straight ahead at his closet door, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs it feels painful.
then, jay eliminates the space entirely.
he leans over your shoulder, his chest pressing firmly against your back. he tilts his head, burying his face right in the crook of your neck, just an inch away from your sensitive skin. his hot, heavy breath fans out across your jawline and the side of your neck, sending a violent, electric shiver straight down your spine. you let out a soft, helpless gasp, your fingers tightly gripping the fabric of your own sweater.
“if you want him to notice you,” jay murmurs, his lips brushing against the tiny hairs on your neck as he speaks, his voice a devastatingly hot, quiet rumble right against your ear, “you don’t shout over the noise. you lean in. right here. where it’s quiet.”
you can feel the warmth of his lips moving, the heat of his skin radiating into yours. the air in the room is completely gone, replaced by the suffocating, heavy scent of his sandalwood cologne. your mind is a chaotic, blurred mess; you can’t think about jake, you can’t think about advanced flirting, you can’t think about anything other than the agonizing friction of jay’s body pressed against yours.
“and then,” jay continues softly, his hand slowly rising to rest on the curve of your waist, his large palm squeezing gently through your thick sweater, anchoring you to him, “you tell him something confidential. something that makes him forget the entire room exists.”
he lingers there for an agonizing, breathless three seconds, his breath hot against your ear, letting the agonizing tension build until you’re practically trembling under his touch. you’re completely paralyzed, your lips parted, waiting, secretly begging for him to just turn your face and kiss you again.
instead, jay slowly draws his head back just a fraction. he doesn't move his body away, keeping his chest pressed to your back and his hand firmly on your waist, but he tilts his head so he can look at the side of your face. his eyes are dark, intense.
“but we aren't at a crowded bar, newbie,” jay whispers, his voice dropping even lower, turning into something raw and fiercely honest. his thumb rubs a slow circle into your waist. “it’s just you and me in a quiet room. and your shoulders are up to your ears because you’re lying to me.”
you swallow hard, a shaky breath escaping your lips.
jay leans in just a millimeter closer, his lips almost brushing your earlobe. “so stop playing games with me. look at me and tell me what you really want to do for lesson five.”
you swallow hard, the feel of his thumb rubbing slow, deliberate circles through the fabric of your sweater making it completely impossible to form a coherent thought. your gaze is frozen on the wrinkled blankets of his bed, your pulse hammering a rapid rhythm in your ears. jay doesn't move. he stays right there, his chest warm against your back, his breath a steady, intoxicating heat against the side of your neck, patiently waiting you out.
"i'm waiting, newbie," he murmurs, his voice a low, teasing purr that completely undoes the last shred of your resolve.
"i... i want to practice kissing again," you blurts out, the words rushing out of you in a desperate, breathless squeak.
the hand on your waist pauses for a fraction of a second. jay doesn't immediately pull back, but you can feel the slight shift in his posture, the way his jaw tightens against your hair. you quickly scramble to cover your track, the sheer embarrassment forcing your brain into overdrive as you try to construct a pathetic safety net of logic.
"because— because of the mechanics!" you stammer quickly, your voice dropping to a mortified whisper as you twist your fingers together. "the last time... i was entirely caught off guard, jay. and i felt like i was completely awful at it. i didn't know where to put my hands, and my timing was definitely off, and... and if i'm going to be ready for jake, i need to actually make sure i can do the rhythm properly without freezing up. it’s just for the lesson. for practice."
the silence that follows is thick enough to cut with a knife. for three agonizing seconds, you’re entirely convinced you’ve gone too far, that he’s going to laugh at your transparent excuse and tell you the lesson is over.
then, slowly, jay draws back.
you force yourself to turn your head, your cheeks burning a bright, furious pink as you look at him. jay is studying your face, his dark eyes incredibly heavy and focused. the playful, arrogant smirk you expected isn't there; instead, his lips are parted slightly, his gaze dropping to your mouth before rising back to meet your eyes with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"for practice," he echoes, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrates straight to your core.
"yes," you whisper.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into something thick and serious. he slides closer, crossing his legs so he’s sitting directly in front of you, completely erasing the distance. "if we’re going to fix your rhythm, we need to do it right. look at me."
you lift your chin, your eyes locking onto his. jay doesn't hesitate this time. his large, warm hand rises, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring right on your jawline to tilt your face up. he leans in, and before your brain can even register the proximity, his lips are pressing firmly against yours.
the contact is an immediate shock of heat. unlike the brief practical exam from days ago, jay doesn't start with a gentle question. he slides his lips over yours with a slow, heavy confidence, guiding your mouth to open slightly with a soft, persistent pressure.
"put your hands on my shoulders," jay whispers directly against your mouth, his breath hot and ragged as he pulls back just a millimeter to give the instruction. "don't just let them hang there. hold onto me."
your hands shake as you lift them, your fingers clutching tightly at the soft cream fabric of his knit sweater. the moment your palms make contact with his broad shoulders, jay lets out a low, approving hum deep in his throat. he tilts his head to the opposite angle, his lips sealing over yours again, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate pace.
he teaches you through the movement itself. when your movements get too rushed or frantic from the sheer panic of how good it feels, jay uses the firm grip on the back of your neck to slow you down, lingering in a heavy, pressing rhythm that forces you to match his breath. his tongue lightly brushes against your bottom lip, a subtle, electrifying hint that makes a quiet, helpless sound escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin of your jawline, pulling you closer until your chest is completely pressed against his.
the "practice kiss" begins to stretch, the boundaries of the lesson blurring until the air in the dorm room feels thick and heavy with a sudden, suffocating wave of genuine friction. it isn't just a clinical demonstration anymore. his lips are moving against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his breathing turning shallow and rough against your cheek. your fingers tangle deeper into the knit of his sweater, your body leaning entirely into his warmth, completely lost in the intoxicating taste of him. it’s a full-on makeout, a lingering, breathless collision that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim.
suddenly, as if realizing exactly how far the line has been crossed, jay stiffens.
he pulls away, his hand sliding out of your hair as he abruptly breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you gasping for air, your lips tingling and flushed a deep red. you scramble back a few inches, your heart thumping violently against your ribs as reality comes crashing down on you like ice water.
the silence in the room is deafening, save for the sound of your ragged breathing. jay is sitting right in front of you, his dark hair completely messy from your fingers, his chest heaving under his sweater. he looks completely ungrounded, his eyes staring down at his own hands for a long, heavy beat before he finally forces himself to look up at you.
the atmosphere is thick with a sharp, suffocating awkwardness. both of you are completely aware that that wasn't on the syllabus.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts slightly on the mattress, trying desperately to summon his usual composed, unbothered demeanor.
“that was… good,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and completely lacking its usual playful smugness. he avoids looking directly at your lips, his dark eyes focusing on your forehead instead as he slides off the bed and stands up. “your timing is… it’s fine. we’ll work on it.”
the minute those words leave jay’s mouth, the spell breaks entirely. you don't even wait for him to officially dismiss you. you practically scramble off the edge of his bed, your sneakers skidding slightly on the hardwood floor of his dorm as you snatch your tote bag from his desk chair with trembling hands.
“i— i have to go,” you stammer, your voice a high, frantic squeak that you barely recognize. you can't even look him in the eye; your gaze is glued to the door handle as you sprint toward it. “i have… a study group. and a paper. thank you for the lesson!”
you yank the door open and fling yourself out into the hallway, slamming it shut behind you before jay can even utter a response.
the walk — or rather, the hyperventilating run — back to your apartment is a blur of pure, unadulterated panic. your chest feels incredibly tight, your lungs burning as the cool evening air hits your face, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging fire still burning on your lips. your lips are tingling, slightly swollen, and heavy with the undeniable taste of him.
it’s for jake, you tell yourself, your fingers gripping the straps of your tote bag so tightly your knuckles turn a stark, ghostly white. it’s entirely for jake.
you turn the corner past the campus library, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps as you mentally repeat the words like a sacred mantra. the only reason i asked him to do that is because jake is going to kiss me soon. yunjin said jay is the best teacher. i just needed hands-on experience so i don’t humiliate myself when jake finally makes a move. it’s an educational baseline. that’s all it is.
but the anxious pacing of your thoughts only gets faster, louder, and more desperate.
if i didn't practice with jay, i would have frozen up with jake. jay was just correcting my rhythm. he said my timing was fine. so now, when jake kisses me, it’s going to be perfect. i’m doing this to save my future with jake. jay is just an instrument. a tutor. a textbook.
you push open the heavy glass door to your apartment building, practically taking the stairs two at a time because the elevator feels too slow, too claustrophobic for the storm currently raging inside your head.
it doesn't matter that my heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. it doesn't matter that i forgot how to breathe. it doesn't matter that i wanted him to keep going. you reach your front door, fumbling blindly with your keys, your hands shaking so violently that the metal clicks loudly against the lock. it’s for jake. it’s all for jake sim. it has to be.
you unlock the door and burst inside, instantly slamming it behind you and leaning your back against the wood, letting out a long, shaky exhale. the apartment is dark and quiet — yunjin isn't home yet — which is a blessing, because if she took one look at your wild eyes and bitten lips, she would know instantly that you didn't just practice advanced flirting.
you drop your bag on the floor and walk straight into the bathroom, flicking on the harsh overhead light. you lean over the sink and stare at your reflection in the mirror.
your cheeks are still flushed a deep, telltale crimson. your hair is slightly unruly where jay's fingers had tangled into it, and your lips are undeniably darker, stung red from the heavy, lingering pressure of his mouth. you look completely undone. you look like a girl who just got thoroughly made out with by jay park.
your phone suddenly buzzes in your pocket, the sharp vibration making you jump.
with a racing heart, you pull it out. a notification blocks the screen.
jake: hey! just finished soccer practice. totally random, but are you free to grab dinner tomorrow night? just the two of us? 😊
you stare at the glowing text, the emojis, the sweet, easy invitation from the boy you’ve been dreaming about for months. it’s the exact moment you’ve been working toward. the ultimate goal. the reason you embarrassed yourself, the reason you sent the photos, the reason you walked into room 314 in the first place.
you lift your eyes back to your reflection in the mirror, your thumb hovering over the screen to type out a reply.
see? you think, your mind screaming at you to believe the lie as a cold sweat breaks out across your palms. it worked. the lessons worked. everything i did today… it was all just so i could be ready for tomorrow night. with jake.
but as you finally press your thumb to the glass to type 'i'd love to', your eyes automatically drift down to your own lips, and the phantom sensation of jay's heavy, rough breathing against your skin returns with a fierce, suffocating intensity that leaves you completely breathless.
-------
the afternoon sun is hitting the windows of room 314 when you walk in, casting long, warm bars of light across the hardwood floor. it’s a sharp contrast to the stormy darkness of your last lesson, but the familiar scent of sandalwood and clean laundry still hits you the second the door opens.
jay is sitting at his desk, casually typing something on his laptop, but he looks up the moment you step inside. his dark eyes immediately track your movement as you set your tote bag down by the door. he looks entirely composed, the previous lesson's awkwardness seemingly evaporated from his demeanor, replaced by his usual calm, lazy aura.
“welcome back, newbie,” jay says smoothly, closing his laptop with a quiet click. he stands up, stretching his arms slightly before walking over to his mini-fridge. “how was the big date?”
you sit down on the edge of his mattress, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. just the mention of yesterday makes a strange swirl of emotions tighten in your stomach.
“it was… really nice,” you say softly, staring down at the pattern of his blanket. “jake was amazing. he took me to that little Italian place downtown, the one with the string lights. he paid for everything, even when i tried to argue with him. and he was just so sweet, jay. he listened to me talk about my classes, he laughed at my jokes, and he walked me all the way back to my apartment building.”
jay leans against the edge of his desk, taking a sip of water, his eyes locked onto your face. “sounds like a textbook perfect date. so why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”
you swallow the lump in your throat, your voice dropping to a shy, embarrassed whisper. “because… he didn't kiss me.”
jay pauses, his water bottle halfway down from his lips. a sudden, sharp curiosity flashes in his eyes. “he didn't?”
“no,” you groan, burying your face in your knees for a second before looking back up at him, completely miserable. “we stood on the porch of my building for like three whole minutes. i did the eye contact. i did the posture thing you taught me. i held his gaze, my lips were parted, i did everything right! but he just… he smiled, ruffled my hair, told me he had an amazing time, and said goodnight. i don’t get it. did i do something wrong? did he see right through me?”
jay stares at you for a beat, and then, a slow, incredibly wicked smirk begins to crawl onto his face. the intense seriousness from the end of your last lesson is gone, replaced by a wave of pure, triumphant amusement. he sets his water bottle down on the desk and steps closer to the bed.
“newbie, you didn't do anything wrong,” jay says, his voice a low, deeply satisfied rumble. “you’re just dealing with jake sim. the guy is a traditionalist. he’s old-school. he’s not going to lunges at a girl on the very first dinner date, especially not a girl he actually respects and likes as much as he clearly likes you.”
he hitches his usual desk chair over, spinning it around to sit directly in front of you, his knees inches from yours. “honestly? this is perfect for us. it means we’re officially two steps ahead of him.”
you blink, confused. “two steps ahead? what do you mean?”
“i mean,” jay says, leaning forward, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a suffocating amount of focus, “by the time he finally gets the nerve to make a real move on you, you’re not just going to know how to handle a basic kiss. you’re going to be a master. which brings us to today's actual syllabus.”
he rests his elbows on his knees, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly register that instantly sets your pulse racing. “today, we’re moving past the initial contact. we’re talking about a full-on makeout. the pacing, the breathing, how to build the physical escalation without getting overwhelmed. how to take control of the rhythm so he’s the one losing his mind, not you.”
your breath hitches completely. the memory of how your last "practice kiss" had spiraled into a lingering, breathless fog flashes through your brain, making your lips tingle instantly.
jay studies the sudden, bright pink flush spreading across your cheeks. his smile softens just a fraction, a quiet, intense gravity taking over his features. he leans in a microscopic inch closer, his eyes dropping to your mouth before rising back to yours.
“so,” jay murmurs, his voice a heavy, dangerous purr. “do you want today's lesson to be purely theoretical… or do you want a practical example, newbie?”
your heart is thumping so hard against your ribs you’re certain he can hear it. you know you should say theoretical. you know you should protect your sanity, preserve the lie that this is all just an educational game for jake. but as you look at jay — at his sharp jawline, his messy dark hair, his perfect, parted lips — the desperation from days ago takes over completely.
you don’t say a word. you just look him straight in the eye and nod your head, a tiny, submissive gesture.
“good girl,” jay whispers, the words vibrating straight down your spine.
he doesn't waste a single second. jay slides out of the chair and onto the mattress, crossing his legs right in front of you. his large, warm hand rises instantly, his long fingers sliding effortlessly into the hair at the back of your neck, his thumb anchoring firmly against your jawline to tilt your face up.
“remember the pacing,” jay murmurs right before his lips touch yours. “let me lead first.”
the instant his mouth seals over yours, the entire world outside room 314 completely vanishes. his lips are incredibly soft but heavy with a firm, demanding pressure that immediately makes a soft, helpless sigh escape your throat. jay catches the sound, his thumb gently stroking the sensitive skin of your jaw, guiding your mouth to open just a fraction more.
“breathe through your nose, newbie,” he whispers against your lips, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he shifts the angle of his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, agonizingly deliberate rhythm. “don’t rush it. follow my pace.”
you lift your hands, your fingers shaking as you clutch tightly at the soft fabric of his knit sweater, pulling yourself closer until your chest is flush against his. jay lets out a low, rough hum of approval deep in his throat at the touch, his grip on the back of your neck tightening just enough to anchor you completely.
the kiss quickly deepens, the boundaries of a simple "lesson" shattering instantly into a heavy, intoxicating fog. jay shows you how to escalate the tension; his lips move against yours with a raw, unhurried hunger, his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth in a soft, agonizing tug that leaves you completely breathless.
“when the energy shifts,” jay murmurs, his voice raspy as he briefly parts from your lips to trace a line of burning kisses along your jawline, his lips hovering right over the sensitive skin beneath your ear, “you use your hands to change the dynamic. don’t just hold my sweater. slide your hands up. touch his neck.”
as if under a spell, you follow his whispered instructions. you let your hands slide up his broad chest, your fingers wrapping around the warm skin of his neck, your thumbs resting just below his sharp jawline. the physical contact makes jay let out a sharp, ragged exhale against your skin.
he pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes clouded with a fierce, heavy intensity that has absolutely nothing to do with jake sim. his chest is heaving under his sweater, his lips dark and swollen.
“just like that,” jay whispers, his large hand sliding down from your neck to firmly grip your waist, pulling your hips a fraction closer to his on the mattress. “you control the distance. if he gets too frantic, you hold him right there. if you want more… you pull him back in.”
he doesn't wait for you to pull him. jay leans back down, his mouth crashing back onto yours with a sudden, overwhelming wave of passion that makes your head spin. it’s a full-on, breathless makeout, his lips parting yours completely, his thumb rubbing a slow, heavy circle into your waist through your shirt. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the intoxicating taste of him, your fingers tangling into his dark hair as you match his pace, completely forgetting who this lesson was supposed to be for.
when jay finally draws back, it is agonizingly slow, his lips lingering against yours in three short, pressing kisses before he completely breaks the contact.
the sudden loss of his warmth leaves you shivering, your chest heaving as you desperately try to force air back into your lungs. jay stays hovering inches away, his forehead resting lightly against yours for a brief, breathless second before he slowly straightens up. his breathing is completely ungrounded, his eyes dark as he stares down at your thoroughly kissed, flushed face.
the silence in the room is suffocating, heavy with the weight of what just happened.
jay clears his throat, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck as he shifts back on the mattress, trying to force his usual lazy, unbothered smirk back onto his face — though his trembling fingers completely give him away.
“that was… the baseline,” jay says, his voice rough, strained, and entirely devoid of his usual arrogance. he looks away from your lips, his gaze tracking a stray shadow on the wall instead. “we’ll… we’ll stop there for today. your pacing is fine, newbie. jake won’t know what hit him.”
he stands up quickly, walking over to the door to open it for you, but as you scramble off the bed with a racing heart, you realize with a sudden wave of absolute panic that you don't care about jake sim's reaction at all anymore.
-------
you would be lying to yourself if you had said you hadn't been eager for more after that. you were. in fact, you started meeting jay almost every day so you could "practice" making out.
it became an unspoken, addictive routine. you didn't even wait for a scheduled thursday afternoon anymore. a quick, vague text from jay — ‘my room’s free if you want to study’ — and you would find yourself walking toward room 314 with your heart already doing double-flips inside your chest. you didn't even bring your notebooks anymore. what was the point of pretending?
with every single day that passed, the lessons started escalating little by little, the boundaries of "basic mechanics" crumbling into dust.
one afternoon, the air in his dorm room felt so suffocatingly hot that your hands grew bold. jay was guiding you through a deeper rhythm, his lips heavy and possessive against yours, when your fingers strayed from the hem of his sweater and slid up, slipping underneath the fabric. your bare palms pressed flat against the warm, solid skin of his lower back. you remember the exact way his entire body had rigidified for a split second, a low, ragged growl catching in his throat before he completely lost his composure, his lips turning frantic against yours.
another day, the lesson wasn't about the mouth at all. jay had backed you up against his closed closet door, his large hands anchoring your wrists gently against the wood above your head. “advanced escalation,” he had whispered against your skin, his voice a dangerous, gravelly rasp right before he buried his face in your neck. he had kissed his way down your jawline, his lips warm and demanding as he sucked softly on the sensitive skin right above your collarbone, leaving a faint, stinging heat that made your knees turn to literal water.
but the most shocking shift — the one that still makes your face burn a furious purple when you think about it during lectures — happened just two days ago.
jay had been sitting in the middle of his unmade bed, watching you pace around his room as you anxiously rambled on about your nerves. without a word, he had reached out, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you down. before your brain could even process the movement, jay's hands were on your waist, lifting you up and guiding you until you were completely straddling his lap, your knees resting on either side of his thighs.
your whole body had gone into a state of absolute shock, your face inches from his. but jay hadn't teased you. he had just looked up at you with those dark, fiercely intense eyes, his thumbs rubbing slow, heavy circles into your hips. “this is how you handle the proximity,” he had murmured. and then he had pulled you down by your neck.
you had kissed for a whole hour. a full, breathless, uninterrupted sixty minutes where your hands were tangled in his hair, his broad chest was crushed against yours, and his mouth was relentlessly teaching you a rhythm that made your entire soul ache. your body had fit perfectly against his, the heat between you completely consuming the small room. and you had enjoyed every single, agonizing second of it.
still, despite the bare skin, the bruised lips, and the sheer intimacy of sitting on his lap, you kept trying to convince yourself it was all because of jake.
every night, when you lay awake in your own bed staring at the ceiling, you forced yourself to repeat the old script. it’s not because of jay. jay park has absolutely nothing to do with it. he’s just an instructor. he’s just incredibly good at what he does because he’s experienced, and i am just a good student taking advantage of a resource.
you told yourself that the violent butterflies in your stomach, the way your hands shook whenever you touched his skin, and the desperate hunger you felt every time he leaned in were all just a biological reaction. you were just enjoying the physical sensation of making out because, in the back of your mind, you were projecting. you were simply thinking about doing all of these things with jake sim. jay was just the proxy, the placeholder, the mannequin you were using to perfect your technique so that when the time finally came, you would drive jake absolutely crazy.
or at least… that’s what you said to yourself.
-------
you keep your mouth shut, maintaining the absolute lockdown on your secret. whenever yunjin asks how the lessons are going, you look her straight in the eye and lie through your teeth, insisting it’s all strictly theoretical. you tell her jay is just drawing diagrams and explaining body language, all while your lips are still practically stinging from being thoroughly devoured by him just an hour prior.
in the meantime, you keep hanging out with jake. he takes you to get ice cream, he walks you to class, and he remains the perfect, sweet gentleman. but whenever he holds your hand or leans in to give you a polite, fleeting peck on the cheek, a bizarre, hollow sensation settles in your chest. you keep expecting the earth to move, expecting to feel that white-hot, electric current that roars through your veins every time you walk into room 314. but it never comes. you’re just building up to it, you tell yourself desperately. the real spark will happen later. jay is just priming you.
and then comes today's lesson.
the afternoon sun is completely blocked out by the heavy curtains jay drew across his window, plunging the dorm room into a dark, suffocatingly intimate haze. you’re sitting directly on his lap, your legs straddling his thighs. the friction between your bodies is a living, breathing thing. you've grown bold over the past week; your hands are slipped entirely beneath his oversized tee, your palms pressed flat against the hot, defined muscles of his chest. your hips shift instinctively, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the friction, your mouth moving against his in a deep, wet rhythm that leaves you both completely breathledd.
jay lets out a sharp, ragged groan directly into your mouth. his hands, which had been anchoring your hips, suddenly tighten with a bruising force. he abruptly pulls his head back, his breathing incredibly shallow and heavy as he forces you to stop moving.
his dark hair is completely unruly, his lips a dark, swollen crimson. he looks up at you, his eyes clouded with a raw, fierce hunger that makes your stomach do a violent flip.
“jesus, newbie,” jay rasps, his chest heaving under his shirt as his hands steady your trembling waist. he takes a long, ragged breath, his voice dropping into an incredibly low, gravelly register. “hold on. stop moving for a second.”
you blink down at him, dazed, your heart hammering against your ribs. “what? did i… did i do it wrong?”
jay lets out a low, breathless chuckle, though his jaw remains incredibly tight. “no. you didn't do it wrong. that’s the problem. the way you move…” he pauses, his intense gaze raking over your flushed face, tracking the absolute innocence in your wide eyes. a sudden, heavy curiosity settles over his features. “have you actually ever done anything sexual before this? like, at all?”
the question hits you like a bucket of ice water. a fierce, blinding wave of mortification instantly erupts across your cheeks. you instinctively try to shift off his lap, but his grip on your waist tightens, keeping you anchored right there against his heat.
“no,” you squeak out, your voice dropping to an incredibly shy, embarrassed whisper. you look down at his collarbone, unable to hold his gaze. “i haven't. i’ve never… i’ve never done anything. i told you, i'm a total newbie.”
jay stares at you, a complex flash of emotion crossing his face — surprise, a sudden wave of protectiveness, and a trace of possessiveness that he quickly tries to mask. he clears his throat, his thumb rubbing a slow, grounding circle into your hip.
“right,” jay murmurs, his voice softening just a fraction. “okay. well. you’re doing great for a beginner.”
you swallow hard, the frantic script in your head screaming at you to take control, to justify why you're enjoying this so much, why you’re pushing the boundaries. you look at his perfectly parted lips, then back up to his dark eyes, and a reckless, desperate thought tumbles right out of your mouth.
“jay… can you teach me about the rest of it?”
jay freezes, his hand instantly stopping its movement on your hip. “the rest of it?”
“yes,” you stammer, your voice incredibly small but filled with a panicked, stubborn determination. you force the lie out, hiding behind your golden shield. “i mean… for jake! what if things escalate on our next date? what if he wants to go further? i don’t want to be completely clueless. i want to know how to make him feel good. i need to learn how sex works. the mechanics.”
jay studies your face for a long, agonizingly silent beat. the air in the room feels impossibly thick. you can feel the sudden, intense heat radiating from his lap, a physical reminder of exactly what your grinding had done to him. but jay is a professional, and more than that, he refuses to pressure you or take advantage of the ridiculous web of lies you've spun.
slowly, deliberately, jay lifts his hands and gently guides you off his lap. the sudden loss of his warmth makes you shiver. he sits back against his headboard, pulling one knee up to his chest, his expression shifting into something clinical, serious, and entirely focused.
“alright, newbie,” jay says, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that commands your absolute attention. “if you want to talk about how to make a guy feel good, we’re keeping this strictly theoretical. understand? no hands-on for this part.”
you nod quickly, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed, your hands tightly clasped in your lap as your face burns hot.
“good. then let’s start with manual stimulation. handjobs,” jay begins, his tone conversational but his words dripping with a raw, explicit honesty that makes your jaw drop. “it’s not just about gripping and sliding. the anatomy is sensitive. a guy's nerves are concentrated right at the head, especially underneath, on the frenulum. if you just pull the skin up and down dry, it’s uncomfortable. you need friction control. you use lubrication, or even just saliva, and you start with a firm but gentle grip at the base.”
you feel your eyes widening, your brain frantically trying to take mental notes as he speaks. jay doesn't break eye contact; he looks straight at you, using clinical but undeniably dirty language that makes your heart thump in your throat.
“the rhythm is everything,” jay continues smoothly, his voice dropping an octave, turning into a heavy, suffocating purr. “you match his breathing. a slow, steady stroke all the way from the base to the top, and when you reach the head, you twist your thumb gently over the top. it builds the pressure. you don’t speed up until his breath catches. you pay attention to his sounds.”
“o-oh,” you squeak, your hands twisting together. “i… okay. slow rhythm. twist at the top.”
“exactly,” jay says, a faint, amused half-smile touching his lips at your absolute mortification, though his eyes remain heavy and intense. “now, if things go further… oral. blowjobs. this is where most girls panic because they think about their teeth. your teeth should never touch his skin, newbie. you keep your lips curled completely over them. like an anchor.”
you feel like you’re going to spontaneously combust. your cheeks are a catastrophic shade of purple, but you are hanging on every single syllable.
“the technique isn’t just about depth,” jay murmurs, his gaze dropping to your mouth for a heavy, unhurried second before rising back to your eyes. “it’s about suction and warmth. you use the roof of your mouth and your tongue to create a vacuum. you start slow, swirling your tongue around the head before taking him in. and the most important part? the pacing. you don’t just stay at the top; you move down to the base, using one hand to stroke the shaft while your mouth handles the rest. dual stimulation.”
he pauses, leaning forward just a fraction, his voice dropping into a whisper that sends a violent shiver straight down your spine.
“and you never, ever break eye contact,” jay whispers, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a terrifying amount of gravity. “when you’re down there, you look up at him. through your lashes. you let him see exactly what you’re doing to him. it drives a guy absolutely insane, newbie. it completely breaks his control.”
you sit there, completely paralyzed, your chest heaving as you absorb the intense, explicit breakdown. you are utterly mortified, entirely overwhelmed, and your brain is screaming at you that you are supposed to be picturing jake sim during this entire lecture.
but as you look at jay — at the way his jaw tightens, the way his low, gravelly voice sounds saying those explicit words, and the dark, possessive heat hidden deep in his eyes — you realize with a sudden wave of pure terror that jake’s face hasn't crossed your mind even once.
you sit there at the foot of his bed, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently you can hear it in your ears. the explicit details of his words are still hanging heavy in the dim, warm air of the dorm room. your hands are knotted tightly in the fabric of your sweater, your palms slick with a nervous sweat.
you look down at his lap, then back up to his dark, unhurried eyes. the golden shield of your excuse — the lie that this is all a clinical preparation for a future with jake sim — feels incredibly heavy, but it’s the only armor you have left.
"jay," you whisper, your voice cracking slightly. you swallow hard, your face burning a catastrophic shade of crimson as you force the words out. "if... if the rhythm and the grip are that specific... what if i mess it up? what if i'm too rough, or too loose? can you... can you give me another practical example?"
jay’s entire body tenses. the casual, leaning posture against his headboard locks up instantly. his eyes widen just a fraction, his gaze dropping to your trembling hands before snapping back up to look at your face. the heavy, silent tension in room 314 returns with the force of a physical blow.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice rougher and deeper than before. he clears his throat, his knuckles whitening as his hands grip the mattress. "we said strictly theoretical for this. i'm not trying to rush you into anything."
"i'm not rushed," you lie desperately, leaning forward just a fraction, your heart in your throat. "i just... i need to know if i'm doing it right. for the baseline. please, jay."
jay stares at you for three agonizing, breathless seconds. his jaw tightens so hard you can see the muscle tick under his sharp skin. he lets out a long, slow, ragged exhale through his teeth, the restraint he’s been maintaining for weeks visibly fracturing.
"alright," jay murmurs, his tone shifting into a low, gravelly register that vibrates straight through your chest. "come here."
you move on your knees, sliding across the mattress until you're sitting right beside his thigh. your knees are trembling. jay reaches down, his fingers hooking under the hem of his dark trousers, and with a low rustle of fabric, he frees himself.
your breath catches completely. he is already thick, fully erect, and a dark, heavy flush is painting his skin. the pure, raw reality of it makes your mind go entirely blank.
"don't look away," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably steady despite the shallow rise and fall of his chest. "wrap your fingers like this."
he reaches out, his broad, warm hand wrapping around yours to guide it. he positions your fingers at the very base of his shaft, curling them in a firm, even cylinder. his skin feels smooth, white-hot, and pulsing beneath your touch.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his face inches from yours. "stroke up. slow. all the way to the top."
you slowly move your hand upward, the physical friction sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up your arm. your heart is beating in an erratic rhythm against your ribs.
"good. just like that, newbie," jay praises you, a low, breathy rumble in his throat. his eyes crinkle slightly at the corners, a soft, encouraging look melting his usual sharp features. "now, when you hit the head... slower at the top. twist your thumb over the frenulum. exactly like i explained."
you follow his instructions perfectly, slowing the motion, your thumb dragging gently over the ultra-sensitive rim.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sudden, ragged groan, his eyes instantly fluttering shut as his head thumps back against the headboard. the sound is deep, unvarnished, and completely intoxicating. "yes. right there. that's perfect, sweetheart. keep that exact pace."
hearing the pet name slip past his lips makes your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you keep going, your movements becoming smoother, more confident as you fall into the heavy, dragging rhythm. you watch his face, completely fascinated by the raw power you suddenly hold over him.
but as the seconds tick by, the clinical baseline completely disintegrates. the touch is too hot, the friction too intense, and jay’s carefully constructed control begins to dangerously slip.
his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his shirt. his sharp, dark brows furrow in a look that almost resembles pain. he lets out another heavy, broken groan, a sudden, involuntary jerk rippling through his lower half as his hips instinctively thrust upward against the firm pressure of your hand.
"jay," you whisper, completely captivated by the sight of him losing his mind beneath your touch.
"keep going... shit, don't stop," he swears under his breath, his voice rough and completely ungrounded. his hand flies to your wrist, not to pull you away, but to physically lock your hand in place, his fingers squeezing tightly as he takes over the pace, forcing your hand to move faster, harder against him. another ragged, breathy moan escapes his lips, his jaw clenching so tightly his veins stand out against his neck. "you're too good at this... fuck, newbie..."
the sheer, overwhelming heat of the moment fills the quiet room, the sound of his ragged breathing and the soft, slick friction of your hand filling the space between you. you are utterly drowning in him, your thumb tracing the wetness at the tip, your own breathing turning heavy as you lean into his space.
you look up through your lashes, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with a fierce, possessive hunger. and that’s when the old, desperate script in your head panics, trying one last time to pull you back to safety.
"is this… how i should do it for jake?" you whisper, the question slipping out before you can stop it.
jay freezes.
the pleasure on his face vanishes instantly. his hand snaps down, gripping your wrist hard enough to still you completely. his eyes open, sharp and raw.
jay stares down at you, his chest heaving, his lips parted as he absorbs the name. for a second, something painful flashes across his face — hurt, anger, and something deeper. he exhales shakily, then gently but firmly removes your hand from him. the silence that crashes into the room is suffocating.
he reaches down, gently but firmly removing your hand from his skin, and quietly covers himself back up, shifting his weight to sit back against the wall.
the sudden loss of contact leaves your hand feeling cold, your fingers tingling. the blinding wave of embarrassment returns, your cheeks exploding into a furious red flush as you realize what you just said.
“newbie…” he says quietly, voice rough. “don’t do that.”
you feel sick with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean—”
but jay doesn't lash out. he doesn't tease you, and he doesn't bring up the name. instead, he just looks down at your flustered, wide-eyed face, a soft, incredibly gentle expression taking over his sharp features.
"hey," jay murmurs, his voice still low and beautifully rough from the aftereffects of the pleasure. he reaches out, his large, warm hand gently patting the top of your head, his fingers lightly smoothing down your messy hair. "don't look at me like that. you didn't do anything wrong."
you look up at him through your bangs, your heart still thumping softly. "i'm sorry. i shouldn't have..."
"it's fine," jay interrupts softly, a faint, tired but genuinely warm smile touching his lips. his hand slides down from your head to rest gently on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "you're a fast learner, newbie. really fast. you passed the lesson."
he sits there, his hand warm and heavy on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing a slow, comforting circle into your shirt. it’s a soft, lingering moment of aftercare that feels entirely too domestic, entirely too real for a simple tutoring session. and as you look at his gentle smile, your hand still warm from his skin, the lie about jake feels smaller and more pathetic than it ever has before.
-------
when thursday afternoon rolls around, the tension inside your chest is so thick you can barely swallow. the walk to the west quad feels different today; the golden armor of your excuses is getting heavier, cracking, but the raw curiosity burning in your veins is too loud to ignore.
when you knock on the door to room 314, jay opens it almost instantly. he’s wearing a loose, dark gray t-shirt and light gray sweatpants, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead. his eyes immediately lock onto yours, a quiet, intense gravity in his gaze that lets you know he hasn't forgotten a single second of tuesday's handjob lesson either.
"come in, newbie," jay murmurs, stepping aside.
you walk in and immediately sit cross-legged in the center of his unmade bed, your hands tucked between your knees to hide how much they’re shaking. jay closes the door, the heavy click sealing the two of you in the quiet, sandalwood-scented dimness of his room.
he doesn't sit in his desk chair. he walks straight to the edge of the mattress, standing right in front of you, looking down with his hands shoved casually into his sweatpants pockets. "alright. lesson seven. what are we breaking down today?"
you look up at him, your cheeks instantly exploding into a fierce, burning crimson. you swallow hard, your fingers twisting together as you force the words out. "i... i want to learn how to give a blowjob. you explained the theory on tuesday, but... i’ve always been curious about how the actual tongue work and depth feel. i want the practical example, jay."
jay’s entire posture locks up. his eyes darken significantly, a sudden, heavy wave of heat rolling off his body as he stares down at your flushed, determined face. he takes a slow, ragged breath through his nose, his jaw clenching tightly.
"newbie," jay rasps, his voice incredibly deep and rough. "are you absolutely sure about this? once we cross this line, there’s no turning back."
"i'm sure," you whisper, looking him straight in the eye.
jay doesn't say another word. he slowly pulls his hands out of his pockets and sits down on the edge of the bed, right in front of you. with a low, deliberate rustle of fabric, he pushes his sweatpants down, freeing his thick, fully erect length. he is already pulsing, a heavy, dark flush painting his white-hot skin.
"get down on your knees between my legs," jay commands softly, his voice remarkably patient, completely ridden of his usual mocking tone
you slide off the mattress, sinking onto your knees on the hardwood floor right between his thighs. your face is level with his lap, the raw heat of his arousal radiating against your cheeks.
"now, look at me," jay whispers, his large, warm hand rising to gently cup the back of your head, his long fingers tangling into your hair to steady you. "remember what i said. keep your lips curled completely over your teeth. let me feel your tongue first. swirl it right around the head."
you lean in, your hands hesitantly resting on the top of his firm thighs for balance. you slowly extend your tongue, dragging the wet, warm tip in a slow circle around the sensitive rim of his crown.
"oh— fuck," jay lets out a sharp, ragged gasp, his head immediately tossing back, his eyes fluttering shut as a deep shiver ripples through his lower half. his fingers tighten gently in your hair. "yes. just like that, baby. you're so warm, you feel so good."
"now, open up a little more," jay murmurs, his dark eyes snapping open to look down at you, clouded with an intense, suffocating pleasure. "take the top half in. use the roof of your mouth to create a gentle suction. don't rush the depth yet."
you part your lips, curling them firmly over your teeth as he instructed, and slowly slide your mouth over the thick, smooth head of his shaft. the sudden warmth and tightness of your mouth makes jay let out a low, broken moan deep in his chest. you pull back slightly, then slide forward again, your tongue swirling against him with every movement.
"you're doing so good, newbie," jay praises you, his voice a low, breathy rumble right above your head. his hand in your hair is incredibly sweet, gently guiding your rhythm, pacing your movements so you don’t choke. "you're so pretty looking up at me like that. god, you're perfect."
hearing him call you pretty makes a violent, hot flash of adrenaline surge through you. you grow bolder, sliding your mouth a little further down, letting your throat adapt to the thickness. you manage your breathing, taking steady, short inhales through your nose as your mouth works rhythmically against him.
the clinical nature of the lesson completely shatters. jay’s control begins to dangerously fracture under the wet, tight heat of your mouth. his breathing turns shallow and frantic, his chest heaving under his t-shirt as his hips instinctively lift, thrusting a fraction deeper into your mouth with a heavy, unvarnished desperation.
"shit, look at you," jay groans out, a ragged, completely ungrounded swear escaping his lips as his grip on your hair tightens just enough to hold you in place. his eyes are locked onto yours, blazing with a raw, possessive hunger as you look up at him through your lashes. "look at you, sucking me off so good... fuck, sweetheart, you're driving me insane."
the explicit praise sends a jolt of pure electricity straight down your spine. you wrap your right hand around the base of his shaft, sliding it up and down in sync with the heavy suction of your mouth, creating a flawless, dual stimulation that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
jay let out a deep, guttural cry, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck, his hips moving faster, more rapidly against your mouth as he inches closer and closer to the edge.
"hold on— hold on, baby, stop," jay suddenly rasps, his breathing completely shattered. he gently but firmly pulls your head back by your hair, his chest heaving as he draws a long, shaky breath.
you blink up at him, your lips wet and flushed a deep red, your heart thumping violently. jay stares down at your face, his eyes incredibly heavy, full of a fierce, protective softness that completely melts his sharp features.
slowly, he reaches down, his thumb gently wiping away a drop of moisture from the corner of your mouth. a faint, breathless, and incredibly tender smile on his lips.
"you're a genius, newbie," jay whispers, his voice beautifully rough as he lightly taps your cheek. "lesson concluded. you're officially too good for this campus."
-------
when you arrive for the next lesson, the atmospheric pressure inside room 314 feels entirely different. the standard conversational buffer — the casual banter about classes, the lingering ghost of a mention of jake — is completely gone. when jay opens the door, he doesn’t say his usual witty greeting. he just looks at you, his dark eyes heavy and remarkably soft, and reaches down to gently take your bag from your hand, setting it by the desk.
"hey," he murmurs, his voice dropping into that low, gravelly timbre that instantly makes your pulse flutter.
"hey," you whisper back.
he closes the door with a quiet, deliberate click, locking it before turning back to you. he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to his broad shoulders, and his hair is a little messy, falling perfectly over his forehead. he doesn't wait for you to sit on the edge of the mattress; instead, he takes your hand, his long, warm fingers sliding effortlessly between yours, and guides you to the middle of the bed.
"we've spent a lot of time breaking down what makes a guy lose his mind," jay says softly, sitting down right in front of you, his knees brushing against your thighs. his free hand reaches up, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw, tilting your face up so you're forced to look directly into his eyes. "but that's only half the mechanics, newbie. you need to know what feels good for you, too. you need to know how your body reacts when someone is completely focused on you."
your breath catches, a fierce, sudden heat blooming across your chest. "jay..."
"i'm going to go slow, okay?" he interrupts gently, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners with a reassuring, incredibly tender smile. "no rushing. i'm going to teach you exactly how you're supposed to be touched."
he leans forward, his lips pressing softly against your forehead, then your temple, before trailing down to the sensitive column of your neck. a violent, delicious shiver ripples through your entire body as he kisses his way back up to your jawline, his lips warm and unhurried.
"lay down for me, sweetheart," jay whispers against your skin, his hands moving to your waist to gently guide you back onto the pillows.
you slide down, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs as jay shifts, hovering over you, supported by his elbows on either side of your head. his gaze rakes over your flushed face, his expression so fiercely loving and sweet it makes your chest ache. he reaches down, his large, warm hand sliding under the hem of your top, his palm resting flat against the bare skin of your stomach. you let out a soft, sharp inhale at the sudden friction.
"just breathe," jay praises you, his voice a soft, comforting rumble as his fingers trail lower, gently nudging the waistband of your shorts. "let me do the work."
slowly, deliberately, he eases your clothes down, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs to the dim, warm air of the room. you instinctively try to pull your knees together, a sudden wave of shyness hitting you, but jay gently presses them apart, sliding his body between your legs to anchor you. he doesn't look away; his eyes stay locked onto yours as his fingers softly brush against the inner skin of your thigh, moving upward with agonizingly slow, light strokes.
"you are so beautiful, newbie," he murmurs, leaning down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting you fully before trailing his mouth down to your collarbone. "so pretty for me."
when his hand finally reaches the center of your heat, you let out a breathless, broken gasp, your fingers instantly clutching at the fabric of his t-shirt. his fingers are warm, incredibly gentle as they find the small, sensitive bundle of nerves. he starts with light, circular motions, his thumb sliding over the slick skin with a practiced, effortless rhythm.
"there you go," jay whispers against your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he tracks the sudden, erratic hitch in your breathing. "feel that? that's the baseline. you just stay relaxed, let the heat build."
he introduces a single finger, sliding it slowly into your tight, wet heat. a soft, helpless moan escapes your throat, your hips instinctively lifting against his hand. jay lets out a low, rough hum of absolute approval deep in his chest, his finger moving in a slow, curling motion that targets a deep, heavy ache you didn't even know was there.
"look at me, sweetheart," he commands softly. you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of it, to find him staring down at you with an unvarnished, consuming intensity. "you're doing so good. you're so wet for me."
he continues the rhythm, his fingers moving inside you with a steady, heavy pace while his thumb keeps a relentless, agonizingly perfect pressure on your core. you feel the tension building rapidly, a hot, tight knot coiling tightly in your lower stomach. your hands tangle deep into his dark hair, pulling him closer as your breathing turns shallow and desperate.
"jay... jay," you whimpered, completely ungrounded by the overwhelming sensation.
"i've got you," he murmurs sweetly, kissing away the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. he pulls his hand away for just a fraction of a second, making you let out a needy whine, before he shifts his body lower on the mattress.
he presses your knees open wider, his hands firmly gripping the undersides of your thighs to steady you. you look down through your lashes, your face burning a furious purple as jay leans his head down, his mouth replacing his fingers.
the first touch of his wet, warm tongue against your sensitive core makes your entire body arch off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room. jay's hands tighten on your thighs, anchoring you completely as his tongue sweeps upward in long, firm strokes, applying a heavy, steady suction that sends a violent, electric current straight down your spine.
"oh my god," you sob out, your fingers desperately clutching at the bedsheets as the coiling tension inside you completely snaps.
jay doesn't stop. he works through your release, his tongue moving in a relentless, beautifully deep rhythm, drinking you in as your body trembles and shakes beneath him. he holds you steady through the intense waves, his mouth warm and unbelievably patient against your sensitive skin until the final tremors slowly begin to fade.
when he finally slides back up the mattress, his face is flushed, his dark eyes shining with a deep, triumphant softness. he pulls the blankets up over your shivering shoulders, immediately wrapping his broad arms around you and pulling your back flush against his chest in a tight, protective embrace.
he leans down, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your warm neck.
"you did so perfect, newbie," jay whispers into your hair, his voice rough and beautifully thick as his large hand rests over your heart, feeling it hammer a frantic pace against his palm. "absolutely perfect."
the cool night air hits your face the moment you step out of the west quad, but it does absolutely nothing to cool the raging, white-hot fire burning beneath your skin. your limbs feel heavy, almost liquid, and every step you take on the concrete sidewalk feels strangely disconnected from reality.
the guilt catches up to you by the time you reach the campus quad. it settles into your stomach like a block of lead, heavy and suffocating.
you just had sex with jay park.
well, not full intercourse, but it was sexual. it was intimate. he touched you, he put his mouth on you, he held you through the most intense physical release of your life, and he wrapped his arms around you like you belonged to him. the raw, unvarnished memory of his wet tongue, his whispers of "sweetheart," and the protective warmth of his chest pressed against your back makes a violent shudder get to your core.
it's for jake, your brain screams, a frantic, high-pitched panic echoing in your head as you grip the straps of your tote bag until your knuckles turn white. the reason why you're doing this is for improving for jake. you're a newbie. you needed to know what a release felt like so you don't panic or freeze up when jake finally takes you to his bed. jay is just the instructor. he's a textbook. he has nothing to do with this.
but deep inside, in a dark, quiet corner of your soul that you are desperately trying to block out, you know it's a lie. you know text modules and posture corrections don't involve a guy worshiping your body until you're sobbing his name into his pillows.
still, you really try to convince yourself. you force the golden shield back into place, cementing the lie with sheer, stubborn willpower as you unlock the door to your apartment. yunjin's bedroom door is closed, the apartment blissfully dark. you tip-toe straight into your room, lock the door behind you, and collapse onto your bed without even changing out of your clothes.
the bed feels too big, too cold, and your skin is still tingling, practically begging for the touch that was just stripped away from it.
fine, you think desperately, staring up at the shadows on your ceiling. if it's for jake, prove it. fantasize about him.
your hands shake as you slide them down the denim of your shorts, slipping past the waistband to touch the lingering, hypersensitive heat between your thighs. you close your eyes tightly, forcing jake's face into your mind's eye. you picture the sweet way he ruffles your hair, the little Italian restaurant with the string lights, the gentle way he holds your hand across the table.
you start to move your fingers, replicating the exact circular rhythm jay had used on you just an hour ago. a soft, needy gasp escapes your lips into the quiet room. the heat builds rapidly, your body already primed and ready to boil over.
it's jake, you tell yourself, your breathing turning hurried as you pick up the pace. imagine jake doing this to you. imagine jake hovering over you in the dark.
you lean into the fantasy, letting the tight, coiling knot in your stomach take over. you bite your lip hard, letting your brain go insane — imagining the pretty sounds he’d make, mouth open in a slight “o” as his brows furrow, hair falling down, almost reaching that pretty nose adorned with the scar you love to feel between your—
wait.
jake doesn’t have a nose scar.
that’s jay.
your fingers freeze.
the world inside your bedroom completely grinds to a halt. you stare blankly at the dark ceiling, your hand slipping out from your shorts as if your skin had suddenly turned to ice. your heart is hammering, but it’s not from the pleasure anymore; it’s from pure, unadulterated terror.
you just pictured jay.
you were touching yourself, trying to build a future with the boy you’ve liked for months, and your brain completely bypassed him to conjure the exact, devastating image of jay park’s sharp jaw, his furrowed brows, and that tiny, pale scar cutting right across the bridge of his aristocratic nose.
a suffocating wave of reality hits you. it isn't jake. it has never been jake. not since you walked into room 314.
the next morning, the guilt is a physical sickness in your throat. you can’t look at your phone. when jake texts you a picture of a golden retriever he saw on his walk, you reply with a short, polite emoji, your stomach twisting into knots. you are entirely, completely compromised.
by monday afternoon, you know what you have to do. you can't keep going to room 314. if you walk back into that room, if you let him put his hands on your waist one more time, you will never be able to look jake sim in the eye again. you will lose the entire script.
with shaking thumbs, you open your chat with jay.
you: hey jay. i think we should stop the lessons. i think i have everything i need now. thank you for everything.
you hit send and immediately flip your phone face-down on your duvet, burying your face in your hands. you expect him to reply with his usual lazy, arrogant ‘sure thing, newbie’. you expect him to be relieved that his tutoring duties are officially over.
but three minutes later, your phone buzzes. then it buzzes again. and again.
jay: what do you mean? jay: did something happen? jay: newbie answer your phone. if i did something on thursday to make you uncomfortable you need to tell me. i told you we could go at your pace. did i pressure you?
the sheer, frantic panic in his messages makes your throat tighten. the cool, unbothered, perfectly composed jay park is completely gone, replaced by someone who sounds genuinely, deeply terrified that he hurt you.
you bite your lip, a stray tear slipping down your cheek as you type back.
you: no! no, jay, you didn't do anything wrong at all. you were perfect. it's just... things are getting serious with jake. he asked me out again this weekend. and since jake was the original purpose of the whole thing... i need to focus on him now. i have to be fair to him.
you watch the screen. the three little typing dots appear almost instantly. then they disappear. then they appear again. the silence stretching between your apartments feels agonizing.
finally, the phone buzzes one last time.
jay: right. the original purpose. jay: i get it. good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.
the text is so clinical, so brief, it feels like a physical slap. he doesn't fight it. he doesn't tease you. he just steps back into the box of the "instructor," closing the lid firmly behind him.
-------
the rest of the week passes in a gray, heavy blur. you don't go to the west quad. you take the long way around the library just so you don't have to risk seeing his tall silhouette walking past the glass windows.
friday night arrives, and you're sitting at the vanity in your bedroom, curling your hair for your second official date with jake. yunjin is leaning against your doorframe, watching you with a slight, curious frown.
"you're quiet today," yunjin notes, crossing her arms. "usually before a jake date you're bouncing off the walls. didn't your theoretical lessons with jay give you a confidence boost?"
"they did," you lie softly, your eyes fixed on your reflection. "i'm just... focused."
"well, jay's been acting weird too," yunjin shrugs, turning back toward the living room. "saw him at the student union yesterday. he looked like he hadn't slept in four days. completely tuned out."
your grip on the curling iron tightens so hard your palm aches. he's fine, you tell yourself desperately. he's jay park. he's glad to have his bed back to himself.
an hour later, you're sitting across from jake at a trendy, low-lit taco place downtown. the restaurant is loud, music bouncing off the brick walls. jake is looking at you with that sweet, boyish grin, talking animatedly about his soccer coach's ridiculous training schedule.
he's perfect. he's everything you wanted.
but as the noise of the restaurant swells, jake leans across the small wooden table, his face closing the distance to say something over the music. your brain immediately fires a memory — the heavy weight of jay's chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his low voice whispering 'we're in a quiet room, stop playing games with me.'
"hey," jake says, his hand reaching out to lightly tap your wrist. "you there? you looked like you were a million miles away."
"i'm here," you say, forcing a bright, sweet smile onto your face. "sorry, just listening."
when the date ends, jake walks you all the way back to your apartment building. the air on the porch is cool, the dim amber light of the streetlamp casting long shadows over the brick steps. it's the exact setup from a week ago. the final act.
jake stands close, his dark eyes looking down at you with a soft, undeniable affection. he reaches out, his fingers gently tucking a stray curl behind your ear. his hand is nice. it's sweet.
"i had a really great time tonight," jake whispers, leaning in slowly.
your heart spikes, your body automatically going rigid as you realize it’s happening. this is it. the practical application. jake tilts his head, his eyes dropping to your mouth before closing as he bridges the final inch.
his lips press against yours.
it is a perfectly nice kiss. it's gentle, polite, and safe. but as jake's mouth moves against yours, your brain does absolutely nothing. there is no white-hot rush of electricity. there is no heavy, suffocating gravity pulling at your soul. your hands stay flat against your sides, entirely lacking the desperate urge to slide beneath his shirt, to grip his broad shoulders, to tangle into his hair.
jake pulls back after a few seconds, a sweet, satisfied smile on his face. "goodnight," he murmurs, ruffling your hair gently before turning to walk down the steps.
you stand on the porch in the quiet night air, staring at his retreating back. your lips feel completely cold. your skin feels entirely empty. and as you turn the key in your apartment lock, a crushing, definitive truth finally breaks through the last of your defenses.
the lessons didn't prepare you for jake sim. they ruined you for anyone who isn't jay park.
-------
you keep trying.
you really, truly do. you go on a third date with jake to an indie movie theater, and a fourth date where he cooks dinner for you at his apartment. he is everything a boyfriend should be — attentive, sweet, incredibly handsome, and completely respectful. but every time he holds your hand, your fingers feel numb. every time he leans down to kiss you goodnight on your porch, your mind is a completely flat, silent room.
there are no shivers. there is no gravelly voice whispering “breathe, newbie” against your skin. there is no heavy, intoxicating scent of sandalwood.
you are physically with jake sim, but you are entirely haunted by jay park.
you miss him. you miss him so much it feels like a physical ache in the center of your chest. you miss the arrogant, lazy smirks that you eventually learned how to kiss right off his face. you miss the way his large, warm hands felt sliding underneath your sweater. you miss the breathless, quiet aftercare where he would just stroke your hair and tell you you did perfect.
you haven't received a single text from him in two weeks. your chat history sits at the bottom of your messages, a cold, clinical reminder of "the original purpose."
then comes tuesday afternoon.
you’re sitting on the living room rug of your apartment, your knees pulled to your chest as you stare blankly at a textbook you haven't actually read a page of in thirty minutes. yunjin is sitting on the couch right behind you, painting her toenails a vibrant shade of cherry red.
the apartment is completely quiet except for the rhythmic swipe, swipe of her nail brush.
"hey," yunjin speaks up suddenly, not looking up from her pinky toe. "so, i ran into jake at the gym earlier today."
your shoulders instantly tighten. "oh. yeah?"
"yeah. he was glowing, honestly," yunjin says, finally capping the nail polish and leaning back against the cushions. she looks down at the top of your head, her sharp eyes narrowing in a familiar, hyper-observant squint. "he said things are going amazingly with you. he literally told me you're the most perfect, sweet girl he’s ever met."
you let out a tiny, hollow sound that is supposed to be a laugh, but it sounds incredibly sad. "that's... nice."
"so..." yunjin trails off, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. her voice drops into a lighter, teasing tone. "come on. spill. how are the advanced lessons going? did jay's theoretical tutoring actually work? did he give you the magic playbook or what?"
at the mention of his name, something inside you completely snaps.
the two weeks of suffocating guilt, the crushing weight of the lies, the phantom feeling of jay's mouth on yours, and the sheer, exhausting misery of pretending to be happy with jake all come crashing down at once. your eyes suddenly sting with hot, angry tears, and a shaky, broken sob escapes your throat before you can even think to mask it.
yunjin freezes. her jaw practically drops to the floor as she watches your shoulders violently shake, your face burying themselves into your knees.
"wait— oh my god, hey," yunjin stammers, instantly sliding off the couch and dropping to the rug beside you. she wraps a panicked arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "what's wrong? did jake do something? did he hurt you? i will literally fight him right now—"
"no!" you sob out, your voice muffled and thick with tears as you shake your head against your knees. "no, jake didn't do anything! jake is perfect! he's so sweet!"
"then why are you crying like someone died?" yunjin asks, completely bewildered, her hand rubbing your back in a comforting motion. "if jake is perfect, what's wrong?"
you lift your head, your face a catastrophic, tear-stained shade of purple, your chest heaving as you look at your best friend.
"it's jay," you choke out, the truth finally tearing its way out of your chest.
yunjin blinks, her eyebrows furrowing in deep confusion. "jay? jay park? what does he have to do with you crying about jake?"
"the lessons," you whisper, a fresh wave of tears spilling over your lashes. "they... they weren't theoretical, yunjin. i lied to you. i lied to everyone."
yunjin’s entire body goes completely still. her grip on your shoulder tightens as she stares at you, the dots in her highly perceptive brain suddenly trying to connect a picture she never expected to see. "what do you mean they weren't theoretical?"
"we... we did a practical lesson, a lot of them, actually," you confess, your voice cracking with pure, unadulterated embarrassment, but the relief of finally saying it out loud is a physical weight lifting off your lungs. "the first few weeks were just talking, but then... when he was telling me how to kiss someone correctly, i panicked because i thought i'd be bad at kissing jake. so i asked jay for a real example. and he kissed me."
yunjin’s eyes widen to the size of literal dinner saucers. "jay kissed you?"
"yes," you whine, covering your face with your hands. "and then it happened again. and again. and then we started meeting almost every single day. we weren't even studying anymore, yunjin. i would sit on his lap for a whole hour and we just made out on and on. and then last week... we... we did some more things, and he showed me what felt good for me, too. with his hands, and his— his mouth."
yunjin lets out a sharp, breathless gasp, her hand flying over her mouth. she looks completely, utterly flabbergasted, her jaw practically unhinged. "oh my god. oh my god. you and jay... you guys were sleeping together?"
"not all the way! but yes!" you cry out, pulling your hands away from your face, looking at her desperately. "and the whole time, i kept telling myself it was for jake. i kept saying 'oh, i'm just a newbie getting hands-on experience so i can be good for jake'. i even tried to touch myself thinking about jake afterwards, but yunjin... when i closed my eyes, all i could see was jay. i saw his face, and his hair, and his nose scar."
yunjin is staring at you like you’ve just spoken to her in a foreign language. she is completely speechless, processing the absolute bombshell you just dropped into her living room.
"so... so i stopped the lessons, everything," you whisper, your voice dropping to a broken, miserable murmur as you look down at your lap. "i texted him and told him i had to focus on jake. and he just said okay. and now i'm going on these dates with jake, and he's so nice, yunjin, he really is... but i… don't feel anything. when jake kisses me, it's just... cold. i don't want jake to touch me. i just want jay. i miss him so much it hurts, and i'm a horrible person because i used him as a textbook and now i've completely ruined everything."
you bury your face back in your hands, your shoulders shaking as you let the final wave of tears take over, waiting for yunjin to lecture you, to tell you how reckless you were, or to tell you how completely messy this entire situation is.
instead, yunjin lets out a long, slow, and incredibly deep exhale. she reaches out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, forcing you to look at her. the initial shock on her face has melted away, replaced by a look of sheer, unbelievable realization.
"my love," yunjin says slowly, her voice completely serious. "are you actually an idiot?"
you blink through your tears, sniffing. "what?"
"you think you used jay park?" yunjin asks, letting out a wild, disbelieving laugh. "are we talking about the same jay park? the guy who has half the girls on the humanities campus begging for a text back? the guy who doesn't let anyone into his personal space, let alone his dorm room?"
you wipe your eyes with the back of your sleeve, confused. "but... it was a casual thing. he was just being a good instructor..."
"oh my god, you are a literal child," yunjin groans, throwing her hands up in the air. "listen to me. jay fucking park did not give you a 'practical lesson' because he cares about your future with jake sim. he did not spend an hour letting you straddle his lap and eat his face because he’s a dedicated tutor. he did those things because he is completely, utterly obsessed with you, you absolute moron!"
the conversation with yunjin stays ringing in your ears for the rest of the week, a loud, echoing truth that makes your chest feel completely hollow. he is completely, utterly obsessed with you. you want to believe it. god, you want to believe it so bad, but the memory of his final text — ‘good luck this weekend, newbie. drive him crazy.’ — stands like a massive brick wall between you and room 314.
and then, jake texts you.
it’s not a casual, low-effort ‘grab coffee?’ or a late-night invite to watch him play soccer. he sends a long, beautifully constructed message, asking you on a proper, official date to a high-end jazz lounge downtown that requires a reservation weeks in advance. he tells you he’s been noticing your new confidence lately — the way you hold yourself, the lingering eye contact, the ease in your posture — and that he likes you. a lot. he wants to make things official.
a month ago, a text like that would have made you collapse onto your bedroom floor in pure, unadulterated ecstasy. it was the ultimate finish line. the exact gold medal you had been sweating and crying for under jay's brutal, meticulous guidance.
so, you say yes. you force yourself to put on your prettiest dress, you spend an hour doing your makeup, and you walk down the steps of your building to meet jake’s car.
the jazz lounge is beautiful. the dim, amber lighting reflects off the polished mahogany tables, the music is soft and smooth, and jake looks incredibly handsome in a dark blazer. he handles the evening perfectly. he pulls out your chair, he orders the best wine on the menu, and he looks at you with a heavy, sweet admiration that makes your cheeks warm.
"you look absolutely stunning tonight," jake murmurs, reaching across the white tablecloth to gently squeeze your fingers. "honestly, i feel like a different girl walked down the steps today. you've always been gorgeous, but lately... there's just something about you. you're so captivating."
you force a soft smile, nodding your head. "thank you, jake. that's... really sweet."
but as his fingers linger on yours, the crushing reality of the evening finally settles over you.
it’s nice. it’s objectively perfect. but it feels completely, utterly empty.
you sit there, listening to the saxophone player on the stage, and you find yourself looking at the way jake laughs. it’s a nice laugh, but it doesn't make your stomach do a violent, hot flip. you look at his hands, and you realize you don't have the slightest urge to slip your fingers beneath his cuffs. you look at his lips, and the thought of his mouth on yours doesn't make your breath catch.
and in that exact, agonizing moment, the grand illusion you've been clinging to for weeks finally shatters into a million jagged pieces.
you aren't projecting. you aren't using jay as a proxy.
you are deeply, completely, and irrevocably in love with park jay.
the realization hits you with the force of a physical blow, making your breath leave your lungs in a sharp, silent gasp. it isn't just about the mechanics or the white-hot heat of his mattress. it’s the way his dark eyes soften into a fierce, protective warmth whenever you look up at him through your lashes. it’s the patient, steady way he guides you when you panic, never pushing, always making sure you feel safe. it’s the quiet, breathless aftercare where he brushes the hair from your forehead, calling you sweetheart in a voice so thick and honest it makes your soul ache. it’s the easy, effortless way you laugh together between the heavy tension, the real, undeniable connection that you built brick by brick in that small, sandalwood-scented dorm room.
jay didn't teach you how to love jake sim. jay taught you how to love him.
"hey," jake's voice breaks through your thoughts, his brow furrowing with genuine concern as he leans in closer. "are you okay? you're really pale suddenly."
you look at jake — at his kind, sweet face — and you realize that staying here, pretending to be the girl he wants, is the cruelest thing you could possibly do to him. you can't live a lie anymore. the script is over.
"jake," you whisper, your voice trembling as you gently pull your hand back from his grip. "i'm... i'm so sorry. i can't do this."
jake blinks, completely caught off guard. "what? did i say something wrong?"
"no, you're perfect," you say, a tear finally spilling over your lashes as you grab your purse from the back of the chair. "you are absolutely wonderful, jake, i swear. but... my heart is somewhere else. it’s been somewhere else for a long time, and it’s not fair to keep dragging you into it. i’m so, so sorry."
before he can even process the words, you stand up from the table and walk — almost run — straight out of the jazz lounge, leaving the music behind you.
the moment you hit the cool night air of the sidewalk, you don't call a cab. you don't go back to your apartment to cry to yunjin. you sprint.
your heels click loudly against the concrete as you rush toward the west quad, your lungs burning, your heart hammering a desperate, terrifying rhythm against your ribs. the wind completely ruins your curled hair, and your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, but you don't care. the only thing that matters is the distance between you and room 314, and you need to eliminate it right now.
you burst through the heavy glass doors of his building, practically flying up the stairs three at a time because the elevator is too slow, too claustrophobic for the sudden, desperate panic roaring through your veins.
you reach the third floor, your chest heaving as you run down the carpeted hallway until you're standing directly in front of his heavy wooden door.
you don't wait to compose yourself. you don't brace your shoulders or try to be normal. you lift your shaking hand and knock against the wood, loudly, your whole body trembling in the quiet corridor.
the heavy wooden door swings open almost immediately, the sudden movement revealing jay standing in the entryway. he’s wearing an oversized black hoodie and matching sweatpants, his dark hair messy as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly.
the second his dark eyes lock onto you, he freezes. his gaze sweeps over your ruined curls, the formal dress you’re wearing, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and the fresh tears spilling over your cheeks.
"newbie?" jay rasps, his voice completely stripping of its usual calm, unbothered composure. he steps forward, his hands instantly coming up to hover near your shoulders, completely shocked. "what— what are you doing here? why are you crying? did something happen with jake? did he hurt you? i swear to god i'll kill—"
"i'm in love with you," you blurts out, the words tearing out of your throat in a shaky, breathless sob before he can even finish his sentence.
jay stops dead in his tracks. his hands freeze in mid-air, his jaw dropping open just a fraction as his entire body goes completely rigid. the quiet corridor feels extremely silent, the heavy weight of your words hanging in the space between you.
"i'm in love with you," you repeat, a fresh wave of hot tears blurring your vision as you look up at his face. you feel incredibly shy, completely stripped of your armor, your voice dropping to a small, trembling whisper. "i went on the date with jake. he was perfect, jay. he took me to that jazz lounge, and he held my hand, and he told me i was beautiful... but it felt completely empty. i didn't want him to touch me. i didn't want him to kiss me. because the whole time, the only person i could think about was you. i thought about how you look at me, and how safe i feel when you hold me, and... and i realized i've been lying to myself for weeks. i don't want jake. i want you. i've always wanted you."
jay stares down at you, his expression completely blank for three long, agonizing seconds. you feel a sudden, terrifying wave of panic hit your stomach, convinced you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
then, jay’s shoulders start to shake.
he drops his head back, a sudden, sharp bark of laughter escaping his lips. he keeps laughing, a breathless, rough sound that makes your heart sink into your shoes. he’s laughing at me, you think completely mortified, stepping back a fraction. yunjin was wrong, he thinks i'm pathetic—
before you can even take a full step away, jay moves.
his large hands shoot forward, wrapping securely around your waist, and with one heavy, desperate pull, he yanks you forward into his dorm room. the door slams shut behind you with a loud, final click, and suddenly, you are crushed completely against his broad chest.
jay wraps his strong arms around you, burying his face deep into the crook of your neck, holding you so tight it’s almost bruising. you can feel the heavy, erratic thumping of his heart against your ribs, his whole body trembling slightly as he holds you like you’re about to disappear.
"jay?" you squeak out, your hands hesitantly coming up to clutch at the thick fabric of his black hoodie.
"i'm not laughing at you, newbie," jay murmurs against your skin, his voice thick, ragged, and completely devoid of his usual arrogance. he lets out another low, disbelieving chuckle right into your hair, his grip tightening. "i'm just... i'm in complete disbelief. i can't believe you're actually standing here saying this to me."
he slowly draws his head back, keeping his large hands firmly anchored on your waist so you can't move away. his dark eyes are incredibly heavy, looking down at your tear-stained face with a raw, consuming tenderness that completely melts your heart.
"you are such a moron," jay whispers, a soft, beautiful smile finally breaking across his sharp features. "you really thought this was all just a clinical lesson for me? you think i let you straddle my lap for a whole hour because i'm a dedicated tutor?"
you sniff, looking up at him through your lashes. "yunjin said..."
"yunjin was right," jay interrupts softly, his thumb rising to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek, his touch unbelievably sweet. "i’ve liked you for weeks, sweetheart. even a month, probably. do you have any idea what it was like for me to sit in that chair and listen to you ramble on about jake sim every single week? i hated it. i hated every single time his name left your mouth. i wanted to throw him across the campus every time you showed me a text from him."
you blink, your heart spiking. "then why didn't you say anything?"
"because i was terrified," jay admits honestly, his jaw clenching slightly as his dark eyes lock onto yours. "you came to me so innocent, so focused on this dream you had of being with him. i was so scared that if i told you how i felt, i would pressure you. i was scared i'd ruin your confidence, or make you feel trapped in the lessons. i didn't want to hurt your feelings. so when you texted me on monday saying you were done..."
he pauses, his breathing turning shallow as he leans his forehead lightly against yours, his hot breath fanning across your lips.
"i was resigned," he whispers, his voice dropping to a gravelly, vulnerable register. "i decided to just let you go to him. i thought, if jake makes her happy, i'll just step back and let her have her perfect boyfriend. it almost killed me, newbie. i haven't slept a full hour since monday."
hearing his confession makes your chest ache with a sudden, overwhelming wave of love. you lift your hands, your fingers tangling deep into the soft, dark hair at the back of his neck, pulling him that final, microscopic inch closer.
"you don't have to let me go," you whisper directly against his lips. "i'm right here."
"yeah," jay murmurs, his dark eyes flashing with that familiar, possessive heat right before his mouth crashes onto yours. "you're right here."
the weight of his confession still hangs in the air of his room, but the heavy emotional armor you’ve both been wearing for weeks has completely shattered. your fingers are knotted so tightly in the dark hair at the back of his neck that your knuckles ache, your body pulling flush against his broad chest until there is absolutely no space left between you.
jay doesn't give you a single second to breathe. the moment your lips touch, the familiar, intoxicating taste of him rushes over you, but this time, the desperate restraint he had been clinging to during the "lessons" is completely gone. his mouth crashes into yours with a raw, possessive hunger that makes your knees instantly turn to water. it isn't a demonstration. it isn't a baseline. it is a fierce, consuming claim that leaves you both dizzy.
"jay," you gasp against his lips, a soft, helpless sound escaping your throat as his mouth slides hungrily down your jawline, his teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin right beneath your ear.
"i've got you," jay rasps, his voice an incredibly deep, gravelly vibration against your neck. "i've got you, sweetheart. you're not going anywhere."
his large hands slide down from your waist, his broad palms gripping the undersides of your thighs with a sudden, bruising force. with one effortless, powerful lift, jay hoists you completely off the ground. you let out a sharp gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carries you the three short steps over to his bed, collapsing both of you onto the unmade blankets.
the impact is soft, but the physical heat between you is instantly blinding. jay hovers directly over you, his heavy frame anchoring you to the mattress, his dark hair falling messy across his forehead as he looks down at your flushed, breathless face. his eyes are darker than you’ve ever seen them, blazing with a fierce, protective intensity that makes your heart thump wildly against your ribs.
"look at you," jay whispers, his chest heaving under his black hoodie as his thumb traces the swollen, red curve of your bottom lip. "you're actually here. in my bed. telling me you want me."
"i do," you breathe out, your hands sliding beneath the hem of his hoodie to press your bare palms flat against the warm, defined muscles of his lower back. "i want you so bad, jay."
a low, ragged growl catches in his throat at the touch of your bare skin. he leans back down, his mouth devouring yours in a deep, wet, frantic rhythm that completely shatters the last of your control. his tongue slides possessively over yours, guiding your mouth to open wider, drinking in every single soft, broken moan you make.
the physical friction escalates instantly. jay shifts his weight, his heavy hips settling right between your thighs, the thick, rigid length of his arousal pressing hard through his sweatpants directly against your core. your dress is hiked up around your waist, leaving only the thin fabric of your underwear between your bodies. instinctively, a desperate, white-hot hunger takes over your body, and your hips tilt upward, a slow, heavy grind against his lap as you chase the unbearable pressure.
"fuck," jay groans directly into your mouth, his eyes flying shut as his entire body goes completely rigid at the sudden friction. his hands move to your hips, his long fingers digging into your skin to hold you still, but the desperate, needy roll of your pelvis makes a rough, unvarnished swear escape his lips. "newbie... shit, hold on. you're going to break me."
"no," you whine, your hands slipping out from his hoodie to clutch tightly at his broad shoulders, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him through your lashes. "don't stop, jay. please. i've been thinking about this for weeks."
the admission completely breaks his remaining restraint. jay lets out a sharp, ragged exhale and lets his hips move, matching your upward tilts with a heavy, rhythmic grind of his own. the dry humping is agonizingly perfect, the thick, hard pressure of his length rubbing relentlessly against your hyper-sensitive core through the fabric of his clothes. every single slide makes your head spin, your fingers digging deep into the soft cotton of his hoodie as you arch your back off the mattress, a loud, unvarnished cry echoing through the quiet room.
"yes, just like that," jay murmurs, his voice a ragged, breathless rasp as he buries his face back in your neck, his lips pressing a trail of burning, wet kisses along your collarbone. "let me feel you. god, you're so hot, sweetheart. you feel so fucking good."
he shifts the angle of his hips, grinding harder, deeper, targeting the exact spot that makes your whole body tremble. you lose all track of time, completely drowning in the suffocating heat of his body, the rough friction between your thighs, and the intoxicating, raw intimacy of hearing him lose his mind beneath your touch. his chest is heaving violently against yours, his breathing shallow and rough as his hips thrust down in a fast, desperate rhythm that brings you both dangerously close to the edge.
"jay," you sob out, your head tossing back against the pillows, your core weeping with a desperate, heavy ache that dry humping can no longer satisfy. "jay, please. i don't want the clothes anymore. i want to feel you. really feel you."
jay stops his movement instantly. he draws back, his chest rising and falling in deep, ragged gasps as he looks down at you. his face is flushed, his eyes clouded with a fierce, overwhelming hunger, but beneath the passion, that deep, protective tenderness returns with a beautiful clarity.
"newbie," he whispers, his hands gently framing your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears from your cheeks. "are you sure? your first time... i want it to be perfect for you. i don't want to rush this."
"i'm sure," you say, your voice remarkably steady despite the anxious beating of your heart. you look straight into his dark eyes, your fingers rising to gently trace the tiny pale scar on his nose that had given the lie away. "i love you, jay. i want it to be you. teach me the rest."
a profound, heavy silence settles over the room, the raw emotion of your words melting away the last remnants of the old "lessons." this isn't an educational baseline anymore. this is a confession, a complete surrender, and jay handles it with a reverence that makes your eyes sting with happy tears.
"okay," jay whispers, his voice dropping into a soft, beautifully thick register. "okay, sweetheart."
slowly, deliberately, he sits back on his heels. his large, warm hands move to the hem of your dress, gently and carefully sliding the fabric up over your hips, your waist, and over your head, tossing it onto the floor. his eyes track the movement, his gaze raking over your exposed skin with an unvarnished, breathless admiration that makes you feel completely worshiped. he reaches down, his long fingers hooking into the sides of your underwear, easing them down your legs until you are completely bare beneath him.
"you are so beautiful," jay murmurs, his voice shaking slightly as he leans down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your bare stomach. "absolutely perfect."
he stands up briefly, pulling the black hoodie over his head and kicking his sweatpants away, revealing his broad, heavily defined chest and the thick, white-hot length of his arousal. when he slides back onto the mattress, the sheer, raw heat of his naked skin making contact with yours sends a violent shock of adrenaline through your veins.
he hovers over you again, but this time, he doesn't immediately move to progress things. he takes his time. his large, warm hand slides down your side, his palm resting flat against your hip as he gently coaxes your knees apart, sliding his body between your thighs. he leans down, his mouth sealing over yours in a slow, agonizingly sweet kiss that tastes of absolute devotion. his fingers slide down, finding the slick, dripping heat between your legs, and he uses two fingers to slowly stroke your core, priming you, making sure you are completely prepared for him.
"relax for me," jay whispers against your lips, his thumb applying a steady, heavy pressure that makes your hips instinctively lift. "i'm going to go so slow, sweetheart. if it hurts, you tell me to stop. understand?"
"i understand," you whimper, your fingers tangling into his dark hair, pulling his face down so you can kiss him again.
jay pulls his hand away, the sudden loss of contact making you let out a needy whine, but then you feel the heavy, smooth head of his shaft aligning directly against your tight, wet opening. the sheer thickness of him makes your breath hitch, your hands instantly clutching at the firm muscles of his shoulders.
"look at me," jay commands softly, his voice a low, gravelly purr.
you blink your eyes open, your vision slightly blurry from the sheer intensity of the moment, to find him staring down at you with a consuming, fierce possessiveness. his dark eyes are entirely focused on yours, locking you in place.
slowly, with an agonizingly careful, steady pressure, jay sinks his hips down.
the initial stretch is tight, a sharp, white-hot pinch of discomfort making your eyes widen as a soft, broken gasp escapes your parted lips. your body automatically tenses beneath him, your fingers digging deep into the skin of his shoulders.
instantly, jay stops. he freezes in place, only a fraction of his length inside you, his jaw clenching hard as he battles his own primal urge to thrust. a thin layer of sweat glistening on his skin, but his entire focus remains totally on your comfort.
"i know, i know," jay murmurs sweetly, his face dipping down to press a series of soft, comforting kisses to your eyelids, your burning cheeks, and the tip of your nose. "breathe through your nose, newbie. just like i taught you. let your body adapt to me."
he reaches down, his large hand finding your core again, his thumb rubbing slow, heavy circles against your sensitive skin while he stays perfectly still inside you. the steady, masterful friction slowly melts away the sharp pinch, replacing the discomfort with a deep, heavy wave of slick, throbbing heat. your muscles slowly relax, opening up around him, practically begging for the rest of his weight.
"jay," you whisper, your hips giving a tiny, tentative upward nudge. "more. please."
"good girl," jay rasps, a low, broken hum of absolute approval escaping his chest.
he shifts his hands, wrapping his long fingers securely around your waist, anchoring you to the mattress. slowly, smoothly, he pushes his hips down the rest of the way, burying his entire length deep inside your tight, wet heat. a loud, unvarnished cry tears out of your throat, your legs instinctively wrapping tightly around his waist to pull him even closer as the sheer, overwhelming fullness of him completely consumes your senses.
jay lets out a deep, guttural groan, his head burying themselves into the crook of your neck as he stays completely buried inside you for three long, breathless seconds, letting you adjust to the magnificent weight of him.
"you're so tight, sweetheart," jay whispers, his voice completely ungrounded, shaking with a raw emotion that has absolutely nothing to do with a lesson. "you feel so perfect around me. fuck. you're mine. you know that, right? you're completely mine now."
"i'm yours," you sob out, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the unsteady rhythm of his heart beneath your fingers. "i'm yours, jay."
when he finally begins to move, it is the furthest thing from the clinical, calculated pacing of before. it is slow, incredibly deep, and heavy with a fierce, possessive passion. jay draws his hips back until he is almost entirely out, making you let out a needy, panicked gasp, before sliding back in with a long, smooth stroke that drives straight to the center of your ache.
“ah— jay!” you cry out, your head tossing back against the pillows as the relentless, deep rhythm takes over the small room.
he guides you through every single movement. when your breathing gets too frantic, jay uses his grip on your waist to lift your hips slightly, slowing the pace down, lingering deep inside you until your breath catches in sync with his. his mouth is everywhere — kissing your lips, your jaw, biting softly on your neck, leaving dark, faint marks on your skin that say louder than words exactly who you belong to.
"you're doing so good for me, baby," jay praises you, his voice a heavy rumble right against your ear. his breathing is completely shattered, his chest slick with sweat as it crushes against yours with every single deep, driving thrust. "look at you. you're taking all of me so perfectly. so pretty for me, sweetheart."
the explicit, loving praises send jolts of pure electricity straight down your spine. you grow bolder, your fingers digging into his hips as you match his pace, lifting your pelvis to meet his downward thrusts, creating a flawless, sharp friction that completely breaks his remaining restraint.
the pacing quickly turns heated, the slow tenderness fracturing beneath a sudden, overwhelming wave of raw, unadulterated passion. jay's dark brows furrow in a look of pure agony, swears escaping his lips with every single heavy, pounding thrust. he moves faster, deeper, his hips crashing against yours with a bruising, desperate force that makes the entire bed shake.
"jay... jay, i'm close," you sob out, the tight, hot knot in your lower stomach coiling so tightly you can barely breathe. your fingers tangle desperately into his damp hair, pulling him down, needing his mouth on yours as your climax approaches.
jay snaps his eyes open, his dark gaze locking onto yours with a terrifying, beautiful amount of gravity. "look at me," he rasps, his hips thrusting deep, holding you completely still beneath him. "look at me when you break, sweetheart. let me see you."
you look up through your lashes, staring straight into his cloudless, fierce eyes as he delivers three fast, incredibly deep thrusts. the coiling tension inside you completely snaps, a blinding wave of pure, white-hot release crashing over your entire body. you let out a loud, broken cry, your inner muscles clamping tightly around his length in violent, pulsing spasms.
the sudden, tight friction completely breaks jay's remaining control. he lets out a deep, guttural cry against your mouth, his jaw clenching so hard the veins stand out against his neck as his hips give one final, breathless thrust, burying himself as deep as physically possible inside you as his own release hits him.
jay stays buried deep inside you for a long moment, his chest pressed flush against your back as both of you come down from the high. his lips brush lazy, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder, like he can’t stop touching you even now.
“are you okay, pretty?” he murmurs, voice rough and low against your skin.
you nod, still catching your breath, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “more than okay.”
he hums in satisfaction and carefully pulls out, immediately rolling you over so you’re facing him. his large hand slides up your side, gentle and possessive at the same time, as he tucks you against his chest. for a while, neither of you speaks. the only sounds are your slowing heartbeats and the distant hum of campus life outside his window.
jay’s fingers trace slow circles on your bare back.
“so,” he says after a long beat, that familiar lazy grin creeping into his voice, “how do you feel now that you’ve graduated from my lessons?”
you let out a soft laugh, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck. “i feel like an idiot.”
“yeah?” he chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. “took you long enough to figure it out.”
you pull back just enough to look at him, your fingers brushing the tiny scar on his nose. “why didn’t you say anything sooner? all those weeks… you just kept teaching me like it didn’t kill you every time i mentioned jake.”
jay’s expression softens. he cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin with surprising tenderness.
“because you came to me wanting help to get another guy,” he says quietly. “i wasn’t going to be the asshole who messed with your head while you were vulnerable. even if it sucked. even if i wanted to throw my laptop across the room every time you showed me his texts.”
he leans in and kisses you slowly, deeply — nothing like the heated frenzy from earlier. this one feels like a promise.
when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.
“for the record,” he murmurs, smiling again, “you were never going to end up with jake. not after the first time you asked me for a ‘practical example.’ i knew it then. you were already mine.”
you groan, embarrassed but smiling. “you’re so cocky.”
“and you love it.”
you do.
jay pulls the blanket higher over your shoulders and wraps both arms around you, holding you like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go. his lips brush your temple.
“no more lessons,” he whispers. “no more pretending. just this. just us.”
you press a soft kiss to his collarbone, already drifting off in the warmth of his embrace.
“just us,” you echo.
as sleep starts to pull you under, you feel jay smile against your hair.
summary. nerdy sim jaeyun is sweating buckets when the baddie he's been crushing on sits in his lap on a two-hour road trip.
pairing. nerdy!jake x baddie!female reader
genre(s). oneshot, smut, big porn with a small plot
warnings. MDNI, jake is a professional yearner, jake is very shy and repressed (and a bit insecure), masturbation, pervert!jake, unprotected sex (pls don’t), subby switch!jake, top or bottom he's always a sub, reader is a bit mean, jake cries a lot and begs a lot, slight sunsunki if you squint, handjob, blowjob, nose-riding, jake eats her out as well, reverse cowgirl, cowgirl, missionary, BRO WHY IS IT NEVER-ENDING, but like it's messy, EDGING EDGING EDGINGGGG, reader calls him jaeyun, reader is jealous and possessive, implied aftercare, enhypen ensemble, hmm please let me know if i missed anything! not beta read we die like injang
word count. 14,807 words
note. oh boy! this used to be a veeeery old, 8k-word draft, my take on nerdy jake that i decided to polish and give life to. it is also a gift for my bestie and fellow jake's wife: dr. @twocupsofsuga 🫶🏼 congratulations on passing medschool! you're so smart mhm here's my lap dance for you 😏
Women make Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Especially someone as bold and confident like you.
There's something about the soft lilt of your voice that makes him feel ashamed to even speak in your presence. There's something about your enticing eyes that makes him stutter and stumble with his own words, his grammar-police persona flying out the window. There's something about the sure sway of your hips that makes him want to avert his gaze and look more all the same time; like something sinful he shouldn't want but crave for anyway.
You're the kind of woman that makes Sim Jaeyun nervous.
Park Jongseong's cousin from the States that always comes to visit for summer, with that bold show of your body that'll usually often get frowned upon in his neighbourhood, that honey tint of your skin that's far from the local society's beauty standard. You're upfront and so unapologetically you, something he admires and makes him overly conscious if his hair looks nice or not.
It's another summer and you're here again. You're always a welcome addition to their annual trip to Jay's beach house, a road trip that's usually joined by the other five plus you and him. But this year, Nishimura Riki had a last minute decision to cancel his flight to Japan and opted to spend the summer with them instead of with his family.
Which leaves all of you with no space for one person inside Jay's SUV.
"I call dibs on the rear seats," Heeseung says before anyone gets the chance to and disappears into the car. Riki opens his mouth, about to follow the eldest of the group, when Jungwon shoots him a sharp look and blocks his way with his hand.
"No, Riki. You're not getting a seat."
Riki's face morphs into horror. "What?! Am I excluded from this trip?"
"You cancelled your flight this morning. You were never included in the trip."
Seeing the look of hurt on his face, Sunoo actually takes pity on Riki. Peering inside, the blonde mumbles with a pout when he sees a small ice box sitting beside Heeseung. "Surely we can squeeze him into the rear seat, right…?"
"All of his six-feet-one ass? I'd like to see you try, Sunoo hyung." Jungwon shakes his head. He leans on the passenger door, already the assigned co-pilot of the car, in charge of Spotify playlist and Waze and moral support to his Jay hyung. "Either one of you sits in another's lap, or we can Uber Riki to the beach house."
Hearing that, Riki immediately throws his hands. "It's a two-hour drive, hyung, I might just be paying for the Uber's car loan! It's gonna be so expensive!"
"If you can afford cancelling your flight with no refunds, then I think you can afford an Uber to Sokcho."
Riki whips his head to his Sunoo and Jake hyung, jutting out his lips in a pout that's borderline pitiful. Jake mirrors his expression, not really having the power to go against Jungwon's verdict—as if anybody could. Jake pities him, really, but it's Yang Jungwon. There's a whole menace behind those cute dimples and boba eyes.
Beside him, Sunghoon lets out a long sigh. "Then one of us will have to sit in another's lap."
It's an option that has everybody darting their eyes around, afraid that any eye contact with Jungwon will make them become the sacrificial thighs for the two-hour road trip. They're all men packed with mass and muscles, a result of a gym routine that unexpectedly becomes a problem today. Each of them at least weighs one hundred-forty pounds. Jake's sure that if he was chosen, he'd lose his legs by the time they exit Seoul.
Just in time, a loud thud is heard from the car boot. You and Jay walk into the scene, just having finished loading all of their stuff into the car. Jake adjusts his glasses instinctively, unknowingly fixing his appearence when his eyes land on you.
You've abandoned your cardigan, now only wearing a yellow camisole top that only reaches your belly button and a pair of jeans shorts that ends at the bottom swell of your ass. Your outfit choice hides nothing about your figure—your perfect body that admittedly has always been on his mind.
Jake gulps and lets his eyes trail down to your legs. You're seriously one of the most beautiful and hottest girls he's ever seen, and unfortunately, he has a severe problem of having a crush on baddies who are completely out of his nerdy league. You're definitely one of them.
When he looks up, Jake almost faints when your gaze catches his eyes with an unreadable expression. He quickly averts his eyes, adjusting the thick black rims of his glasses that didn't need adjusting.
Did you notice him staring?
"Car seat problem?" Jay asks when he senses the tension among the boys, already foreseeing this issue the moment Riki told him that he was joining their road trip over the phone this morning. They hesitantly nod.
"So what's the solution?"
"Riki takes an Uber to Sokcho—"
"Which will cost him his tuition fees," Jay comments, ever the hyperbole-user.
"—Or someone has to sit in another's lap."
Judging from the expression on Jay's face, he, too, doesn't think it's a comfortable position to be sitting in on a two-hour road trip.
But apparently, someone thinks otherwise.
"Oh, then let's do that!" You pipe in, flashing them with your charming smile. "I don't mind doing it!"
There's an elephant silence that follows your statement. Upon seeing their gaped expression, your smile slowly dies down, unsure if you had said the right thing.
"…Or not."
"Or yes!" Riki interrupts, relief flooding his senses. His eyes lit up as he looks around at each one of his friends. "Guys, she's offered to sit in anyone's lap. We can do that, right?"
Jungwon narrows his eyes. "It's a two-hour drive."
Riki blinks nervously. "But noona wants it."
"Then let Y/N noona sit in your lap."
Now, there's a rosy blush blooming across Riki's cheeks. Jake frowns. Lucky bastard. "I-I mean—"
"Not him," you cut in, a small smile playing on your lips. Jake can feel the exact moment everyone holds their breath, as if the air pauses on its own accord and waits for the rest of your sentence. Either they're anticipating or dreading to be your exclusive seat in the car—he's not sure. He's certain that he's the former, but he's also certain you'd pick someone more your type—Sunghoon or Riki, who are loyal gym buddies that possess strong thighs for you to sit on—or even Heeseung who's abandoned his nap and is eavesdropping the conversation now.
He doesn't know why, but surely someone hot like you would pick someone just as hot, right? And hot in Sim Jaeyun's definition is someone who matches your confidence (not him), someone who has a good body and is not shy to show them (Jake thinks his body is nice, but he's also always wearing long-sleeves), or just anyone but him.
Jay pinches the bridge of his nose. "Then who?"
When your eyes meet Jake's, the brown-haired boy almost loses his breath.
A smile curves up your lips. Jake thinks he's hallucinating because there's no way you are smirking at him.
"With Jaeyun."
There's a ripple of gasps, disbelief and shock mixing with a hint of betrayal (no doubt from Riki). Jay's brow disappears behind his hair.
"Seriously, Y/N? You don't have to—Riki's rich enough to pay for the Uber."
Riki's protest is muffled when Jungwon pulls him into a chokehold and slaps a hand over his mouth. Jake wants to pity him, really, but this time he thinks he's the one who needs help because what do you mean? There's no way—
"I'm serious. Jaeyun-ah."
—Oh my fucking God. Jaeyun. Jaeyun. Who's Jaeyun? Who the fuck is Jaeyun?
Jake has a trouble hearing you over the loud roar of his blood, heart threatening to jump out of his throat. But he manages a small, airy, 'Hm?' when all eyes are on him.
You tilt your head slightly, eyes never letting go of his, holding him hostage in your gaze alone. This, paired with the way you call his government name—a name you prefer over Jake because 'it's cuter' (according to you, not him) when he first introduced himself to you four years ago, and Jake had let you because he could never say no to you—are the most perfect, never-before-seen formula to unravel the physics genius Sim Jaeyun.
Yeah. Jake is a goner. And will soon have a boner if no one stops you from picking him as today's sacrificial thighs.
"Can I sit with you, Jaeyunnie?"
Someone please say no. Someone please stop you. Someone please tell this Jaeyun to say no because—because why him? Is this some kind of a cliché ploy that popular girls do to play with men's feelings, especially a physics nerd like him? Because if it is, Jake hates to admit that he'd be a willing participant (even if it'd break his heart a little).
"Yes, sure," he squeaks, finally recognising that Jaeyun is his name. He's still trying to process that you chose him—not Sunghoon with his ridiculous broad shoulders, or Riki with his ridiculous long legs, or Heeseung with his ridiculous charm—but him, who's sweating buckets and dampening his armpits underneath his long-sleeved T-shirt. His glasses almost glide down his nose from how sticky it is.
"It's settled, then!" Sunoo claps once, already red and irritated from having to stand under the unforgiving sun for longer than necessary. "Jake hyung and Y/N will sit together. So I will be sitting with—"
"Me!"
"Me!"
Sunoo ignores Sunghoon and Riki, and walks straight to the rear seats. "With Heeseung hyung!"
Soon, there's shuffling and then everyone's already inside the car. Riki sits in the middle with a pout, a penalty for causing the minor disruption and losing rock-paper-scissors to Sunghoon and Jake. Sunghoon is happily humming to a song from the 80s, occassionally turning around to tease Sunoo who's been trying to join Heeseung in his mandatory road-trip nap. Jay and Jungwon have settled into their designated seats as the drivers of the day, already talking about the route they're taking and traffic condition. While Jake—well, he's preparing himself for the inevitable.
You're still standing by the door, overseeing the situation at hand, and Jake tries to ignore the way his cheeks burn under your weighted gaze.
"Can I sit now?" You softly ask. Jake hesitates a moment before nodding his head frantically.
"Y-Yes."
You, on the other hand, do not hesitate at all. Jake instinctively spreads his legs when you climb into the car, already aiming his lap as your throne for the next 120-minute of the ride. His senses heighten, overly aware of his friends' eyes watching his every move, and the soft scent of peach from your body wash that invades his nose when your weight finally settles on him.
In a split second, Jake goes from never daring to touch you to having you resting your ass comfortably on his clothed dick, thanks to a certain Japanese who's now queueing songs like he didn't just commit a fatal crime against his Aussie hyung.
His slightly longer thighs bracket your exposed ones in a hesitant cage, every point of your skin meeting his seems to burn through the fabric of his jeans. Your hair and neck are one breath away from his nose now, where he's inhaling lungfuls of peaches and creams and your vanilla-ish perfume, and Jake chooses to blink at the ceiling to avoid looking over your shoulders and possibly flashing himself with the swell of your chest under that thin camisole top. The already-cramped space feels even smaller, and Jake doesn't think he can breathe properly.
While at it, Jake hopes his prayers could break through the car roof and reach the heavens.
God, please have mercy on me and let my other head not have a brain of its own.
God answers him shortly in the form of you shifting around.
"You comfortable?" You ask innocently, adjusting yourself on his lap. Jake nearly inhales his tongue, feeling blood rush to his ears and south. A strangled noise escapes his throat instead.
"Mhm."
From the front, he can hear a snort coming from none other than Jay. "You sound constipated, dude."
'Try having a pretty girl sit on your dick then!', is what Jake wishes he could say to his friend, but he knows that this is more of a him-problem. Someone like Jay won't get flustered in this kind of situation—at least not as bad as he is, who doesn't even fucking know where to put his hands, hovering in the air like he's about to conduct a choral speaking.
So, Jake resorts to conveying his rage through the rearview mirror instead, hoping that his glare and frown are enough to make Jay feel bad. (They don't, Jay finds him cute instead).
Jungwon comes to save the day as he turns to the backseat. "Do you have everything with you?" All of them except Jake hum. He thinks he doesn't have his sanity anymore, but of course the younger boy pretends to ignore him.
Jungwon eyes each one of his friends, his gaze stopping longer at the sight of Jake gripping the leather seat, the white of his knuckles almost matching his face, and you smiling innocently at him. Jungwon badly wants to laugh.
Jake widens his eyes at Jungwon. Help me!
The younger boy gives him an indecipherable look before turning to face the front. "Alright. We're not turning back for you even if you forgot your PlayStation."
Jake wants to say that they might want to leave a certain Sim Jaeyun to save him from this misery, but all words are gone from his mind when the car starts forward with a sharp jolt. Your back meets his chest in a soft thud, punching air out of his lungs. Your ass pushes deeper into his lap and Jake nearly pierces the leather with his nails from how desperately hard he's gripping it.
"Oops, sorry!" Jay chimes from the driver seat, sounding far from sorry.
You straighten up and turn around, looking more sorry than your cousin. "You okay? Sorry about that, Jaeyunnie."
Oh, fuck. Please don't use that voice on him when he's one bump away from kissing your lips. You're so close it feels like you're breathing in the same air he exhales, so close he can see the faint, tiny freckles dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose.
"Yeah," he manages, voice hoarse like he's just swallowed a bucket of sand. "I'm okay."
There's a halt in your movement, like you're actually seeing him through the calm façade he's exuding. His breath catches when your eyes drop to his lips briefly, the bitten-red skin tingles under your heated gaze.
Then, after a moment, you smile at him so easily; as if the tension never existed, as if the pull was only one-sided.
"If you say so."
When he's met with your shiny hair again, Jake lets out a breath he unknowlingly held. Your voice fills up the space softly as you begin talking to Jungwon and Jay, all cheery and unrestrained while he's exerting mental training equivalent to physical labour of a building constructor to stop his dick from hardening every time you move.
He hears a snicker from his left and immediately meets with Riki's mischievous eyes. The younger boy mouths something that has Jake closing his eyes and leaning on the headrest in defeat.
'Don't get horny now, Jake hyung.'
Jake is worried that if it's not now, it'll be the next time Jay hits a bump.
Instead of a road bump, Jake's personal enemy turns out to be you.
Ten minutes in, everything is still going fine. Jake is still breathing, alive, and hasn't popped a boner that could traumatise you and get him banned from the car permanently. You also seem okay, still engrossed in a conversation with the cat-duo driving the car, talking about college and your winter trip to Japan.
For a moment, Jake selfishly thinks if his lap was that…sitable, seeing as you haven't shown any signs of discomfort yet. Or, to be fair, it has been barely ten minutes since they're en route, and though those minutes are enough to pull the others into a car nap, ten minutes feel like one round of orbit around the Sun when he has you sitting on his lap.
Jake can feel himself melt into the seat. Maybe this isn't so bad at all. Maybe he can make it to Sokcho without having to cut his dick off before anyone could see his hard-on. He just has to sit really quietly and will his mind to avoid teetering dangerous territory.
Yeap. Everything is fine.
Not until you decide to put your hands on his thighs.
Jake almost jolts at the contact, flexing his thighs instinctively when you place your perfectly manicured fingers on the surface of his jeans. It's a brief touch, one that can pass as accidental, but the lingering heat it leaves behind feels almost physical.
His eyes dart to the back of your head, trembling with nerves nearly frayed at the edges, gauging your reaction, and bites the bottom of his lips when you resume your conversation as if nothing happened. Or nothing really happened to you.
It's just a touch, for God's sake. Calm your dick down.
If a simple touch from you could unravel him this fast, what about other things? What if you hug him, or-or if you hold his hand, or—wait, is he wishing for other things to happen between you and him? (He does, but he knows that it won't happen.)
Jake gulps harshly and decides to enjoy the scenery instead. He stares hard out the window, so intense like he's memorising every species of the trees they pass by, mind lost in a whirlwind of horny thoughts clashing with rationality, when you do something again.
This time, it isn't an innocent touch on his thigh. It's an innocent move to hear Jungwon better. You lean forward, pushing your ass deeper into his lap simultaneously, offering your ear to Jungwon who seems to be sharing a secret about Jay. Jake's breath hitches and his hands almost come up to hold your waist, the friction sending heat through his body.
Fuck. He peels his eyes away from the window forcefully and follows down the dip of your spine to where your ass meets his crotch. Your position highlights the narrow of your waist and the width of your hips, all sinful curves that have him swallowing harder, something inside his pants threatening to stir alive. Jake closes his eyes.
Think of Jesus, Jake. Think of Layla. He absentmindedly fixes his glasses. Think of quantum physics. Think of—
"—Oh!" You squirm excitedly, round butt wiggling slightly against his cock. "Yes, I met her before!"
Jake hisses before he can stop himself, the sound serving like a knife cutting the conversation. You and Jungwon instantly turn to look at him, the latter wearing a mischievous expression when he sees the heat painting Jake's face red.
"Are you okay?" You prompt in concern, noticing how stiffly Jake is nodding at you.
"Y-Yeah. Good. I'm horgoony."
Freudian slip is gonna be the death of him.
Jay and Jungwon burst out laughing, catching the slip as fast as any dirty-minded man would. Jake's face turns a darker shade of red, avoiding your eyes whose brows now pinching in confusion.
"Horgoony?" You echo, pretty confident you have never heard of that strange word spoken before. Jake immediately shakes his head, panic creeping into his chest when Jungwon shows a sign of opening his mouth.
No! Do not let that orange cat speak! Jungwon only cares about his downfall!
"I feel horribly good! Yeah," Jake stammers, to hell with any logical reasoning. "Like, I feel good because we're on a road trip. But also kind of horrible because I get motion sickness sometimes."
Now that the string of the sentences has flowed out of his mouth, Jake thinks he is kind of making sense. Satisfaction blooms in his chest when you nod in understanding, because two conflicting emotions—feeling good and horrible—can exist simultaneously, right? Like the way he wants to push you from his lap and hide in the deepest part of the Sokcho forest forever but also craves to just grab your hips and pull you close and have his way with you—wait stop.
What a horrible, horny, nothing-good man you are, Sim Jaeyun.
"That does sound horrible." Jake snaps out of his thoughts when he registers your voice, nodding fervently to amplify the faux pity that he's just orchestrated.
You give him a sorry look, the one where it pulls the corners of your mouth down into a frown. Jake sighs in relief. You bought it. Thank God for his smart brain.
"Yeah. I think I'm just gonna take a nap," he adds, voice turning softer when you still look at him in concern. He feels a strange need to overexplain.
"Motion sickness happens because your eyes see one thing while your inner ears and muscles feel another. If I take a nap, it'll eliminate the visual stimuli that causes the conflict…" Jake trails off, catching himself before he could go on and on and on on why humans experience motion sickness, and possibly bore you to death. He shakes his head imperceptibly. "So—yeah. I should take a nap."
To his surprise, you only give him a warm smile. "I never knew that, Jaeyun. Then what's the correlation between motion sickness and playing your phone in a moving vehicle?"
Jake blinks behind his glasses, genuinely taken aback that you're actually listening instead of zoning out halfway through his rambling.
"Oh. Um." He clears his throat. "It's kind of the same concept. Your eyes are focused on something stationary—your phone—but your body still feels the movement of the car."
You hum softly, leaning back against him slightly, prompting him to continue. Jake immediately forgets how lungs work.
"S-So your brain gets confused because the signals don't match," he continues weakly. "Your eyes tell your brain you're sitting still, but your inner ears are like, 'No, we're moving.' It's like mixed signals, and our body doesn't like mixed signals."
His ears are warming up from how true the words are to the situation he's having with you.
"And right now you're seeing my stationary body while the car's moving," you continue with a subtle tilt of your mouth, "so you're nauseous and all dizzy now, right?"
Jake almost chokes to death. Did you know about his little problem? He blinks at you rapidly, hand itching to touch his glasses in a fit of nerves.
Oh my God. He's going to die. He's going to die and Jungwon will write 'Sim Jaeyun was a smart friend, died a horny man with a dick that never went down, a standing ovation to his contribution to Seoul National University' as his headstone epitaph. You know about it so Jake is going to die!
He stumbles with his own words. "I-I mean—It's actually—"
You give him a cheeky smile. "I'm just joking with you, Jaeyun. You're probably sick because you're having me on your lap like this."
You start digging into your front pocket, frowning when it's empty. Jake holds his breath when your hands move to your back pocket, looking for whatever it is that gets you so determined and his dick so excited whenever your finger brushes against his crotch. Jake is almost blue from not breathing.
He thinks this time he's really going to die.
"Found it!"
You offer your palm to him, where two mint candies sit idly on the soft surface. Jake's chest slowly feels lighter as air rushes in, no longer collapsing under the pressure of your searching hand accidentally brushing against him moments ago. He clears his throat.
You beam at him. "These will soothe your sickness, Jaeyunnie. Please take them."
Jake studies your face.
Do you know what you're doing to him? Was everything done on purpose, or are you really oblivious to everything?
He swallows and forces a nod, taking the candies from your palm, feeling a spark of electricity in his system when his fingers brush your skin.
"Thank you, Y/N."
You turn your back on him, resuming your conversation with Jungwon and Jay. All sweet and cotton candy, unaware of the turmoil he's going through. Jake stares at the candies in his hand, a mocking sign to his misery, and heaves out a quiet sigh. He glances at his wristwatch.
It feels like two world wars had happened but it's only been twenty minutes into the drive. An hour and forty minutes of horny torture remains for Sim Jaeyun to endure, and he's not sure if he's going to survive.
He slowly closes his eyes. Maybe sleep can help with horniness, too.
It does, but only for a moment, because Jake could swear he just blinked when you tap his shoulder a few times.
Jake blinks, half-groggy and half-alert. Did he have a wet dream of you and get hard in his unconsciousness? Is that why you woke him up?
But he's met with your apologetic face instead. "I'm sorry for waking you up," you whisper, trying not to wake other boys who are fast asleep. "But my back's sore. Can I lean on you for a moment?"
In a flash, all incoherent thoughts fly out the window. Guilt starts lodging in his chest as he realises—glancing at his watch—that you've been sitting straight for one hour. Before he knows it, Jake is already nodding at you, adjusting his seat to accommodate the new position.
"Y-Yes, you can."
God, he's such a loser. The word 'no' seems to disappear from his dictionary whenever you're around.
You reward him with an appreciative smile and waste no time to turn around and lean back softly on him. The moment your back touches his chest, Jake can feel his system kick start, a chemical reaction that he can never understand no matter how hard he studies Biology.
You physically relax into his chest. "This is so much better," you sigh, a dreamy smile on your face, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Then you tilt your head upwards to glance at him. "Is this okay for you?"
Jake hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating through the fabric of his shirt. The brown-haired boy nods wordlessly. "More than okay."
For a moment, you just stare at him, brilliant eyes holding his in a soft gaze. It's a silent minute full of everything unspoken, rendering him speechless and even more restless because no matter how smart he is, he could never decipher the meaning behind this look you're giving him. There's something you hide that he feels like he should know, like an open secret waiting for the right time for him to catch.
This time, Jake is even sure that you can hear his heartbeat.
Then, as if that moment never happened, you close your eyes and get comfortable.
"We should sleep, Jaeyun. Don't want you to get carsick again."
You nuzzle closer and Jake holds his breath, feeling the silky strands of your hair brushing against his jaw. His hands hover, not knowing where to land, though the pinch of your waist is where he wants to hold the most. Eventually, Jake settles on his thighs, watching the difference between his veiny hands and the smooth span of your thighs.
Is he still sleeping? Is he dreaming or are you really sleeping on his chest?
It seems that sitting in his lap really tired you out, because you're fast asleep in less than five minutes. The guilt in his chest amplifies at the sight of your closed eyes, breathing evening out as sleep overtakes your being. Jake bites his lips.
He's so shameless, napping to avoid getting turned on instead of caring for your being. He’s so horrible, worrying more about his hard-on than the fact that you’ve been uncomfortable for an hour. Jake wants to cry so bad.
Jake spends the rest of the ride watching you sleep. He fixes your hair when it falls over your face, tucking it behind your ear carefully, and then smiles to himself when he sees your pout. He blocks the sunlight with his hand when it's glaring on your skin through the window, not minding letting his hand redden from the harsh light. He instinctively holds your waist at a sharp turn, firm and secure, though he lets go just as fast as if it burns, afraid that it's not a touch you'd receive had you been conscious.
Other than the carnal desire he has suppressed for you, this road trip also makes him realise the depth of the feelings he actually harbours for you. He's so doomed. He's so doomed because in what universe would a hot, sweet, popular California girl like yourself, return back the feelings of a bland, studious, quiet Korean-Aussie boy like him?
In fictions. In another lifetime. But not in Sim Jaeyun's current universe right now.
However, the Sim Jaeyun in this universe also will never know peace.
Because just as he's getting comfortable with the you-watching routine that he just recently discovered, the road has another plan for him when Jay finally, and actually, hits a bump this time.
The first bump is a mild surprise. Jake gathers it's a small bump, one that Jay overlooks while getting excited over Bon Jovi playing on the rodeo. But the aftermath brings you settling deeper into him, pressing on him in a way that has his breath hitching. Jake holds your waist on instinct.
"Oh my God, I didn't see that," Jay mutters from the front.
Jake tries to steady his breath. That's…a shock. One that shatters the soft atmosphere he created while watching you, now replaced with the same tension he's been fighting the last hour.
Jake lets go of your waist when he assumes that it's just a one-time thing. But then the bump happens again, and instead of a solid, big one—it's shaky, like they're sliding through endless, tiny jagged rocks.
"Damn bro, this road needs fixing," Jay makes another commentary. He glances at the rearview mirror. "You good, Jake?"
Jake doesn't know what to answer. "I think I am," he mumbles, voice clipped.
Is it good that you're practically bouncing in his lap, adding more pressure with almost no interval for him to recover mentally? He thinks not. But Jay doesn't have to know that.
"We're almost there," Jungwon chimes in, navigating the map. There's a shakiness in his voice that comes from the vibration caused by the bumps. "Fifteen minutes at most. We found a shorter route just now and traffic was smooth."
Fifteen minutes.
Jake thinks he might actually die in fifteen minutes.
Another bump sends your body rocking against him softly, your sleeping face scrunching for a brief second before relaxing. His grip tightens.
Fuck.
If Jay doesn't stop the car and fix this damn road himself then he's definitely going to pop a boner soon.
Jake squeezes his eyes shut when another bump rattles through the car, and then again, and again, and again until Jake can barely separate one sensation from another anymore. Until he doesn't know where he starts and where you end anymore. You shift unconsciously, settling heavier against his chest before Jay hits another bump.
This time, Jake makes a mistake of looking down at you.
He didn't notice it before, too lost in his sappy, romantic feelings for you. But right now, it's actually so damn obvious that the angle from where he sits taller than you and you lean against him, he can easily see your cleavage past the neckline of your camisole.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The road doesn't stop shaking beneath the tires, and so does his pulse as he watches your breasts bounce with every bump that comes their way. Jake averts his eyes, so stiff and so strained, but can't help letting his gaze drift back to watch the soft mounds shake.
This is bad. This is very, very bad, and Jake is nothing but a bad fucking pervert.
A particularly rough patch of road sends the entire car jolting. Your body bounces against him harder this time, more pressure and more friction that Jake almost whimpers. He tips his head back, gulping harshly as the line of his long neck glistens with a sheen of sweat.
Inside his jeans, he can feel his cock kick.
Oh, fuck—he's definitely hard now.
Oh my fucking God.
"This is the last one, promise!"
Jake doesn't even register Jay's words, or the way your head hits his jaw from impact, because his internal system is flooded with horny-filled panic. He can feel it: his dick twitching and getting semi-hard from the continuous stimulation from your bouncing. He doesn't even realise that he's now clawing at his own thighs, seeking strength that could neutralise his blooming lust, or that you are finally awake.
"Are we almost there?" You ask groggily, blissfully unaware of the raging boner forming under your ass. You sit up when the coastal view greets your blurry vision, mouth gaping in awe.
"Oh, wow!" You gasp, always excited to visit Sokcho no matter how many times you've been there. "It's beautiful as always!"
The road is smooth now, but Jake's final torture arrives in the form of you bouncing, excitedly and consciously, in his lap. You wiggle in enthusiasm, urging Jungwon to pass your phone that's been charging at the front to take some pictures and send it to the family groupchat.
"Jungwon, Jaeyun, look at those seagulls!"
Jake is seeing no seagulls. He's only seeing white hot, painful pleasure as you move in his lap, his brain dissolving into useless static. His fingers twitch, itching to grab your waist and force you to stay still, but you're so excited that he almost didn't have the heart to do it.
"Did you see that?" You lean to the window, and then shift happily when you spot kites in the sky. "We should do that too! Hey, Jay, do you think you can—"
Jake finally has had enough.
The restraint that he's been holding onto finally breaks like a taut wire getting cut. His hands snap to your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, hips almost bucking up from the delicious friction alone. His lips drop to the shell of your ears, hot, ragged breath brushing the sensitive skin as his voice lowers an octave.
"Y/N," Jake licks his dry lips, the tip of his tongue peeking through. He watches with dark eyes as the hair on your neck stands straight under his unforgiving proximity.
"Stop fucking moving."
And that's the moment you feel it.
A bulge, hard and rigid and big, poking your ass from where you rest in his lap.
Oh my fucking God.
Sim Jaeyun is hard.
You freeze, breath hitching.
Neither of you dare to move. Not even your excitement of being back to your uncle's beach house, or Jay's questioning look from where you cut your sentence, can bring you to move. No.
You couldn't, not when Jake's hard dick is nudging at you right now, so tangible and unmistakably his.
The brown-haired boy is still panting in your ear, shooting tingles through your system. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, like he's trying very, very hard to hold back from overstepping lines that shouldn't be overstepped.
You hadn't meant for this to happen. Sure, Jake is fun to tease. That boy is all broken words and nervous glances whenever you're in his proximity, and it can't be helped when he blushes prettily too.
You just can't stop yourself from seeking his attention in your own way, because aside from being a pretty boy, Jake is also such a sweetheart and so, so smart. And in an age where intellligence is a scarcity, you absolutely adore smart guys.
Especially the one who isn't condescending and is actually eager to help people like him.
So, really—you hadn't meant for this to happen. Offering to become the one without a seat is a decision you made when you consider yourself to be lighter than most of the guys, but offering to sit in Jake's lap is definitely a decision born from personal bias. You kind of knew what it would cause—seeing how stiff and awkward Jake had been—but you let it go halfway through when the soreness in your back outweighs your desire to tease.
Which has now brought you to this situation.
The car's still moving like nothing happened, and the boys are slowly stirring to life one by one. Everything is normal, except for the nails digging into your waist and the deep timbre in your ear.
You swallow harshly, not daring to move. Jake is so close, so close that you can feel every movement of his chest. You sit still in his hold, trying not to wince from how hard he's gripping your hips, and how hot you find the situation is.
His dick, despite no movement is being made, only hardens further. Jake gasps almost imperceptibly, almost matching the way your breath leaves your mouth when you notice, again, just how big he is.
Fuck. Fuck, that's so hot. Sim Jaeyun is so hot and you can feel yourself slowly getting turned on.
Without any warning, as if driven by an invisible force that urges to look at him, you finally turn around.
And Jake looks absolutely wrecked.
Beads of sweat dot on his forehead, the furrow of his eyebrows showing restraint and constraint. His lips are red from how hard he's biting them, and his previously clean, smooth glasses are now fogged up and hazy. His eyes, glazed over with tamed lust, lock into yours, half-lidded and dark.
A breath catches in your throat.
This is not the Jaeyun you know.
Or, more accurately, this is not the Jaeyun he usually shows.
This is another side of him, like seeing Jake wearing short-sleeves and showing his arms for the first time. Gone are his round, puppy eyes, now replaced with this narrowed, slit gaze that makes you shiver under his heated stare. He used to be so nervous around you, and you can feel that he's nervous now, too, but his pent-up sexual frustration seems to outweigh any rational daily-Jake thoughts.
This is still Sim Jaeyun. Just a different, never-before-seen side of Sim Jaeyun.
"Are we finally there?" Riki, the last one to awaken, stretches beside the two of you. You don't even notice that the car has pulled up into the driveway of Jay's ridiculously huge beach house from how piercing Jake's gaze is holding your eyes captive now.
Jake bites his lips, the fog in his head slowly clearing up now that the car has stopped. As if snapping out of a daze, he quickly maneuvers you into Riki's lap instead, showcasing his strength that he often hides. The latter yelps at the sudden weight and grabs your waist on instinct, before Jake darts out of the car without looking back.
"Sim Jaeyun! Bring your own fucking luggage!" Jay shouts from the car boot, but the brown-haired boy has already disappeared behind the door.
You sit, stunned in silence, still frozen and unable to speak. Not until Riki nudges at you, Heeseung and Sunoo impatiently asking the both of you to move so that they can get out.
"Are you okay, noona? Is hyung okay?"
You nod. You give the youngest a strained smile as you slowly move out of his lap and out of the car, careful not to start another war of hormones.
"We're okay."
The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.
Jake is avoiding you.
It's a foreseeable aftermath. It's inevitable. But it pains you regardless.
It gets to the point where he straight up refuses sitting next to you at dinner, which raises some eyebrows and teasing from the boys. But you know better.
He is deliberately avoiding you.
It frustrates you, really. Because every summer, it is your thing with Jake to sit in silence in the morning and read at the porch, enjoying the sunrise over wordless, comfortable silence. But now he purposely sleeps in, waking up later than usual, leaving you alone in the cold of dawn, your paperback copy of The Inheritance Games left untouched on your thighs.
At movie nights, he'll be the last one to join, just to see where you sit first to avoid being near you. He'll become extra quiet when you speak, acting like the floor is more interesting than your face, not even sparing you a glance.
And your patience is wearing thin. Almost thinner than the bikini you're wearing right now.
Fine. He can ignore you all he wants, act like he didn't just pop a boner after letting you sit in his lap. He can pretend like you never affected him, pretend like nothing happened, but one thing you know is that Jake could never betray his attraction for you.
So, be fucking it. You don't care if it's petty to pick the skimpiest bikini you own today, the one in hot pink that always contours the line of your cleavage, perfectly bunching up your tits and making them look rounder. The one that you know will drive Jake crazy from how bouncy your ass looks, basically confirmed when his eyes can't seem to stop trailing after you even after you dive into the pool.
You come to the surface with a gaping mouth, letting the water slide down the lines on your body, and make no show of hiding yourself from looking straight at Jake.
That coward has the nerves to look away after staring at you like a touch-deprived teenager.
"Is Sim Jaeyun single?"
The reason why you always agree to join the all-boys road trip is because it's not exactly all-boys. There are girls who live nearby. Girls you're acquainted with from how often you follow your cousin to his beach house every summer. Spoiled rich girls whose parents come from the same tax bracket as your and Jay's family.
And one of those girls is shamelessly checking Jake out now, hungry eyes drinking in the way his wet, long-sleeved shirt sticks to his torso, outlining the faint lines of his abdomen that he never shows. She's sitting on the edge of the pool, feet-dipping while you take a break from your swim.
You narrow your eyes, an ugly spark of jealousy blooming in your chest. You don't like the implication of the question, and you absolutely hate the way she's looking at him now.
"Don't even think about it."
Your neighbour only shrugs and continues her eye-fucking. "He's so my type. So nerdy, so smart. I wonder how he'll look like without the glasses?"
You will poke her eyes before she gets the chance to. "Use your own imagination," you hiss, almost bitter when you realise that you also have barely seen him without his glasses.
Jake has sensitive eyes that react badly to contact lenses, which explains his preference for thick glasses than going out without them. Even now, when everyone is fooling around Jay's enormous pool, his thick, black-rimmed glasses perch on the bridge of his tall nose—the nose you hope you can put into good use one day.
The girl only hums, half-listening to you. She sighs dreamily. "I can't believe that I have his number."
At this point, the jealousy has turned so ugly you're actually seeing green. Or red. Or whatever that Cortis song sounds like. "You have his number?"
She finally pays attention to you. "Yeap! I asked him yesterday. I don't know what I should say to start the conversation though," she pouts, glancing back at Jake who's now sitting on the side with Sunghoon, sipping on coconut water. "Should I ask him if I can join dinner at your house tonight?"
Jake gave his number to her?
You grit your teeth. The hurt has materialised into a knife, twisting in your chest in a sharp pain disguised in jealousy. So, while Jake's been avoiding you like a fucking plague, he's been spending his time giving away his number to any curious girl? He's been talking with other girls while leaving you with radio silence, one that you didn't deserve because it was him who popped that boner?!
You are the one who's supposed to ignore him—not the other way around!
What a fucking loser.
You can't stop the bitterness from leaking through your voice when you finally speak.
"It's me and Jay that you should ask—not Sim Jaeyun. And no, you cannot join dinner at my house tonight."
You leave her dumbfounded by the pool, seething in anger that the water on your skin could steam from the heat alone. You march to the slide doors, giving Jake and Sunghoon the nastiest side-eye you could ever give when the latter calls out to you, and slam the door behind.
Whatever. Or not whatever. Sim Jaeyun is a fucking pervert and a jerk and a coward, and stupidly hot while being so oblivious to how hot he actually is. Whatever! You don't care.
You don't care that he barely speaks a word to you. You don't care that he leaves any room you walk into. You don't care that he's flirting with other girls and giving away his number willingly when you had his on default for being Jay's younger cousin, and from Jay himself at that.
The corner of your eyes burn.
You wish you didn't care.
You're ignoring Jake.
Jake knows this the moment you no longer come to the porch to read. Instead, every morning is now spent in the garden with Jungwon, tending to Jay's mom's flowers. After, you'll brew some hibiscus tea that you pluck from the garden and share it with Sunoo and Riki.
And when he walks into the kitchen to get some food, you no longer meet his eyes, or save that apple that he knows you know he likes to eat for breakfast. You let Heeseung eat all of them! It's so—so unfair, because he likes apples and you know it!
It sends Jake to the end of a cliff. Why are you suddenly being like this?
His sanity is stretching thin as he tries to work his brain. Why the sudden change? Is it because of his silence? But he's just embarrassed to face you! Or—did you find out about it?
Genuine horror floods his mind when he thinks, oh no, you must've realised how disgusting he truly is. How dirty-minded and perverted he is, that every day he has to take cold showers three times a day whenever he catches a glimpse of you.
You in your sleepwear. You in your casual shirt. You in shorts.
You in bikini.
Jake has fallen out of any point of salvation, because God, could any man get this horny just from a mere look? In the back of his mind, he knows it's the image of you sitting in his lap that ignited the beginning of his undoing, but the continuous hard-on he gets whenever he's around you is definitely, entirely on him.
And Jake, oh so sweet Jake, doesn't dare touch himself to the thought of you. No. He'd rather leave his balls blue, take cold showers every morning, every evening, and every night, and let his dick go from standing tall like a national anthem was being played to becoming flaccid under the cold water without any action. He doesn't even have the guts to touch his own fucking dick, the guilt blocking him from doing anything to relieve himself.
So—did you find out about it? Because if you did, then Jake could understand the cold shoulders you're giving him.
But Jake is a mere man—maybe a bit perverted, and a bit too horny despite his image, so he couldn't stop himself from getting hard the moment he sees you walking into the living room in nothing but an oversized white tee that falls off your shoulder. He grabs the nearest cushion and places it on top of his crotch, blood already rushing south when he sees the strap of your black bra.
This is why he has to go to church sometimes; to balance everything out. Because Einstein never talked about the solution or formula to cure men's (Jake's) sexual desires that seem endless. And sexual desires that come from seeing a strap of a bra alone.
Whatever it is, Jake's soul has almost left his body, already tuning out of his surroundings. He doesn't even realise that Jay and Riki are wrestling for the TV remote, and accidentally sending said remote flying onto the floor just a few feet away from him.
He only comes to when you stand in front of him, back facing him, and bend over to pick up the remote.
You. Bend. Over. In. Front. Of. Him.
In a second, Jake has a full view of your ass. The shirt rides up slightly, revealing white shorts that stretches across the round flesh as you bend over to reach the remote and Jake feels like he's brought back to the car when he was fighting demons as you unintentionally ground his crotch with every movement.
His grip on the cushion tightens, head dizzy from the way you practically shove your butt in his face.
Jake releases a shaky exhale.
He can see the outline of your panties and wonders if it matches your black bra.
And he can see the outline of his doomed future if he stays in the living room any longer.
"Whose turn is it to pick the movie?" You casually ask, now straightening up as if you just didn't flash Jake with your perky ass.
"Jake hyung," Jungwon replies from the center of the long couch, carding his hand through Sunoo's silky hair, the blonde who's now laying down his head on his lap. "It's his turn."
Your face remains expressionless as you turn to the glasses boy. But instead of taking the remote from your hand, Jake stands up, avoiding eye contact and clutching the cushion tight over his crotch.
Then he flees the living room, leaving behind six confused men and one very angry, very upset girl.
Jake thinks he deserves a medal for surviving the living room.
Or perhaps an exorcism.
The moment his bedroom door clicks shut behind him, Jake drops the cushion onto the floor and drags both hands down his face with a groan. His glasses nearly fall off his nose in the process.
What the fuck is wrong with him?
He paces once across the room, then twice.
Outside, he can still hear the muffled sounds of the movie downstairs—Riki yelling dramatically at a character, Sunoo complaining about spoilers, Jay laughing too loudly. Normal sounds. Normal people.
Meanwhile Jake feels like he's one accidental glimpse of your shoulder away from committing a crime.
His eyes squeeze shut.
That white shirt.
The black bra strap.
The way you bent over in front of him so casually, completely unaware that Jake nearly ascended right there on Jay's living room couch.
"Fuck," he whispers weakly to himself.
Jake drops onto the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees.
Maybe he should take another cold shower. That would make four today.
"I should sleep," he mutters to himself, breath shaky. "S-Sleep can help with motion sickness and horniness."
With a newfound resolution, he turns off the lamp and settles under the blanket. His movement is stiff and awkward, overly aware of the tent straining his shorts. Once he pulls the blanket over his chest, Jake closes his eyes, forcing sleep into his system.
Only, the image of you swimming in your hot pink bikini flashes behind his eyelids.
"No, stop. Not that," he whispers, brows scrunching in protest. He shakes his head, as if physically removing the image away, and tries again.
This time, the image of you in his lap comes back, stripped down to heated skin and soft breaths, your body moving against his in ways that make his stomach twist.
His eyes fly open. The image is so clear and vivid, thanks to his photographic memory and insane imagination—the very thing that's been saving him in the academic department now serving as the tool that brings him to his downfall.
His cock twitches involuntarily.
"N-No," he pants, chest moving rapidly. He grips the edge of the blanket, knuckles turning white. "I—Stop—"
Then he remembers just now: you bent over, giving him a delicious access to his ass-shaped sufferings, and Jake almost whimpers from the flashback alone.
The room rises in temperature, the air conditioner doing nothing to tone down the feverish lust spreading through his body. Jake finally relents and discards the blanket, glasses all fogged up as he stares at the bulge under his shorts.
"I'm sorry," he whimpers, slipping off his shorts and boxers until they bunch up around his knees. "I'm so fucking sorry."
His cock springs free, standing tall in the dimness of his room. The tip glistens, already drooling with precum that shows no sign of stopping. With shaky hands, hesitance still edging around his lust, Jake finaly touches himself.
He has to bite down hard on his lips to muffle the sound threatening to escape. His hand stutters, the feeling of finally rubbing some relief after days of holding back comes crashing down on him. His head spins from how heavy his cock is in his hold, veins protuding like they're going to combust.
He slowly starts moving his hand, lathering up precum to ease the glide. His head tips back, a strangled sound catches behind his throat.
"Oh, God," his head spins, sparks of lust bursting at the tip of his fingers. "Oh, fuck—"
Through his hazy gaze of the blurry lenses, Jake tightens his grip slightly. A moan escapes his lips at the force, his cock only getting heavier in his hand. He plays with the mushroom tip of his dick, thumbing the slit and hissing when it sends pleasure up his spine.
"Ngh—" his eyes squeeze shut, brain putting up pieces of his memory of you. His body jerks when the rough pad of his thumb touches the underside of his cock, and as if on cue, the image of your jiggly breasts inside the car flashes behind his closed eyes.
"Fuck—Y/N," Jake sobs, picking up his pace. His wrist turns and flicks, biceps flexing hard at the speed he's going. Guilt starts accumulating inside his chest the more he thinks of you, of your voice, of your gaze, of your scent—but guilt isn't enough to stop Jake from chasing his own release.
"'So sorry," he chokes, letting go of his bottom lip, bitten-red and swollen. He imagines it was your hand instead of his, smaller and softer, with those manicured nails that he loves so much. How tiny your hand would look around his hard dick, trying to grip his length in its fully erect state.
Jake isn't inexpereinced. He's had his own fair share of sexcapades with a few people, and he's always been told that he's bigger than average. The big dick that he hides under his pants, further concealed by his nervous persona that only certain girls find cute.
But seeing his state right now, Jake thinks he's the furthest thing from cute.
He's pathetic.
Pathetic and gross and disgusting, feeling bad for jerking off to the thoughts of you but still unable to retract his hand and stop. The sound of his cries that he fails to hide fills up the space, and for the first time in days he's very glad that he won paper-rock-scissors during room assignment.
"Oh, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N," he chants, mouth gaping open when he can feel himself close. His wrist is already tired and numb from the relentless pace he's set, the slick sound of his sinful act matching the roar of his blood rushing in his ears.
"Please, please, 'm gonna cum," he sobs, tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. His hips lift off the mattress. "Please—"
"Do not fucking cum, Sim Jaeyun."
Jake's entire body locks up.
His wrist stills immediately, pleasure crashing into horror so fast it makes his stomach twist. For a second, he genuinely thinks his heart stops beating.
The room goes dead silent except for his ragged breathing.
Through fogged-up lenses and teary eyes, Jake stares at you standing by the door, unable to process the fact that you're actually here.
That you heard him.
That you saw him.
Oh my fucking God.
His hand jerks away from himself like he’s been burned, chest heaving violently as he scrambles to sit up straighter. The blanket tangles around his legs from how abruptly he moves.
"I—"
Nothing comes out.
Jake has never felt this level of humiliation before.
Not when he failed his chemistry olympiad in tenth grade. Not when he tripped in front of his entire lecture hall. Not even when Jungwon found his hidden Pokémon card collection at nineteen.
This is worse. So much worse.
Because it's you.
You, standing there in that oversized white shirt slipping off your shoulder again, eyes dark and unreadable as you look at him sprawled across the bed like something shameful.
Jake feels sick. His face burns so hot he thinks he might actually pass out.
"S-Sorry," he chokes out instinctively, because apologising is the only thing his brain knows how to do right now. "I didn't—I wasn't—I—"
His voice cracks miserably.
Jake is going to cry.
What should he even say in this situation? Sorry that you caught him jerking off to you? Sorry that he's such a nerd, such a loser that the only time he could talk smoothly with you was when he was defining what motion sickness was, but never had the courage to tell you how much he likes you and how much you affect me? Sorry that he's such a pervert that he thinks of you in positions way too inappropriate to be just friends?
The weight of his arousal sits heavy against his thigh, a testament to a newfound, lifelong embarrassment that he'll carry to his grave.
Jake squirms under your heated gaze, and quickly covers his crotch with his blanket when you slip into his bedroom wordlessly. The door clicks shut, the sound amplified by the heavy silence hanging in the air. His body tenses up.
Oh my God—he messed up, didn't he? Jake hangs his head low in shame, tears gathering along his lashlines.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to…"
His vision turns blurry. Fuck, you must hate him now.
"I-It's wrong—I know that—I'm sorry—ah!"
Jake looks up in surprise when your bold hand cups his erection. There's angry lines in your forehead, a sneer on your mouth, but the nasty look you're giving him does nothing to soothe down his arousal.
If anything, twisted as it is—it turns him on even more.
"Couldn't even look me in the eye downstairs," you begin, "but you here you are, jerking off to me like I wouldn't find out?"
The venom in your voice hurts him. You're being mean with your words, and it hurts his feelings but Jake couldn't care less. His mind is a messy jumbles of guilt and pleasure and shame, so all he does is cry and shake his head.
"I-I'm sorry, Y/N—"
"Are you really sorry?" you tighten your grip on his cock, one knee dipping into the mattress. "Your dick doesn't seem sorry though."
Jake wants to cry—oh, he's already crying. His hand curls into the sheets beneath him, unable to form coherent words when you start rocking the heel of your palm on his hard-on. The friction from the blanket and the pressure from your hand only spark electric pleasure through his system.
Within seconds, Jake is all hard again—even harder than before.
"Tell me, Jaeyunnie. Did all of this happen because I sat in your lap?"
Jake whimpers pathetically. You knew. Of course you knew. You're not only hot and pretty and kind, you're also smart like him, so in tune with your surroundings. You're a little mean right now, but it's okay because Jake believes that he deserves this after avoiding you without any explanation.
"Answer me, Sim Jaeyun."
"Yes," he croaks, shame burning his face red. His eyes screw shut. The admission sets his being on fire, skin flushed from embarrassment. "O-Oh, God, y-yes."
He cracks one eye open when you don't reply. Instead, he's met with your fiery gaze. The edges have softened with lust, like you're also affected by this, but you're good at keeping your control.
Unlike him, who's unraveling like a loose thread under your touch alone.
Jake almost whines when you retract your hand, but the sound is muffled with a gasp when you yank the blanket open. He instinctively closes his crotch area with his hands, but you're fast to slap his wrists away.
"I'm so pissed off, Jaeyun," you mutter, swinging your leg over his thighs so now you're straddling him. You fix him with your sharp eyes, hand finding his dick again.
"You've been acting like we're strangers and it hurts me so bad."
Jake's mouth hangs open as you gather his precum and start working your wrist around his cock. His brain barely registers your words, too lost in a cloud of lust, but when he finally processes it, he desperately shakes his head.
He wants to apologise again and again and again, because he is truly sorry—he didn't know how affected you were. How could he not, when you're always described as everything out of his league, but he's always described as everything that doesn't fit your type?
"I'm sorry, I was just—fuck—just ashamed—" he gasps, hips bucking into your touch. "Didn't mean to—t-to hurt y—ngh, Y/N, faster please."
You coo at him, feigning sympathy as you set a ruthless pace on his cock. Jake is big—something that isn't a surprise anymore since that day you sat in his lap—but the sheer size of him is enough to make your mouth water and your panties damp.
Damn these nerdy boys. Acting all shy and innocent when they have this monstrousity hiding behind those ugly glasses.
"Faster? You wanna cum, Jaeyunnie?" you tilt your head. Jake nods frantically. "I don't think you deserve it, though. Why not ask from those girls you gave your number to?"
Something sharp twists in his stomach. Jake's eyes fly open, almost cowering when you give him a distasteful look. He grabs your arms desperately and shakes his head.
"N-No! She asked me first—" you put more pressure and Jake damn near loses his mind. "—said she needs—help—w-with Physi—cs—"
You roll your eyes. It's that easy to fool him? Can't he see the way those girls fuck him with their eyes? Without waiting for his sentence to finish, you sink down and take him in your mouth.
"Oh, fuck!" Jake screams, accidentally thrusting up his hips. He bites his lips, glasses crooked on the bridge of his nose as you take him deeper, tracing the line of his veins with your sinful tongue. "Oh, Y/N—please."
You hum around his length, tongue swirling as you hollow your cheeks to deepen the suction. Jake nearly busts from that alone, mind melting into a puddle of your name, the wet heat of your mouth serving as a better pleasure than his own hand.
You start bobbing your head up and down, marveling in the way the weight of his dick sits on your tongue. He's so big that you're so close to choking, but you don't care. You need to remind Jake how stupid he's been acting and how stupid he is if he thinks that you were not just as attracted toward him.
Jake sobs into his hands, hips jerking with every touch of his tip hitting the back of your throat. His head is getting dizzier, he can feel the coil in his stomach getting tighter and he knows that anytime soon, he will come undone on your skillful tongue.
But just as he's about to reach that high, you let go of him with a pop.
"No!" Jake whines, tears sliding down his cheeks. You're so mean. "P-Please let me cum."
"Not yet, nerdy boy." You mutter, red lips slick with saliva and precum. Jake can only sob, dick throbbing in need and desperation.
This is the punishment he deserves for being a jerk. He knows that, but he can't seem to stop crying. God, he's so pathetic.
Then he feels movement on his thighs. He blinks through the foggy lenses and lets out a breathless moan when you lift up your shirt and shorts and discard them away, leaving you in nothing but a pair of bra and panties. His mouth starts salivating at the display of your beautiful body, and Jake swears he almost cums when he sees that you're indeed wearing black panties.
Oh, fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Just as he imagined—God, you're so perfect he wants to kiss you.
But instead of a kiss, you push his at his chest instead. "Lie down."
And like the obedient puppy that he is, Jake follows your word, carefully descending his back onto the mattress. He's still sniffling from the previous denial, but now it's mixed with anticipation of what's to come when you hover above him.
You trace a gentle finger along the tall bridge of his nose, a barely-there touch that makes him shiver. With a slow tap on the tip of his nose, you finally speak.
"Did anyone ever ride your nose, Jaeyunnie?"
H-His nose?
Girls always compliment his nose, but he's never given it many thoughts as to why they did that. "N-No. Never."
There's a wicked smile on your face as you stand on your knees. Jake watches with a mouth gaping open as you make a show of shimmying down your panties, painfully and traitorously slowly that he almost rips it with his hand.
"Ah, what a shame," you sigh dreamily. "Guess I have to be the first one then."
Once your panties are out of the picture, Jake is instanly hit with a wave of your arousal. Your pussy glistens under the moonlight, soaked with slick and dripping with need. Jake inhales shakily, stopping himself from darting out his tongue to get a taste.
Fuck. He's sure he has actually died in the car and this is heaven because not even in his wildest dream did he get to have you like this.
Too lost in his reverie, Jake belatedly notices that you have removed his glasses. Despite your mean words and your mean actions, the caresses of your thumb on his cheeks are so gentle that he thinks he's hallucinating.
"You're so handsome, Jaeyun," you murmur. "But I bet you'll look better buried between my thighs."
You give him no time to recover from your crude words when you slowly move to straddle his head. Then, with a hand in his hair, you descend, letting the tip of his nose nudge at your clit.
And oh my fucking God—you smell so divine.
"Ah, Jaeyunnie," you moan, rocking your hips slowly to test the waters. "Your nose feels so good."
You sound even more divine. Jake's eyes roll to the back, savouring the way your sinful moans fall on his ears as you use his nose to get off. The bridge of his nose slides through your folds—wet and sticky and so sweet that he can't get enough of it.
Jake wraps his arms around your thighs to give you support, and another moan escapes your lips upon seeing his veiny arms around your supple skin. He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, groaning despite your cunt suffocating him, the vibration sending jolts of pleasure to your system.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—"
He can't breathe, and he can't hear properly from how hard you're clamping his head with your legs, but he can't deny that this is the best way to die. Being suffocated by your leaking pussy sounds like a dream death compared to dying in Jay's old SUV.
You keep your rhythm, rocking your hips back and forth, grinding your clit on his nose and dragging your folds on the tall bridge until the sharp tip of his nose catches at your hole. The grip you have in his hair hurts his scalp, but everything is worth the pain when Jake can watch you fall apart on his face, his own cock pulsing with a trembling need to cum.
"Ah—ah—Jaeyun oppa—"
Fuck. Fuck that sacred nickname.
The dynamics between you two often makes Jake forget the fact that he is indeed older than you. Coming from the States, it's uncommon for you to address people with such honorifics.
But right now, using that very honorific against him ignites something inside him; a carnal desire that's been thrumming low in his guts, waiting to be unleashed.
This time, Jake barely stops himself from stealing a taste. He darts out his tongue, prodding your hole with the tip, and hums in satisfaction when your stance falters slightly.
"Don't," you hiss, but there's no heat in it. Jake takes it as a sign to continue, licking more into your weeping cunt until your pace turns sloppy.
He doesn't care. You're probably gonna be so mad at him and punish him more, but whatever it is you have prepared can wait. Right now, Jake is having the best pussy of his life—barely breathing but still eating so, so fucking well.
"Jaeyun—stop—"
"No," Jake protests when you try to get up, pulling you down until the full weight of your body rests on his face.
Oh God, choking on pussy has never felt so good.
"Sim Jaeyun!" You squirm, feeling the stirring inside your belly getting wilder. Despite your weak attempts, your hips keeps grinding on his nose, showing no signs of stopping. You throw your head back.
You knew his nose would be the best thing to ride on, but hearing the slurps of your slick and his saliva—the sinful noises of him feasting on your cunt—makes you almost regret not letting him eat you out first.
"Ngh—Jaeyun—I'm close—"
Jake pulls your hips harder, letting you grind your clit on the tip of his nose as his tongue pushes into your hole mercilessly. You let out a high-pitched scream, muscles pulling tight at his ministrations. The double stimulations are fast pushing you over the edge.
Soon, white hot pleasure crashes into you, your vision turning black momentarily. It's so blurry and messy that you haven't realised that you've been screaming his name raw, hips unrelenting to chase the high. Jake swallows every drop of your sweet nectar, moaning into your spasming hole as he licks it clean.
Fuck. He's already desperate to have another round.
When you come down from your orgasm, hair matted to your forehead, you look down at him furiously.
"Let me go! I told you not to do it!" You attempt to sit up, but Jake doesn't let go, shaking his head with a pout. His nose and chin are drenched with your release, it's so sinful and filthy and you can't lie that you like seeing him so wrecked and fucked over like this.
"Can I have more? Please," he begs, kissing your inner thigh unhurriedly. He's already so addicted to the taste of you, Jake thinks he's gonna die if he doesn't have another fill. "I'll be so good to you, Y/N. Wanna eat you out so bad."
You grit your teeth, pushing away the temptation to save your pride. "No. Get up, Jaeyun."
But Jake is stubborn. He's so desperate to have more of you that he doesn't mind if he's leaving his own cock neglected and balls blue. "Please, I need it bad," he nudges at your pussy with his finger, pupils blown wide at the strings of sticky cum decorating your folds. "Fuck, please, Y/N, I want to eat you out."
"I said get up, Jaeyun."
"Y/N—"
"Jake."
The sharpness in your voice cuts through the haze instantly.
Jake stills immediately.
The desperation in his eyes flickers into something softer, more uncertain, like a scolded puppy finally realising he’s crossed a line. His grip on your thighs loosens at once, chest rising and falling hard beneath you.
The sound of his English name on your tongue feels foreign and almost painful, because it lacks the usual warmth and intimacy that your 'Jaeyun' usually holds. Yet, something inside him pulses harder, liking the change more than he'd like to admit.
“S-Sorry,” he whispers automatically, voice rough. “I just…”
He doesn’t even know how to explain it. How could he? That hearing you moan his name made him lose every coherent thought in his brain? That he’s spent days trying to stay away from you only to end up here, beneath you, completely ruined anyway?
You study him for a long moment before finally shifting off his face.
“Sit up.”
Jake obeys instantly.
The movement is clumsy and needy. His hair is a mess, lips swollen, face still flushed from lack of oxygen and desire. Without his glasses, his eyes look unbearably open like this—too honest, too vulnerable.
You cup his jaw gently, the touch losing its cruelty. Jake melts into it.
"There he is," you murmur softly, fixing his bangs that are obscuring his eyesight.
Jake can feel his heart stutter traitorously. This version of you—tender and sweet—a glimpse of the usual-you, is always more dangerous than any teasing.
Wordlessly, you tug at his shirt, and Jake obediently holds up his arms to let you peel away the fabric. Your eyes flick downward, amusement tugging at your lips.
"You know," you start, fingers trailing slowly down his sculpted chest, "for someone who acted terrified of touching me in the car…"
He groans softly, already embarrassed.
"…You were pretty damn desperate down there, Jaeyun."
His face burns hotter. Fine, he's just a touch-starved man, desperate for you in every way possible. But how could he not? Have you even looked at yourself?
"I-I can't help it…" His eyes drop to your lips. "You tasted so good."
A breathy chuckle escapes you, quiet and fond. But to Jake's ears, he's already hearing the wedding bells chime.
And suddenly the humiliation twisting in his chest eases into something warmer when you climb into his lap again, turning slowly until your back presses against his chest.
The exact same position. That fucking position in the car that has his mind on an endless frenzy that he thinks he was genuinely getting crazy.
Jake goes completely still beneath you.
“Oh,” you whisper, settling against him deliberately. “Now you’re quiet again?”
His hands hover uncertainly near your hips, like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you.
“You’re mean,” he mumbles weakly against your shoulder. You laugh, one hand patting his hair as the other one aligning his neglected cock on your entrance.
"But I know you like it, Jaeyunnie."
At the same time you presses on the nickname, you sink onto his cock slowly, letting the bulbous head of his length spear you open.
The both of you moan simultaneously. Jake's hands find puchase on your waist, trying his best to stop from manhandling you to just fucking bounce on his dick and letting you adjust. You, on the other hand, let the stretch burn, your walls spasming to accommodate his length.
"S-So big," you stutter, taking him inch by inch. Jake drops his head on your shoulder, his own breathing ragged. "So—full—"
When he finally fits inside you to the brim, you let out a long, drawn-out moan. He fills you up so good that you can feel every vein against your walls, every pulse kissing your insides. It's a dizzying experience that prompts you to start moving your hips.
Jake’s fingers dig into your waist, trembling.
Not because he wants to stop you.
Because he’s trying so hard not to lose himself completely.
The position alone is enough to send him spiraling—your back against his chest, your body in his lap exactly like the car ride, except now there’s no seatbelt digging into his side, no boys teasing from the front seat, no restraint left between the two of you.
Just you and him.
And the devastating realisation that you wanted him too.
Jake lets out a broken sound against your shoulder when you move again, his forehead falling against your skin. His entire body feels feverish, overwhelmed by too much sensation and too many emotions crashing into him at once.
"Wasn't this what got you so hard, Jaeyunnie?" You pant between breathless moans. "Me in your lap, bouncing on your cock like this?"
"Ngh—" A strangled noise escapes his throat. Jake watches with bated breath as your hands find the clasp of your bra and finally let the two soft mounds free. Now, he badly wants you to turn around, eager to relive the scene of your bouncy breasts in Jay's car.
"Did you not—ah—crave this?"
You arch your back, pleasure tingling every nerves as his cock drags against your walls. Jake feels his dick throb inside your hole, the same position that ruined him now had him completely at your mercy.
"S-So tight," he whimpers, mouth falling open at the way you clench around his cock and roll your hips. "S-So fucking tight, Y/N, fuck."
Jake clings onto you desperately, bucking his hips to chase your movement. But you hold down a firm hand on his thigh, completely in charge.
"Don't," you warn, grinding down on him in a way that makes your ass ripple. "Or I'll get up and leave."
Jake freezes instantly.
The warning slices straight through him, sharp and effective. His hands tighten on your waist, but he forces his hips back against the mattress despite every instinct screaming at him to chase you harder.
“O-Okay,” he breathes quickly. “Okay. Sorry.”
God, he sounds wrecked.
You can feel the way his thighs tremble beneath yours, the strain in his breathing every time you move your hips slowly against him. Jake drops his forehead between your shoulder blades with a weak groan, like simply holding himself back is physically painful.
"I'm still mad at you," you murmur. You roll your hips again, faster this time, and Jake nearly whimpers into your shoulder. His jaw clenches so hard he might pop a vessel.
"Are you sure you're not the one—" you moan, your thighs burning from how fast you're exerting yourself. The wet sound of skin hitting skin starts getting louder the harder you slam down your hips. "The one who's being—mean?"
Jake sobs into your skin, half-regretting, half-dizzy. The tight heat of your cunt pulses and flutters around his dick and he genuinely feels horrible for only thinking using his other head now.
Even so, he still manages to apologise again. "I'm s-sorry—"
You clench around him on purpose. Jake digs his nails deeper. "Fuck—"
"Stop fucking apologising," you seethe, voice trembling as you feel your release getting near. "Delete her number or I'll sit in Sunghoon's lap when we get back to Seoul."
There's no bite in your threat. It's just a spur-of-the-moment kind of things, one that you say just to rile him up.
But Jake takes your words like a verdict. He snakes an arm around your waist, lips worshipping your skin in desperate, wet kisses.
"I'm sorry, Y/N, darling," he begs, tears clinging to his lashes. He bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from moaning because he's so, so close. "I will block her. Fuck—I will delete her number. P-Please don't sit with S-Sunghoon—"
His speech is interrupted by a high-pitched whine. Jake hasn't come all night, he's nothing more than a thread waiting to snap. The moment you bounce harder and faster, the supple skin of your butt jiggling wilder, Jake can feel that he's about to come.
"Y/N—ah—p-puh—lease—" he whimpers, voice scratching at his throat. "'M close, 'm g-gonna cum—"
But he should've known that you're so, so mean.
The moment you lift off his cock, Jake genuinely sobs out loud, thrashing under you.
"No! No, please—" he chokes, hiding his crying face behind his hands, too shattered when his orgasm being denied again. "Please, no—I wanna cum, please."
You turn around and the sight of him—red-faced, wet cheeks, lips trembling—it softens your heart. You quickly pull his wrists and rest his hands on your hips, your own cupping his cheeks.
"I'm sorry, baby," you shush him, blowing kisses to the tip of his nose as you take him again. Jake whimpers quietly. "I'm so sorry—I'll let you cum this time, hm?"
Jake weakly nods, then lets out a soft moan at the familiar feeling of your walls enveloping him. You move again, already sore, but you no longer have it in you to torture your poor, poor Jaeyun. This time, you immediately begin with a fast pace, giving him a show of your tits bouncing with every thrust.
"Ah—fuck—Jaeyunnie—" you bite your lips, expression so erotic that it has the brown-haired boy drooling. "Glasses—like you better with glasses."
Jake is too dazed to register your words, so you pick the glasses on your own and put them on him. And there he is—your sweet, sweet boy, your Jaeyunnie that you adore so much, your Jaeyun that thinks it's bad for wanting you this much.
"S-So—handsome, Jaeyunnie," you roll your hips, chest arching into his face. "My nerdy boy, you're mine, hm?"
Jake physically cannot take it anymore. The sight of you on top of him, bouncing on his cock like your life depends on it, putting on his glasses and calling him yours—it's too much for Sim Jaeyun who's never been given this kind of attention and affection.
Especially from you.
His lips move, but you can barely hear him.
"Hm? What did you say?"
"I said I'm sorry, Y/N," his nails dig into your waist. "I'm so fucking sorry, please don't be mad at me."
Your brows furrow in confusion, but before you know it, Jake is already flipping you around, changing your position in one swift movement. You have half a second to gain your breath before the boy hovering over you pulls you closer by your ankles and throws your legs over his shoulders.
"I'm s-sorry," Jake stutters, slipping his dick back into your cunt and starts thrusting fast. "I-I can't hold it anymore."
Despite the showcase of his strength, Jake looks absolutely ruined. There's a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but from the pace he's railing you, you know that his lust ovverrides whatever little guilt he has.
Soon enough, the air smells so thickly of sex. The sound of his balls slapping your ass, accompanied by your high-pitched moans and his groans are the only one filling up the space, to the point that you're sure one of the boys must've heard you.
It's so hot and filthy that Jake's glasses are all fogged up again. His grip on your waist is now leaving bruises, but you don't care because all you can think of is Jake, Jake's big cock, Jake's stupid glasses and just Jake, Jake, Jake.
"F-f-f-fuck," he exhales shakily, splitting you open with his cock. "I-I'm so—close—"
You thrash around, fisting the sheets until it tears from the force of your nails. "Jaeyun—" you gasp when he keeps abusing that spot that has you seeing stars. "Oh, fuck—Jaeyun—harder—"
Jake leans forward, straining his arms on either side of your head. His glasses slide down his slick nose slightly when he bends down to capture your lips in his thick ones. You both moan into the kiss, finally getting the taste of each other, tongues already clashing for more.
Jake licks into your mouth, hips never faltering, and sucks on your bottom lip. You whimper, the sensation becoming too much until you're just breathing against his lips, all heat and teeth and saliva. Jake groans.
"I-I'm gonna—cum—" he gasps against your mouth, face scrunching in pleasure when you clench around him. "O-Oh my fucking God, Y/N, fuck—please let me cum inside."
His hands find your waist again, thrusting harder than before. His head drops to your shoulder as he begs, again and again.
"P-Please let me cum inside, please," he whimpers, voice needy and whiny. "Please—I'm gonna—I wanna—"
"Just cum," you moan when his teeth scrape against your skin. "Jae—Jaeyunnie—"
Jake groans. With last few, deliberate thrusts, he finally cums—a full-body orgasm that has him shuddering, his cock spurting out rope after thick rope of his release, painting your walls white.
You follow him just a second after, vision blurring for a moment as your second orgasm rips through your body. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, eyes rolling back from how delicious your climax is.
Jake takes a long moment breathing into your ear, grinding his hips slowly before he's finally pulling out. He hisses as he drags out his cock, careful not to overstimulate you, and watches in awe as white fluid flowing out of your pulsing cunt.
"Oh my fucking God."
You breathe out a laugh, sounding breathless and disbelieving. Seeing Jake sitting still by your legs, you open your arms toward him.
"C'mere, Jaeyunnie. Let's cuddle for a moment before washing up—I'm too sore to walk."
Jake perks up at that. Gone is the hungry, lust-driven boy a few moments ago, now replaced with the shy, kicked puppy holding his tail between his legs.
"Cuddle?" he echoes, unsure. "Are you not mad at me?"
"I could never be mad at you for too long," you reply, giving him a reassuring smile.
It gives Jake a flicker of hope. He scoots closer, still cautious and observing, like approaching a scared animal.
"But I avoided you…"
You drop your arms and pretend to think, making a show of tapping your chin with a finger.
"You're right. You were mean for that. Why don't you carry me to the bathroom and clean me up so we can cuddle afterwards?"
Hearing that, Jake finally relaxes, his tight muscles loosening. With an eager smile, he scoops an arm under your knees and your back, and then lifts you up easily as if you weigh nothing.
"Your wish is my command, my princess."
The next morning, you receive knowing looks from the boys. There are lingering stares on your neck from where Jake was mauling your skin last night, but you have no problem showing them off.
Jake, on the other hand, is on the edge of another breakdown.
"So, Jake," Jay starts, already planning a mischievous teasing inside his head. "How did it feel like to get railed—"
"I did not get railed!" he squeaks, ears blushing red. "I-I was the one who railed her! Right, Y/N?"
There's a laugh bubbling inside your chest as you watch Jake squirm under the relentless teasing of his friends. It felt good to be the one in charge, but after that display of strength and the way he manhandled you last night?
You don't mind having him on top of you.
But the both of you know who's truly in charge.
And if you choose to sit in his lap again, this time grinding and shifting on purpose that he gets hard until the car reaches Seoul, nobody has to know that.
GENRE/CW: smut (multiple scenes), angst, fluff, porn with plot, down bad hee, switch!hee, lowkey subby hee, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), lots of kissing, cunnilingus, blowjob, dry humping, fingering, sexting, phone sex, mutual masturbation, multiple orgasms, marking, crying. mentions of nicknames, messy feelings, lmk if i missed anything!
WORD COUNT: 24.7k words!
SYNOPSIS: Money can’t buy loyalty, and neither can years of friendship. After your boyfriend and your best friend decide to fuck each other behind your back, the only silver lining is Heeseung—the one person who looks as hollow as you feel. It begins as a petty revenge kiss and a no-strings situationship, but what will you do if it slowly turns into something dangerously real?
A/N: hihi loves <3 sorry for the wait, i had to edit a few scenes but here we are now, i hope you guys enjoy the fic, also i love jaem (sorry jaem), moon nics ricey cameo lets gaurrr <3 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <3
It really was a sight to see.
Your best friend pressed up against your boyfriend like they’d invented the concept of gravity, her hands shamelessly roaming under the hem of his shirt while his mouth dragged along the line of her neck.
No shame, not even a flicker of it. To the drunk, sweating crowd around them, it probably just looked like another hazy corner of the party—two bodies tangled in the dim lights, music blasting so loud it swallowed any guilt, if they cared to harbour any that is, but you saw everything.
To be more precise, you found out yesterday when they got bold enough to fuck each other at your boyfriend’s apartment, and oblivious enough to not notice your presence, or your low chuckle at the depravity of the situation. Instead of feeling mad, you felt that bone deep numbness. Why trust anyone at this point?
Emotionally unavailable, the label had never sounded so accurate, but was it truly your fault when you never felt the need to expect anything from him? It certainly was an experience faking your orgasms for him, but you cared on the deeper levels—well, till you found him balls deep inside your now ex best friend.
So you sat there now on the worn leather couch, legs crossed, drink dangling from your fingers, watching them like it was just another Tuesday night show.
“Oh hey—you’re here! Have you seen Mina?”
The voice cut through the haze of music and chatter, slightly breathless. You turned your head slowly, lashes lowering just a fraction as your gaze landed on Heeseung.
He stood a few feet away, tall and striking even in the crowd, dark maroon hair tousled like he’d rushed all the way here. His sharp jaw was tense, brows drawn together in mild confusion as he scanned the room. The leather jacket hanging off his broad shoulders caught the shifting lights, and for a moment, you wondered how he’d react to the news of his girlfriend in the arms of his best friend.
You tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, amused smile that didn’t quite reach your eye,
“yeah,” you said, voice smooth as you clicked your tongue, “right over there.”
You lifted your glass in a lazy gesture toward the corner, and Heeseung followed your line of sight. The shift in his expression was immediate and downright visceral. His eyes widened, pupils blown with disbelief as he took in the scene of Mina’s leg hooked shamelessly around his best friend’s hip, her mouth pressed to the underside of his jaw while his hands roamed with practiced familiarity.
The way they moved together spoke of stolen nights and secret touches—months, maybe longer.
“They’re cheating,” you added lightly, almost conversationally, as if commenting on the weather as you took a slow sip from your drink, “bold choice, doing it in plain sight like this. Guess they figured neither of us would actually show up tonight—I mean, I did mention I wouldn’t.”
Heeseung’s adam’s apple bobbed visible, a flash of hurt brewed behind his eyes, before it ignited this anger within him, “what the fuck—” the words slipped out rather hoarse, broken.
He didn’t really look at you, eyes locked on them as if he couldn’t look away. Before you could say anything else, he was moving, pushing through the dense crowd with single-minded intensity. You watched his retreating back for a moment, that same curiosity curling in your chest. It would’ve been a sight to stay and watch the fireworks, sure, but you just got up.
You wove through the crowd without hurry, heels clicking softly up the narrow wooden stairs, each step carrying you farther from the mess downstairs.
The upstairs hallway was dimmer, and at the end of it, the balcony door was wide open, letting the night air slip in. You stepped outside, pulling a cigarette from the pack tucked in your jacket, lips closing around it as you flicked your lighter.
First drag hit deep, filling your lungs with that bitter, familiar burn. You leaned against the railing, letting the smoke curl out slow between your parted lips, eyes half-lidded against the wind tugging at your hair.
For a minute, everything felt almost peaceful, comfortable even, then the door scraped open behind you, and Heeseung stepped out, breathing hard like he’d run the whole way up. His hair was messier now, dark burgundy strands falling into his eyes, and his face—god, his face was a wreck. Eyes glassy with everything he was trying not to feel, cheeks flushed, mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.
Without asking, he closed the distance in two long strides and plucked it right from your lips.
A surprised little chuckle slipped out of you before you could stop it, and you observed how he took a deep, shaky drag from where your lipstick had stained the cigarette, holding it in for long before he blew the smoke up toward the dark sky. His free hand gripped the railing tight enough that his knuckles went white.
“Fucking hell,” he rasped, voice rough, “how long? Just—tell me how long they’ve been doing this behind our backs.”
“Since at least yesterday,” you said, “I walked in on them fucking in his dorm, didn’t even have the decency to lock the door,” a faint smile ghosted your lips, “I just closed it again and left.”
Heeseung’s head turned toward you slowly, eyes wide with shock, the cigarette nearly slipping from his fingers, “you saw them and didn’t say shit?”
You shrugged, “what was there to say? They wanted each other, and I’ve never been the type to drown myself that deeply anyway. It just felt odd to see Mina do it, that part did affect me, years of friendship drowned for what? A guy.”
Heeseung let out a disbelieving huff, running a hand through his already tousled hair, “Jaemin was my best friend, man. We’ve been tight since freshman year—shared everything. And now this?” His voice cracked slightly, “feels like a fucking knife in the back from both sides. They looked guilty for a second but didn’t even bother following me here to explain themselves, though they did have the audacity to ask me not to tell you.”
You studied him for a moment through his ramble, the way the balcony light cast sharp shadows across his sharp jaw and the pained lines around his eyes. He looked devastatingly undone, yet there was something resilient in the way he stood there, refusing to crumble completely. The sight stirred a spark in your chest—that familiar free-spirited curiosity.
You passed the cigarette back to him after a puff, “people reveal their true colors eventually. It’s pragmatic to accept it and keep moving instead of letting it rot you from the inside.”
Silence stretched between you, thick with shared betrayal. Heeseung took another drag, then offered it back, his gaze lingering on your face with astute observation, like he was trying to peel back the layers of your calm detachment, he just couldn’t understand how you seemed so—unaffected?
You crushed the cigarette against the railing and flicked it into the night. That proactive restlessness bloomed brighter inside you, eyes gleaming with mischievous insight.
“Wanna do something fun?” You asked.
Heeseung blinked, lips parting in surprise, “fun? Like right now?”
“Mhm,” you stepped closer, “are you okay with a kiss, Heeseung?”
His breath hitched audibly, throat bobbing, “a—a kiss?” The word came out hoarse, almost stunned. His gaze dropped to your mouth, lingering, before snapping back up, cheeks flushing darker, “you serious?”
“Very,” you held his stare, “yes or no?”
“Isn’t that cheating?” He looked devastatingly clueless even mumbling that question, and you raised your brow.
“Yes or no?” You asked again.
He searched your face, the raw pain still churning, but something hungrier kindled beneath it—curiosity. After a beat, he gave one slow nod making you chuckle.
You took his hand and led him back down into the party’s suffocating crowd, and he followed without asking any questions. In the corner, Jaemin and Mina were still shamelessly entangled, her arms looped around his neck, his hands possessive on her hips.
You stepped straight into their space without hesitation, grabbing Jaemin’s arm to pull him back.
The sharp crack of your palm across Jaemin’s cheek echoed through the room, his head whipped sideways. Mina stumbled back with a gasp as the crowd around you froze, then erupted in murmurs and the bright flare of phone screens.
“What the fuck?” Jaemin snarled, clutching his reddening face, eyes blazing the instant recognition hit, “w—wait, Y/N?”
Mina’s face drained of color, “we—we didn’t think you would show up tonight—”
You desperately wanted to laugh, but you maintained your character, cause how were they dumb enough to think that you wouldn’t find out, especially when Heeseung did too.
“Clearly,” you said, getting ready to lie beautifully, “Heeseung told me everything. How long have you two been fucking behind our backs?”
Whispers exploded outward. Jaemin fumbled for excuses, mouth opening uselessly.
“I didn’t expect this from you Mina,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek as tears started forming in her eyes.
“No—listen to me, we didn’t—”
“Whatever,” you continued, a crystalline laugh escaping you, “be happy with each other, I’ll find someone better.”
You turned away from their frozen faces, and Heeseung stood right there, looking completely wrecked. Your eyes met his, like really met them. For a second everything else including the stares, the phones, the bass—faded into background noise.
He looked at you like you were the only person left in the room, and maybe to him, you were.
You stepped in close, sliding your hands up his chest. His heart was pounding under your palms, doe eyes full of trust and anticipation for what was to come. Heeseung’s breath caught, but he didn’t move away. His hands found your waist almost on instinct, fingers spreading wide and warm through your clothes, before pressing in to hold on tighter.
His gaze dropped to your mouth before flicking back up, nodding slightly as he understood the question you asked him earlier.
Which is why you tilted your head and kissed him.
You slotted your lips against his rather softly, just to test him at first. His mouth was warm, faintly tasting of smoke and the drink he’d had earlier. He froze for half a second, stunned at the easiness of it all, then let out this quiet, broken sound against your lips and kissed you back.
The kiss turned deeper fast, hungrier. Your tongue brushed his and he groaned low in his throat, the vibration rolling straight through you. You slid one hand into his hair, tugging lightly at the strands, while the other stayed fisted in his jacket, pulling him closer. Heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened almost painfully so, one arm wrapping further around your back to press you flush against him. His chest rose and fell hard against yours. You could feel every shaky breath, the way his fingers trembled just slightly where they dug into your sides.
It was messy, a little desperate. Tongues sliding, breaths mixing hot and uneven, the faint wet sound of it somehow louder than the music behind. He kissed like he was pouring every bit of hurt and anger and sudden want into you as you took it all, giving the same right back.
When you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, Heeseung was completely gone. Lips swollen and shiny, chest heaving like he couldn’t catch his breath, eyes dark and hazy like his brain had short-circuited. A wrecked little sound slipped out of him, half-gasp, half-groan—as he stared at you, dazed and breathing hard.
Your smile embodied satisfaction as you leaned in again and pressed one slow, teasing peck to his parted lips, letting it linger just enough to make his breath hitch all over again.
Jaemin and Mina were staring like they’d seen a ghost with their jaws dropped, faces pale, eyes wide with pure disbelief. The whole party had gone dead quiet around you, everyone watching, phones still pointed your way like this was the best drama they’d seen all year (it probably was).
You laced your fingers with Heeseung’s, gave his hand a light squeeze, and tugged him toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here,” you murmured close to his ear, voice low and a little playful against his skin.
Heeseung didn’t argue, just followed, still breathing hard, fingers gripping yours tight as the door swung shut behind you.
The cool night air hit your heated skin, and for the first time tonight, everything felt wide open again.
A rather loud screech right next to your left ear woke you up, and you wondered if the world had somehow been corrupted by zombies because there’s no other explanation for such sounds, but your friend made it possible somehow.
You jolted, heart kicking once before your brain caught up. Sunoo was practically jumping beside your bed, phone in his hand, “one time—one single time I decide to stay in and catch up on sleep and you create a fucking scene? Gosh, babe.”
Winter shoved the door the rest of the way open with her shoulder, hoodie sleeves pushed up to her elbows, hair still a wild mess from her deep sleep. She planted herself at the foot of your bed, arms crossed, eyes narrowing at you, “fuck, Y/N,” she said before her tone got softer, “are you okay? I fucking knew that girl was a snake from the first time she came over. And your boyfriend? I always hated him, al-fucking-ways.”
You were still blinking, eyes half open and not willing to adjust to the brightness. Right then, a chuckle escaped your lips at the memory of last night—and you tried to remember the last time you felt so satisfied (maybe never?).
Sunoo dropped onto the edge of your mattress without waiting, “I always said we are your besties. The kind who’d help you hide a body, no questions asked. Ride or die, baby.”
You sat up straight, blanket pooling around your waist, and opened your arms because of course they were right, “come here, idiots.”
They didn’t hesitate, Winter climbing on first, wrapping her arms around you like she could shield you from the whole damn world. Sunoo piled on top a second later, all limbs and very dramatic sighs, squishing the three of you into a tangled heap of familiar warmth.
“Yeah,” you murmured into Sunoo’s shoulder, voice muffled, “you two are stuck with me.”
Winter huffed a soft laugh against your neck, “good, because we’re not letting you deal with that snake ex-bestie and cheating ex-boyfriend shit alone. We’re burning that chapter together.”
Sunoo’s voice came out muffled too, “and—we’re keeping the video forever, that kiss looked cozy girl, what else did you do—”
You let yourself sink into the warmth for a long moment, the bone-deep numbness from yesterday easing just enough to let something real and grateful slip through. The sting of Mina’s betrayal was still there, but it felt distant now—almost coherent in its simplicity.
People drift apart, friendships end. You’d always known that. What intrigued you more was how easily these two could make the weight feel lighter, their amiable chaos wrapping around you like a promise that some things indeed were here to stay.
Meanwhile, Heeseung was suffering.
Jay had shoved his phone into Heeseung’s face, close enough for him to make out, uh, absolutely nothing. It seemed like a blurry mess of lights until Jay yanked it back to show Heeseung a pixel version of you grabbing his jacket and pulling him into what appeared to be a passionate kiss.
The angle caught the exact moment his hands found your waist, the way his shoulders had tensed then eased up all at once. Heeseung’s ears burned red so fast it felt like someone had lit a match under his skin.
“Bro,” Jay said, grinning, “the video is everywhere, especially on the uni insta page for students. Someone made it into a trend—it’s actually insane.”
Before Heeseung could even form a coherent thought, the bedroom door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame, scaring both the boys.
Jake came barreling in, hair still sticking up from sleep, eyes wild, “you bitch—you kissed Y/N? She’s mine—I called dibs on her months ago!”
Heeseung groaned, dragging both hands down his face, “she’s not an object, Jake.”
“Oh fuck you—you know I like her,” Jake shot back, dropping on his knees.
Sunghoon strolled in next, casual as ever, one shoulder propped against the wall. He let out a low whistle and Heeseung wondered what the fuck is wrong with his friends, “so you’re what? Dating now? That was one hell of a plot twist.”
Jay sniggered, not even trying to hide it, “nah dude, you think he can handle someone like Y/N?”
Jake tried to butt in again, “I can—” but the rest of them talked right over him like usual.
Heeseung sat up slowly, the full reminder of the last night coming right back to him. The slap echoing through the room, the way you’d looked at him right before you kissed him, eyes bright with that reckless spark. The way he’d kissed you back like he enjoyed it. He swallowed hard, throat tight.
“Did I cheat on Mina?” He asked quietly.
The room went still for half a second, all three of them looked at him like he’d grown a second head. Jay let out a disbelieving laugh, “she cheated on you while you were still together.”
“Yeah but I kissed someone else literally a few minutes later—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Sunghoon cut in, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Heeseung stared at the blanket pooled over his lap, replaying the kiss again—the heat of your mouth, the way your fingers had twisted in his hair, that soft, teasing peck you pressed to his lips after. It had been the best kiss he’d ever had. The whole situation felt far too complicated for the simple labels his friends were throwing arounf, and yet he couldn’t stop the memory from looping behind his eyes.
Jay sighed, softer this time, leaning back on his elbows, “did it feel good?”
They all looked at him. Heeseung didn’t answer right away, he just swallowed again, the memory burning behind his eyes like it refused to fade.
You on the other hand were absolutely not functioning when Sunoo had a trillion questions lined up for you—all of which consisted of Heeseung. You three had just managed to make coffees when the loud knock interrupted you. A sigh was all you could manage as you opened the door to find your pathetic excuse of an ex standing there with—roses? Wow, he didn’t even have the decency to remember that you were allergic.
He spoke up before you could, “I know i deserved that slap.”
Well, obviously.
“I messed up—I swear I don’t want her.” He was looking at you with that pout he mustered whenever you both had disagreements.
You bit down your laugh, “yeah? So?”
“Take me back, baby, please?”
Right then someone flew past the door, and your mouth hung open as Sunoo straight up landed a kick on Jaemin’s thigh, resulting in him falling down with pain. Now, you laughed freely as Sunoo bent down to warn him, “stay away from her, okay?”
Jaemin turned to look at you, eyes wide, “what—”
“You heard him, we’re over, Jaemin,” you shrugged, wrapping your arm around Sunoo as you both walked inside, Sunoo glaring at man till the door closed shut.
Jaemin stayed on the ground for a few more seconds, roses scattered around him, a thorn making him bleed just enough for him to roll his eyes.
That went well.
The afternoon sun filtered softly through the leaves of the uni garden, casting dappled shadows across the wooden bench where you sat. It had been three days since the party, and the campus still hadn’t let either of you forget it. Random students kept approaching you in the hallways, the library, even the coffee line—some offering awkward condolences, others straight-up calling the slap and the kiss badass with wide-eyed admiration.
You sipped your mango matcha slowly, the garden was quiet now, just the distant hum of students walking between buildings and the soft rustle of leaves overhead. You felt normal, jolly even, like it hadn’t affected you, but even you couldn’t deny how good of a kiss it had been.
Too lost in the pdf in your iPad, you didn’t notice Heeseung approaching until his shadow fell across your lap. He stopped a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, hair still slightly messy and he somehow made it look good.
“Hey,” he said, voice polite as it had always been, “can we talk?”
You looked up, lips curving into an amiable smile, “sure, c’mere sit,” you patted the empty space beside you on the bench and held out your mango matcha toward him, “want some? It’s good.”
Heeseung only cocked his brow, “same straw?”
You blinked innocently, “you’re saying that as if we didn’t make out in front of the entire party three days ago.”
He stared at you for a moment, intrigued cause of your carefree answer, before he reached out and took the cup anyway. He drank without hesitation, the straw brushing his lips where yours had been moments ago, and when he lowered it, the corner of his mouth twitched.
You chuckled, watching the way his shoulders loosened just a fraction, “so—talk, what’s on your mind, Heeseung?”
He handed the cup back, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary, “I’ve been thinking about that night. A lot.” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, but his eyes stayed on yours, “the kiss, the way you just handled everything. I keep replaying it and I can’t make it make sense.”
You tilted your head, taking another slow sip before answering, “what’s there to make sense of? They cheated, we both saw it. I decided not to let it ruin my night and you were there. The kiss happened—simple.”
He let out a short, disbelieving breath, running a hand through his hair, “It’s not simple for me. Mina was my girlfriend, Jaemin was my best friend since freshman year. And so much happened in like—an hour,” he paused, eyes searching your face, “did it really not mess with you at all?”
You shrugged, “It stung a little actually. Losing Mina as a friend after all those years felt kinda—odd? But drowning in it? Not really my thing.” Your lips curved again, “i’ve never been the type to hand my whole heart over and expect it to stay put.”
Heeseung watched you for a long moment, “you make it sound so coherent,” he muttered, almost to himself, “like it’s all just—logical. Meanwhile I’ve been walking around campus getting stopped by random people asking if we’re together now. It’s been three days and I still feel like my head’s spinning.”
You laughed lightly, “same here, a guy offered to buy me coffee because I deserved better, It’s weirdly entertaining.”
Heeseung’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, the first real one you’d seen from him today, “yeah, even my friend Jake was sort of, how do I even put it? But yeah, he wasn’t thrilled, hes got some crush on you.”
Your eyes sparkled, “wait, isn’t he the cute one with an accent? I like him.”
He shook his head at how you would probably encourage Jake, the thought was rather unsettling, then looked at you again, more serious, “but, y’know—the kiss, that part wasn’t just for show.”
That made you pause for a moment, and you held his gaze, intrigued by the way he was looking at you—like he was trying to figure out how someone could be so calm in the middle of the wreckage.
“So what are you saying?” You asked, voice soft but direct, “you regret it?”
“No,” he answered almost immediately, “I don’t regret it, that’s the problem. It felt good and I keep wondering what the hell that means when everything else is such a mess.”
You leaned back against the bench, letting the sun warm your face for a second, “it doesn’t have to mean anything big, I mean—we both got screwed over.” You watched how pretty he looked under the sunlight, lips slightly red cause he’d been biting them, “maybe we don’t overthink it. Maybe we just—just see where it goes.”
Heeseung took the cup again, fingers brushing yours once more, and this time he didn’t pull away right away, “you’re really okay with that?”
You smiled, “I’m okay with a lot of things, Heeseung. Especially if they feel good.”
Neither of you said anything more for a moment. The conversation didn’t need to be solved today, for now, sitting here with him, sharing the same straw and the same tension, felt like enough.
Heeseung has always been a man of few words, but even those little words seemed to disappear when you were around. And the worst part? You weren’t even aware of it.
You weren’t the one to intrude on anyone’s personal space, and that included Heeseung, much to his relief (or dismay?), he was just—confused.
A week had slipped by since the garden talk, and the quiet tension between you two had only grown heavier. He’d spent the days avoiding Mina’s messages, the knot in his chest tightening every time her name appeared. But you—you were everywhere. In literature class you sat three rows ahead, never together, but he stared. He couldn’t stop noticing the way the light caught the curve of your neck when you leaned over your notes, the soft way your fingers tapped the edge of your pen, the small, absent smile that played on your lips when something in the lecture amused you. Every stolen glance left him more tangled than the last.
Tonight the restlessness had won. He pulled on a hoodie and walked to the 24-hour convenience store near the dorms, craving something mindless like his ride or die—ramen to quiet the noise in his head.
The annoyingly white lights buzzed overhead as he stepped inside, grabbing a basket and turning down the snack aisle, mind still half-lost in yesterday’s class when you’d stretched and your shirt had ridden up just enough to—
He stopped just then, cause you were right there,
standing in the middle of the aisle in soft pink pajama shorts that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs and a matching oversized hoodie that had slipped off one shoulder, you looked unfairly soft and warm, like you’d just rolled out of bed. Your hair was a little messy, and you were reaching up for a pack of strawberry gummies, the hem of the shorts riding higher with the movement.
Heeseung’s mouth went dry, and he wanted to slap himself for acting like a fucking creep.
You turned at the sound of his footsteps, eyes meeting his across the narrow aisle. A slow smile curved your lips, the same one that had been haunting him for days.
“Hey,” you waved at him, like running into each other at midnight in pajamas was the most normal thing in the world, “couldn’t sleep either?”
Heeseung swallowed, stepping closer despite the way his pulse kicked up. The faint scent of your shampoo clinging to your hair, “needed ramen, the boys emptied the fridge I swear,” he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.
You nodded in understanding, “same lowkey—was staring at the ceiling but then decided to get out.” You tilted your head, looking at him a little closer, eyes tracing the tired lines on his face, “you look like you’ve got a lot going on up there. Want to talk about it while we walk back?”
Heeseung hesitated for half a second, then nodded, “yeah, sounds good.”
You paid for your stuff together, the cashier barely glancing up, and stepped back out into the cool night air. The walk was easy at first, with absolutely no words being exchanged, your shoulders brushed every few steps, Heeseung kept his hands in his pockets, but he could feel the warmth of you next to him, the soft brush of your hoodie sleeve against his every time you shifted.
“Been a week,” he said after a few minutes, “Mina keeps texting, and of course I haven’t answered. It feels weird ignoring her, but answering would feel worse.”
You hummed, glancing at him sideways, “I get that. Sometimes the easiest thing is just to let it sit there until it stops stinging, y’know?” Your arm bumped his again as you walked, and you didn’t pull away, “you holding up okay with all of it?”
He just nodded, granting you a smile which made the corner of your lips lift up too, and he asked you the same, to which you laughed as if nothing had even happened.
It was so nice just walking beside you, even in silence, at this cursed hour of midnight, though Heeseung would argue and say that he felt more awake now than he did the whole day.
The dorm buildings came into view too soon, but then Heeseung saw something that made his steps falter on the pavement, body going rigid right beside you. It made you follow his line of sight, and of course—Mina was there, walking straight towards his building, head down and mind completely focused on her phone. She hadn’t noticed you yet, but it was clear that she was going to approach Heeseung.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, panic flashing across his features in a way you could feel it reach you too.
Before you could provide him with two words of comfort, his hand slid around your waist, fingers spreading wide and warm through the thin fabric of your hoodie. He pulled you in close, so close that your side pressed flush against his, the heat of his body juxtaposing the chill of the air. His palm was steady but his fingers trembled a little against your hip as you caught the faint scent of his cologne, it was clean and woody, just how you liked it.
“Play along, please?” He whispered urgently against your ear, voice rougher now.
You only chuckled, leaning into him as if you’d done it before, slipping your arm around his back, fingers resting lightly against the small of his back. Your head tilted up towards him, a soft smile curving up as you looked at him. Heeseung was flushed cause, damn were you good at acting.
“Got it,” you murmured back.
Mina looked up at the exact moment, eyes widened at the sight, a gasp leaving her lips as she watched Heeseung’s hand slide lower on your back as you reached his dorm door.
You didn’t even realize you were biting your bottom lip until Heeseung’s gaze dropped straight to it, his breath hitched, thumb pausing on your cheek as his other hand came up to cup your face, warm palms cradling your jaw like he was afraid you might pull away.
“Can I?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes searching yours.
You didn’t answer, just leaned in, closing the small gap between you, and pulled him into the kiss.
Your lips met his softly at first and Heeseung made a quiet sound against your mouth, his hands cupping your face fully now, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he kissed you back. The taste of him was faint, a hint of the cherry juice he must have had earlier. Your own hands slid up his chest, fisting lightly in his hoodie as you tilted your head to kiss him a little deeper.
When you finally pulled back, Heeseung’s eyes were dark and a little dazed, lips parted and cheeks flushed. His thumbs were still stroking your cheeks, reluctant to let go.
Mina stood frozen a few feet away, face pale, cause she swore to herself it was an act, but this? It didn’t seem like one.
Heeseung didn’t look at her, just tightening his grip on your waist and guided you through the door, pulling you inside with him. The warmth of his palm stayed glued to the small of your back the whole way, steady now, like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
Inside the apartment, Jake was sprawled on the couch in the living room, a half-eaten pizza box open on the coffee table, some mindless show playing low on the TV. He froze mid-bite when he saw you, eyes going wide.
You smiled, bright and completely at ease, like showing up at this hour with Heeseung’s arm still around you was the most normal thing in the world, “oh—hey. Jake, right?”
“Y/N? Uh yes—hi, you’re here?” Jake stuttered, making Hee roll his eyes.
You just walked over to him, dropping onto the couch beside him acting all normal though your heartbeat said otherwise, “yeah! Mind if I steal a bite?”
Jake blinked, then grinned like an idiot and lifted the slice he was holding right to your mouth, “here, go for it.”
You leaned in and took a bite straight from his hand, cheese stretching between your fingers as you chewed, “mhm, this is actually good, thanks.”
Jake’s face lit up even more, “right? You can have the whole slice if you want.”
Heeseung stood there watching the whole thing, jaw tight. He lasted about five seconds before he groaned low in his throat, “alright, that’s enough.” He crossed the room in two quick strides, caught your wrist gently but firmly, and tugged you up from the couch, “c’mon.”
You let him pull you up, giving Jake a little wave over your shoulder, “night, Jakey. Thanks for the pizza.”
Jake just waved back, still grinning, “anytime!”
The second Heeseung’s door clicked shut behind you, silence filled the room—it was dim, lit only by the desk lamp, the air suddenly too warm and too small. Heeseung’s back pressed against the door, eyes dark and fixed on you before he walked over and plopped on his bed.
You clicked your tongue, tilting your head at him, “now she’s gonna think we’re dating.”
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, looking genuinely sorry, “yeah—I know. I’m so sorry—I just panicked and pulled you into this whole thing. You didn’t have to go along with it.”
You shrugged, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. Then, without warning, you turned and sat right down on his lap, straddling his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world. Heeseung’s breath caught, hands instinctively landing on your hips to steady you, eyes wide with surprise.
“I did kiss you first at the party,” you said, “so it’s kinda my fault too.”
Heeseung’s fingers flexed on your hips, holding you there. He gulped, throat bobbing visibly as he looked up at you, “so, now what?” he asked, voice rough.
You shrugged again, still sitting comfortably on his lap, fingers playing with the collar of his hoodie, “it’s your call, Hee.”
You kept talking as Heeseung pondered deeply about his choices. He didn’t register you saying something about how Jake’s face was priceless because Heeseung wasn’t listening anymore. His eyes had dropped to the exposed line of your clavicle where your hoodie had slipped down, tracing the smooth skin there, then moving up to your lips—still a little shiny from the greasy pizza, slightly parted as you spoke. The way you were sitting on him, the soft weight of you on his thighs—it was too stimulating for him.
He didn’t say anything, just leaned in and kissed you hard, mouth practically crashing into yours, one hand sliding up to cup the back of your neck, the other staying firm on your hip to keep you right where you were. There was nothing hesitant about it this time—it was hungry, deep. His tongue brushed yours, and he groaned quietly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips. You could feel the way his fingers tightened in your hair, the way his chest rose and fell fast against yours, the way his body reacted instantly to having you on his lap like this.
You kissed him back just as hard, hands sliding up his chest to fist in his hoodie. A soft moan slipped out of you when he sucked on your bottom lip, and Heeseung made this low, wrecked sound in response, hips shifting under you.
“Fuck,” he breathed against your mouth, barely pulling back, “this okay? Tell me if you want to stop.”
You shook your head, lips brushing his as you answered, voice already breathy, “don’t stop—keep going.”
He groaned and kissed you harder, tongue sliding against yours as one hand slid under your hoodie, palm warm on your bare back. You rocked your hips down against him and he moaned into your mouth, the sound raw.
You pulled back just enough to speak, forehead resting against his, “we doing this then?” You breathed against his lips, “no strings, just whenever we want or need?”
Heeseung swore you could read minds, “yeah,” he sighed in pleasure, “I want that—you and me, no strings.”
You smiled against his lips and kissed him again, deeper, grinding down slowly, “good fucking boy.”
He groaned louder, the sound vibrating through you as his fingers dug into your thighs, “shit—I’ve been so fucking pent up,” he muttered between kisses, hips rolling up to meet yours, “all week because of you.”
You moaned softly, rocking against him again with a chuckle, “that’s adorable, keep going, yeah? Don’t stop.”
He flipped you suddenly, laying you on your back and settling between your thighs. The new position made you both moan—the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, lips chasing yours mindlessly as his tongue slid against yours, hand tracing higher under your hoodie, hips grinding down slowly.
“God, you feel good,” he muttered, pulling you down for another kiss.
You nodded, moaning softly into his mouth, “so do you.”
The room filled with the sounds of lips, heavy breathing, and quiet moans as you kept moving together, hands roaming, bodies pressing closer. The conversation faded into breathy words and soft sounds between kisses, and honestly, both of you didn’t care about much anymore. You both were just two horny adults functioning on a verbal agreement with no rules whatsoever.
Outside in the living room, Jake had just taken another bite of pizza when the first loud moan drifted through the door. His eyes widened with betrayal—the slice slipping from his fingers and landed cheese-side down on the floor with a pathetic splat.
He stared at the closed door for a long second, mouth still full.
“Well—shit.”
You didn’t know that the consequences of spending one night with Heeseung could be so dire, granted you didn’t go beyond some innocent humping which bestowed you with the absolute pleasure of seeing Heeseung desperate and flushed underneath you.
The question bugged you—why would Mina even wish to leave such a beautiful man who’s very willing to provide pleasure?
You were still turning that over in your head as you walked down the hallway, iPad tucked under your arm, one AirPod in, but your mind was elsewhere—which was odd considering you never were the kind to just stand and ponder about random things, during the day time at least. The last time it happened was when you were a kid and Zayn had left One direction.
Regardless, you chuckled at the idea of Heeseung being the one to garner your attention, since you never saw him in that light before—something about friends’ partners being inanimate to you. Either way, you started walking back towards your dorm since the lectures were over, only to be stopped by Mina blocking your path with a scowl on her face.
You raised an eyebrow, “hey?”
“We need to talk,” she huffed, looking rather tired, maybe with the way people stopped the second they sensed any drama, and why wouldn’t they? You both were the centre of it given the circumstances.
“Do we really?” You gave her a lazy look, knowing well it bothered her.
Her jaw clenched. “You kissed Heeseung. In front of everyone. While he was still with me.”
A couple more heads turned. You could feel eyes on you now, phones probably already sliding out of pockets.
You let out a short breath, almost a laugh, “while he was still with you? That’s rich. Last time I checked, you were the one fucking my boyfriend in his dorm with the door wide open. I walked in on you two, actually. So maybe don’t lecture me about cheating.”
Mina’s cheeks flushed, “that’s not the same—”
“It kind of is,” you cut in, keeping your voice even, “Heeseung didn’t deserve to find out like that, neither of us did, but at least I didn’t sneak around for months like a coward. And yeah, I kissed him—I’d do it again. He’s too good for the way you two treated him.”
Mina’s eyes flashed with anger, “you’re no better than me. You basically cheated too—”
“Bro, are you actually serious right now?”
A tall guy with messy black hair and a skateboard tucked under his arm stepped out from the edge of the crowd. You’d seen him around in a couple electives. He looked Mina up and down, completely unimpressed, having seen the scene at the party in flesh too.
“Everyone’s seen the video,” he said, loud enough that the people nearby nodded, “I literally saw you and Jaemin at the party. You’re the one who cheated, leave her alone.”
A girl a few feet away nodded like she agreed. Mina glanced around at all the stares, lips pressed tight, then spun on her heel and shoved through the crowd, practically running toward the exit.
You let out a real laugh this time, almost like you couldn’t believe this was real, that your own friend would turn against you in such a manner. Riki turned to you, one corner of his mouth lifting.
“Damn,” he said, “that was satisfying.”
“Yeah,” you agreed, still chuckling as you started walking again, “thanks for stepping in. You really didn’t have to.”
He shrugged, falling into step beside you, “she’s been trying to change the perception, i saw her lying to my friend earlier. Someone had to say it. I’m Riki by the way, or Ni-ki, whatever.”
“Y/N,” you said, bumping his shoulder lightly, “seriously, I owe you a coffee for that.”
“Bet,” he smirked, already pulling his phone out, “just text me whenever. I’m free most afternoons.”
Ten feet away, half-hidden behind a cluster of students, Heeseung had stopped dead in the middle of the hallway. Jay almost walked straight into his back, headphones on so conveniently, he missed the whole commotion.
“You good?” He asked, lifting one side of his headphones, “Heeseung?” He asked yet again when he didn’t get a reply.
How would he? When Heeseung was deep in thoughts, the tips of his ears red. Everyone knew he was the guy who kept to himself, not the kind to insert himself into a fight—eventually leading to him never getting into a situation where he’d have to defend himself.
But you did it so naturally with not a single hint of him witnessing the scene. It was heartwarming to say the least, the way you defended him so casually but your tone clearly portraying the care you harboured for him, even if it was little (as per Heeseung and his never ending self doubt).
Before Jay could wave a hand in front of his face, Jake came barreling around the corner like he was late for everything in life, backpack slipping off one shoulder. Without missing a beat he lunged forward, locking an arm around Heeseung’s neck and yanking him down into a tight headlock.
“Spill it right now—the hell did you do with Y/N last night, huh? I’m not letting go till you talk, dude, I swear to god—”
Much to his dismay, Heeseung pushed him off with ease, “the fuck? Get off,” he said, staring at Jake who looked like he hadn’t slept at all.
Jay was completely lost, headphones now resting on his neck, “what am I missing here exactly? What even happened?”
Heeseung groaned, “nothing happened—”
“Nah, he took Y/N to his room and then I heard moans. Moans—do you fucking get it? He’s actually fucking her.” Jake ranted, eyes blown wide.
Jay’s eyebrows shot up, “wait, what? For real?”
Heeseung shoved Jake off properly this time, cheeks burning as he fixed his hoodie, “It’s not—fuck, can you not yell that in the middle of the hallway?”
Jake threw his hands up, looking genuinely offended, “I’m sorry, I was trying to eat pizza and process the fact that my dream girl was getting railed by my roommate. You could’ve at least given me a heads-up, man.”
Jay let out a low whistle, finally catching on. He crossed his arms, which had gotten muscular somehow, “so, you and Y/N? Like, actually?”
Heeseung rubbed a hand over his face, ears still red, “we have an arrangement of sorts. No strings attached, that’s it.”
Jake stared at him like he’d been shot in the chest, “no strings? She deserves love, she deserves aftercare and pampering and—”
Jay was never good at hiding his amusement, especially if it consisted of embarrassing one of his friends, “you sure you can actually do the no-strings thing? You’re the guy who gets attached after one good conversation. Remember that girl from school who just smiled at you in the library and you were googling how to ask someone on a date at two a.m.?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Heeseung muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched with his mind drifting back to you.
Jake however, wasn’t done. He threw his hands up again, “I’m serious, I even fucking dropped the pizza slice she ate from.”
Jay snorted, “you’re never gonna let that go noq, are you?”
“Never,” Jake said, dead serious, “that could’ve been our indirect kiss.”
Heeseung shook his head, finally starting to walk again so they wouldn’t be late for class, “It’s fine. We’re both adults, it’ll be okay.”
Jay fell into step beside him, clapping him on the back a little too hard, “yeah, okay. Keep telling yourself that, I give it ten days before you’re buying her flowers and writing her name in your notes with hearts around it.”
“Two weeks,” Jake corrected, still sulking, “max.”
Heeseung didn’t bother arguing. He just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept walking, the stupid little smile refusing to leave his face completely.
You, meanwhile, had no idea any of that chaos had just exploded behind you. You groaned, sitting down on the couch, despising the silence that greeted you. Winter had gone to her family home for her cousin’s wedding, and Sunoo had conveniently decided to spend the night over at Hoon’s to torture him with some horror movie.
And you were here, unsure of what to do tonight, and the newfound interest you’d found within your ex’s best friend.
Whatever this was, it was definitely going to be interesting.
Turns out, the night wasn’t about to be boring at all. You had just gotten under the warmth of your duvet as your phone lit up, a text brightening your lock screen. Evidently, you seemed to be lurking in Heeseung’s mind as much as he had started persisting in yours.
Heeseung: you up?
You: that’s such a fuckboy question
Heeseung: oh shit i didnt mean it that way
You: hm? what’s it then
Heeseung: js felt like texting
You clicked your tongue, rolling to your side, phone propped up against your fluffy pink pillow.
You: mhm sure
You: what are you doing rn then
The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, then popped up again—a proper reminder of how Heeseung’s personality shone through even through his texting patterns.
Heeseung: just lying in bed
Heeseung: can’t sleep for some reason
A second later your phone vibrated with a picture, a selfie to be precise. It was rather cinematic how Heeseung appeared to look even prettier with dim lights, messy dark hair falling into his eyes, no shirt, just the chain he always wore catching the light. He looked way too good for someone who was just lying in bed, lips slightly parted and swollen like he’d been biting them. The angle showed the sharp line of his collarbone and that adam’s apple, a few marks evident on his skin, courtesy of you.
You stared for a second longer than you meant to, completely zoned in how beautiful a few marks made him look.
You: oh wow
You: don’t you look dashing at one in the morning
Heeseung only let out a breathy laugh, clearly preening under your praise, as if he hadn’t clicked eight pictures just so he could send you the most perfect one, in his standards at least.
Heeseung: your turn
The corner of your lip twitched up as you sat a little, tugged the neckline of your oversized tee down just enough so the soft swell of your tits spilled over the fabric, nipples barely hidden. You angled the camera, snapped it, and hit send without overthinking, knowing that the reply would come within seconds, and so it did.
Heeseung: fuck
Heeseung: you’re actually evil
You laughed under your breath and sent another one right after, taking off your tee fully, letting him know how hard your nipples had gotten already.
You: now you. don’t be shy baby
Heeseung sent back a shot of his hand shoved down his sweats, gripping himself. The outline was obvious, the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband, flushed and already leaking. Then another one—his hand mid-stroke, thumb smearing the precum over the head. A low, rather shaky breath left his lips in the process, and he swore he hadn’t ever been the type to be so—so evidently horny before.
You’d say you bring out the worst in people, but Heeseung would contradict it with a goofy smile saying how it’s the absolute best. With that thought, he hit sent.
Heeseung: this is what you do to me
Your mouth went dry, the picture being enough for you to spread your legs under the duvet, only to push the duvet away entirely before angling your phone properly to ensure the slick on your cunt would be visible in the picture.
You: see what you’re missing?
Heeseung: jesus christ i’m actually throbbing
You bit down on your bottom lip, absolutely letting the pleasure of having Heeseung in control take over. So, instead of texting back, you tapped the voice message button and held it down.
Your voice came through low and teasing, a little breathy already.
“Aw, poor baby, you’re throbbing just from a picture? C’mon, lemme hear how good it feels, hm?”
You sent it without thinking twice, and he was quick to listen, his dick twitching just as he heard your voice. A few seconds later his voice message came back—husky, a little embarrassed, but clearly turned on.
“Fuck—you’re so mean,” he whispered, which almost came out as a whine, “I’m so hard it hurts. I’m stroking it slow at first, like this—” You could hear the faint, wet sound of his hand moving, “but I keep thinking about how wet you looked in that last pic. Want my mouth on you so bad right now.”
You caressed your clit gently, letting your head fall back at his not so shy admissions. It was hot how he didn’t shy away from speaking his mind.
“Hmm, good boy—keep stroking just like that. Faster now, I want to hear how desperate you sound for me. Tell me exactly what you’d do if you were here.”
His next voice message was even shakier, breathing heavier.
“I’d pull you on top of me, let you grind on my cock while you tell me how you want it. Fuck—I’d let you use me however you want. I’d suck on your tits while you ride me, make you moan my name louder, please take my name, please?”
You let out a soft, breathy moan right into your reply.
“Yeah? You like when I boss you around, Heeseung? Touch yourself exactly how I would. Tighten your grip—I know you’re close already, aren’t you?”
Heeseung’s voice cracked in the next voice note, barely above a whisper.
“Shit—yeah, I’m so close, your voice is driving me insane. Ah, fuck, wanna bury my face between your thighs right now—”
You were breathing harder too, fingers moving faster. You sent one last voice message, letting your voice be sultry.
“Then cum for me, Hee. Let me hear it. I want you moaning my name when you do.”
That did it for him, he could barely even keep the phone in his hand, shivering at the hyper awareness of it all, of you.
Somehow, you knew exactly the predicament he was undergoing, and you decided to spare the poor man, hitting the call button to free his hands. He picked up after a single ring.
“Fuck—you’re actually perfect,” he panted, the wet sound of his hand still audible. “I’ve never been this gone from just voice messages before.”
You laughed softly, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a quiet moan, “then don’t stop. Stroke it faster for me, yeah? Be good, I want to hear every sound you make while you think about fucking me.”
Heeseung groaned, clearly trying (and failing) to stay quiet because of his friends, who were in the living room. “Feels so good but it’s not enough—I keep imagining you riding me, telling me to go harder, shit,—”
“You’re doing so well,” you praised, clenching around your fingers as he moans out your name, “imagine it’s my pussy instead of your hand. I’m so fucking wet for you right now. You’d slide in so easy, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah—fuck, I would,” he whimpered, “I’d let you use me however you want. I’d let you choke me while you ride me, I don’t even care anymore—”
You moaned louder, fingers curling just right, “yeah, yeah, just keep talking like that and I’m gonna cum, be good c’mon, you’ll cum with me, yeah?”
Heeseung’s breathing turned ragged, desperate little sounds slipping out, “i’m so close—gonna—fuck, Y/N—”
You came first, moaning his name all soft and filthy into the phone. He followed right after with a choked groan, trying to muffle it against his pillow but failing miserably, and god knows what would happen if Sunoo (who was there all thanks to Sunghoon) was to witness this.
For a long moment the only thing between you was heavy breathing.
Then Heeseung let out a soft, wrecked little laugh, making you grin lazily, “you did so well, Hee.”
He didn’t expect that, making him whine again, and you swore you could run to see him all flushed and blushing, “you’re so perfect.”
Your breath hitched at his whispered words, gulping as you stayed silent, letting your breathing even out. He was quiet for a beat too, but his mind wasn’t stopping at that.
“Hey, uh I saw what you did earlier, in the hallway, with Mina.”
You blinked, surprised, “wait, you were there?”
“Yeah. I was a little further back, but i heard everything.” His voice dropped, almost like he was in awe, “the way you shut her down for me—defended me like that without even thinking. It was really fucking hot. Couldn’t stop thinking about it all night, that’s why I texted you.”
You let out a low chuckle at how unpredictable he was, “so that’s the real reason you were sending me nudes and moaning my name like a desperate little slut at one a.m., huh?”
If praises led Heeseung to moan, the degradation caused him to cry—not in a bad way of course. It was new for him too, as if he was learning about himself through you. And the voice you heard was beautiful, a broken cry of his desperation.
“I see you’re into degradation,” you pointed out.
“Fucking hell, even I didn’t know,” he breathed out, eyes closing.
You only smirked, getting closer to the phone now.
“Wanna test how it plays out?”
“Why the fuck did Hoon just tell me you’re fucking Heeseung?”
It was rather hard to distinguish his tone when he sounded both impressed and mad. Turns out, he was mad since he didn’t hear it from you first, then, he was impressed with how fast you moved on. Regardless, he didn’t let you live that down, trying to force the group together, only to see Heeseung squirming and you being absolutely normal.
You were sitting cross-legged on your bed, still in the oversized hoodie you’d thrown on after your morning shower, when Sunoo burst through the door, Winter followed, sipping an iced latte and looking far too amused for someone who was supposed to be your emotional support. And so another interrogation session took place, which you survived (somehow).
Other than that, things had been normal. A few changes did occur such as you all having lunch together, even Winter invited her girlfriend, making the group seem livelier than ever. Jake made it his mission to sit next to you each time, and Heeseung—well, he stared at you more than he ate.
That pattern followed you straight into your English lecture later that afternoon. You slipped into your usual seat in the middle row, barely five minutes late, when Riki dropped into the chair right beside you, and you looked up at him, surprised.
Heeseung walked in later, eyes on how you greeted the guy easily, and with that, he almost walked into someone. He could only manage to groan, because why wouldn’t you talk to him? To be fair, you did talk to him, like a friend, but never more, no initiation of any sort. Heeseung was the one who texted first, and he didn’t mind, but with how soft hearted he was, he probably wouldn’t mind you texting first either.
That being said, Heeseung was basically sulk incarnate watching how you made plans to give Riki a coffee for some reason—was it a date? Why would you even like that tall kid? Heeseung knew you better despite the little time he spent with you. It was a given that you didn’t offer much about yourself despite your outgoing personality, but he did know how you played with your nails, how your eyes go wide when you eat something good, and how fucking good you sound moaning his name.
“We’re all going to the cafe,” Sunoo chirped the second you stepped outside after the class, Heeseung following behind to see all his friends standing there too.
You did find it odd how he was silent today, too silent, even worse when he didn’t try to initiate any conversation with you, just falling into step with his friends instead. His hands were shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, shoulders a little hunched as the group started moving.
Halfway there he slowed down just enough to tug Jay’s sleeve, voice low and trying way too hard to sound casual, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”
Jay only raised his brow, urging him to continue, “uh, so when we sit down, maybe ask Y/N something that’ll get her talking, like the stuff going on in her life, just anything.”
Jay stopped dead for half a second, then let out a loud, wheezing laugh that practically bounced off the buildings. The sound was so sudden and genuine that you actually turned around mid-conversation with Karina and Winter, eyebrows raised like you were trying to figure out what was so funny. Jay just waved you off, still cracking up as he clapped Heeseung on the back a little too hard.
“You’re actually hopeless,” Jay wheezed, trying to keep his voice down but failing miserably, “just talk to her yourself, what the fuck.”
Heeseung shoved him off, cheeks hot, “shut up, man. Just—just do it, okay? Please.”
They caught up to the rest of the group right as you all reached the café. The usual corner table was free, so everyone piled in. Jake, of course, immediately dropped into the seat next to you like it was his assigned spot now. Heeseung ended up straight across from you, eyes meeting yours, but this time, he didn’t look away. The corner of your lips twitched seeing him this way, and soon, he found himself smiling fondly too.
Jay sat there as a witness to Heeseung’s internal breakdown, and well, happiness caused by two seconds of your undivided attention. In the midst of it all, everyone gave their orders, famished beyond words for some reason. The table was lively still, Jake trying to initiate conversations with you, even though Heeseung had not so subtly kicked him under the table to shut him up.
Jay waited until there was a small lull, then leaned forward with that lazy grin of his.
“So Y/N,” he said casually, like it was no big deal, “what’s the deal with you and Heeseung lately? You two been hanging out a lot or what? He’s been weirdly smiley these days.”
Heeseung’s heart did a stupid little flip, face clearly trying to play it cool, but his eyes were glued to you, waiting.
You took a sip of your drink and shrugged, knowing that if you say anything remotely wrong, Sunoo and Winter would be on your ass about it, “it’s nice hanging out with him, he’s funny.”
Jay snorted at how Heeseung’s smile widened, “funny, huh? That’s all you’re giving us?”
Before you could answer, Jake jumped in, mouth full of his cup ramen, which he somehow got into the cafe, “god, I shouldn’t have gotten Shin, I’m telling you, nothing beats Buldak. You team Buldak too, Y/N?”
Jake immediately turned to you with those big puppy eyes, “c’mon, tell him he’s wrong. Buldak or nothing, right?”
Sunoo and Sunghoon couldn’t even stand this, staring at Jake with the same expression of disgust, his fascination for you was genuinely funny.
You looked up at Hee, who waited for your answer with shiny eyes, then back at Jake again. Maybe teasing Heeseung wouldn’t hurt, right? Especially when he looked so innocent and serious about your input as if it mattered.
“I mean, Buldak is definitely good,” you agreed with Jake, taking another sip of your mango matcha.
Jake beamed at the reply, bumping your shoulder. But Heeseung’s smile faltered for a second, and you almost frowned, not expecting him to surrender, “yeah, fair enough,” he muttered, staying silent the rest of the time, eyes flicking up to you every few seconds, while you observed him openly.
Jay only sighed, and somehow Winter was just as exhausted at the exchange, because Heeseung couldn’t hide his feelings to save his life, and you?
You were missing the point of this little conversation entirely.
When everyone finally started packing up for their next lectures, the group split off in different directions. You noticed Heeseung hanging back a little, hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders still hunched as he walked alone. With a chuckle, you jogged a couple steps, and grabbed his hand.
Heeseung startled hard, eyes going wide as he looked down at your fingers laced with his, and how perfect your new acrylics looked, the touch being enough to make a shiver go up his spine, “Y/N—?”
You only walked further, swinging your joined hands, “why so silent today?” You asked, looking up at him with a brow raised.
He let out a small breath, eyes flickering back to where your thumb brushed his knuckles, “it’s nothing, just thinking I guess.”
“Hm, about how I picked Buldak over Shin?” You tilted your head, “you got all quiet after that. Kinda cute, actually.”
Heeseung glanced away, the corner of his mouth twitching despite himself, “It’s not that, but Jake looked happy, so—yeah.”
“Shin’s my favourite actually, I only said Buldak to see you fight back, but yeah,” you shrugged with a smile.
Heeseung’s head snapped back toward you, surprised, “wait, really?”
“Yeah. Remember that night we ran into each other at the convenience store? You were grabbing Shin too, I noticed.” You pointed out, “and you barely ate anything at the café either. Come over later? We can have ramen together.”
Heeseung’s steps slowed at the implication, and it showed on his face, mixed with the fondness of the simple fact that you noticed such little things. He wasn’t the kind of guy who needed grand gestures, yes he’d appreciate it, but the little things mattered more.
“You—noticed that?” He asked quietly, almost shy.
You hummed, then leaned up on your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear, “you can eat something else too if you want.”
That sent him into this mode of short circuiting, and before he could even form a reply, you let go of his hand with a bright, mischievous laugh and took off running ahead across the path, glancing back at him over your shoulder with that same playful grin.
Heeseung stood there for half a second, face burning, your words looping in his head like a damn song on repeat. Then a big, flustered smile broke across his face and he took off after you, knowing he’d catch up to you in no time.
“Fuck,” he yelled, half-laughing as he chased you down the walkway, “you can’t just say that and run—get back here!”
He really hoped it could always stay this easy with you.
You fell on your mattress with a thud, the springs creaking under the sudden weight of both of you. Heeseung landed right on top, chest pressed to yours, mouth already chasing yours in a hungry, desperate kiss that tasted like the faint strawberry from his drink earlier.
His lips were hot and insistent, tongue sliding against yours like he couldn’t get close enough, letting out every bit of his frustration into this kiss. One of his hands shoved under your hoodie and straight into your shorts, two fingers gliding through your slick folds before pushing inside you without hesitation. You gasped into his mouth, thighs falling open wider as he curled them deep, stroking that spot that made your back arch clean off the bed.
“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he breathed against your lips, and you only sank in further, kissing all the way down to his neck, letting an open mouthed kiss linger on his adam’s apple, feeling it blobbing under you as he gulped in need, as if parched.
Heeseung let out a shaky groan, fingers stuttering inside you for a second before he doubled down, thrusting them deeper, curling harder, “shit—you’re gonna make me lose it just from that.”
You smiled against his throat, sucking lightly, then dragged your teeth over the same spot while your hand kept working his cock in slow, tight strokes. He was throbbing in your palm, hot and slick with precum, hips twitching every time your thumb swept over the head, and you almost moaned cause he was big.
But it wasn’t enough, you wanted him under you, wanted to watch him fall apart.
You pushed at his chest, flipping him onto his back in one smooth motion. Heeseung let out a surprised grunt as you straddled his thighs, yanking his pants and boxers down just far enough. His cock sprang free, flushed dark and glistening, curving up against his stomach.
Wrapping your fingers around his base as you leaned in to give his tip a slow kiss, making him moan shamelessly, “wait—you don’t have to,” he managed to let out.
You looked up at him, lips brushing the wet slit as you spoke, “I know, I want to,” you whispered, “been thinking about having you in my mouth since you were sulking on the way here, just to apologize, y’know?”
Heeseung’s breath hitched, “god—you’re serious?”
Instead of answering, you took him in, lips stretching around the thick head, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you sank down. The taste of him filled your mouth, salty and warm, and you moaned softly around his length.
“Shit—baby,” Heeseung’s hand flew to your hair, holding on like he needed something to ground him, his thighs tensing under you, “your mouth feels—so fucking good.”
You hummed in response, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your throat. You relaxed around him, swallowing, and he let out a broken groan, hips twitching up before he caught himself.
“Sorry—gosh I didn’t mean to,” he whispered.
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips shiny, a thin string of spit still connecting you to him, “don’t apologize. Fuck my throat if you want to.” You stroked him slow and firm, eyes locked on his, “I can take it, I want you to use me.”
Heeseung’s eyes darkened. He’d never done this before, sure he’d gotten blowjobs, but the permission to take in full control of it? Oh, he swore he was gonna die, “you’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.”
You chuckled and sank back down, taking him all the way until your nose brushed his stomach. You held there for a second, throat fluttering around him, before you started moving, wet bobs of your head, hand twisting around the base.
Heeseung’s head fell back against the pillow, a wrecked moan spilling out, “fuck, fuck—oh my god.” His fingers tightened in your hair, not forcing, but guiding you a little now, testing the waters, “you like this? Being on your knees for me?”
You moaned around him in answer, the vibration making his hips jerk. You pulled off with a gasp, spit dripping down your chin, “I like when you stop being so polite and just take what you want.” You licked a slow stripe up the underside, eyes never leaving his, “you’re always so sweet, Hee, but i also know how desperate you are, won’t you show it to me like a good fucking boy?”
Heeseung’s breath stuttered, it was almost like a switch flipping. His grip in your hair tightened just a fraction more, and when you took him back in, he let himself thrust up a little, shallow and careful at first.
“Like this?” He asked, voice strained, “tell me if it’s too much.”
You pulled off just enough to speak, lips brushing the head, “Harder, I can take it. Use my throat, baby.”
The words seemed to break something in him. He groaned deep in his chest and started moving his hips with more purpose, fucking into your mouth in short, needy thrusts. You relaxed your throat and let him, moaning encouragement around his cock every time he pushed deeper.
“Fuck, fuck—you’re so good,” he panted, voice cracking, “so fucking good at this. Look at you—taking me so deep.” His free hand came down to cup your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek while he watched himself disappear between your lips, “I didn’t know I liked this so much, watching you choke on me.”
You moaned louder, the praise and the way he was starting to lose control making heat flood between your legs. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking harder, and Heeseung’s head tipped back again, a string of curses falling from his lips.
“Baby—slow down or I’m gonna cum,” he warned, but his hips kept moving, like he couldn’t stop himself, “you’re really gonna let me cum down your throat?”
You pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him fast and tight, lips hovering just over the tip, “let me taste you.”
Heeseung’s eyes rolled back as he came with a broken moan of your name, hips jerking as he spilled down your throat in hot pulses. You swallowed every drop, working him through it until he was trembling and oversensitive, little whimpers slipping out every time your tongue moved.
When you finally pulled off, lips swollen and shiny, Heeseung was staring at you like you’d rewired his brain. His chest was heaving, hair sticking to his forehead, eyes dark and hazy.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered, voice shot, “I didn’t know I could like something that much.”
You wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumb, smirking as you crawled up his body and kissed him slowly, letting him taste himself on your tongue.
“You’re learning fast,” you murmured against his lips. “and we’re just getting started.”
So, you were true to your word, because by the time you both stopped, all breathless and spent, it was nighttime. In the midst of everything, you both had managed to fall asleep tangled with each other. Heeseung was the one to wake up first, caressing your cheek as he stared at how peacefully you slept in his arms.
He stayed like that for a long minute, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek, watching the way your lashes rested against your skin. Something heavy settled in his chest—not regret exactly, but a quiet, gnawing guilt that refused to leave him alone.
Carefully, he slipped out from under you, tucking the blanket around your bare shoulders so you wouldn’t get cold. He padded over to the window on quiet feet, pushing the curtain aside just enough to look out at the dark sky. The campus lights glowed faintly in the distance, stars barely visible through the city haze.
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the cool glass, exhaling slowly. What the fuck am I doing? The thought looped in his head. He’d loved Mina—or at least he’d told himself he did. They’d been together for over a year. But even on the best nights with her, he’d never felt this—free, this wanted. With you, you didn’t ask him to be anything other than exactly who he was in the moment, needy, desperate, a little mean when you pushed him, soft when you let him hold you after. Just a hint of your attention made his chest feel too full and that scared the shit out of him.
Because he’d sworn he loved Mina. But this? He wasn’t even sure what to name this feeling anymore, and it felt dramatic when nothing had even happened, just freedom and the best pleasure he’d ever experienced.
The floor creaked softly behind him, making him turn his head to find you sitting up in bed now, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep. Without saying anything, you reached for his hoodie that had been tossed on the floor earlier and pulled it over your head. It swallowed you, the hem brushing your thighs as you padded over barefoot to stand beside him.
You leaned your shoulder against the window frame, looking out at the same dark sky. For a moment neither of you spoke.
“You okay?” You asked eventually, voice soft.
Heeseung, however, was in deep thoughts of silent appreciation, because you looked beautiful, you always did, “yeah,” he let out a quiet breath, “I feel like an asshole for even saying this out loud, but—I don’t remember it ever feeling this easy with Mina, even when things were good. With you it’s just different. Like I don’t have to pretend or hold back or be anyone else. I don’t know. That probably sounds stupid.”
You stayed quiet for a second, then bumped your shoulder gently against his, “it doesn’t sound stupid. You’re allowed to feel whatever you feel, Hee, it’s valid. You don’t owe her anything anymore, and you don’t owe me some perfect version of yourself either, okay?”
“You’re too nice to me,” he mumbled.
You smiled, looking elsewhere for a moment as you gulped, “that’s what friends are for,” you let out.
Heeseung turned to look at you fully, friends, is that what you were? Because friends don’t do all this. So, Heeseung only managed to muster one question, hoping the reply would be enough of an action to understand if he was truly alone in this or not.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper with the hope to earn even something as little as a nod.
This means something more, you thought. This isn’t just sex anymore, not for him. Truly, Heeseung wasn’t even the kind to do this, so why did he agree to this? You wouldn’t mind being a rebound for him but him getting attached would be a problem. Would it really, though? You should’ve said no, but you found yourself being entranced by the beauty in his eyes.
So, instead you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his bare chest, and tilted your face up to his, “yeah,” you whispered, “you can.”
Heeseung’s breath caught as he cupped your face with both hands, thumbs brushing your cheeks like you were something fragile, slotting his lips onto yours almost achingly gentle, this almost felt like a question and an answer all at once to him.
When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he let out a shaky little laugh, pecking the corner of your mouth once.
The reflection on the window catching on everything you both were too afraid to admit.
Honestly, the fault was yours for not discussing the boundaries or making one of those contracts like they do in the movies or books (though they never work), cause now, you and Heeseung had been hanging around way more often, some witnesses might even confuse this intimacy for dating.
Maybe Heeseung was one of them, because when he texted you to come over, you half expected sex, not sitting alongside him learning League of legends at two in the morning. He was unpredictable to say the least, but he did wear his heart on his sleeve, so you could see the bits and pieces of the things he craved, and right now, he craved your time.
You didn’t mind giving it to him, but it did come with a cost. The second you walked into the room, eyes widening at this small corner of the desk where a mango matcha, a few blue walkers, and a pack of Ferrero Rocher was placed neatly, alongside two packets of cup noodles (just in case).
To Heeseung, it was normal, and you would have agreed had it been some synonym of aftercare, but no. It was just Heeseung being absolutely willing (and needing) to spend more time with you outside of your fancy little arrangement.
He had opened the door with a smile so contagious, you mirrored it as he led you inside. A small corner of his desk was full of snacks, a cup of matcha which he knew was your favourite, a couple of Ferrero Rochers because he saw you eating those during the English lecture. You stood there for a second longer than intended, staring at it all, then at the man who had already made himself comfortable on the spare chair, waiting for you with the same gentle smile he always carried around you, making you gulp for a second before you returned it.
“C’mere? Sit with me,” he said, patting his main gaming chair right next to him, and he half expected you to tease him for doing this, “I swear I’m not trying to be weird, and if you don’t wanna do this we can stop, or you can make fun of me.”
You let out a quiet huff of a laugh and kicked your shoes off before sliding into the chair beside him. Your knee bumped his under the desk and you left it there, the contact warm even through your clothes. Heeseung rolled his own chair closer right away, leaning in from behind you so his chest brushed lightly against your back, one arm resting along the back of your seat while the other reached around to the mouse, and you didn’t notice how he took in your scent with a dreamy sigh.
“We’re playing League of Legends?” You asked, and he nodded.
“Have you played it before?” He asked a little hesitant that you’d say you don’t wish to play or indulge in this.
“Nope,” you said, reaching for the matcha because your mouth suddenly felt dry. The cup was ice-cold, condensation dripping down your fingers as you took a sip, “I’m probably gonna suck at this, just so you know.”
Heeseung let out a small laugh, relieved that you aren’t opposed to this, “that’s fine, we can start from the basics,” he covered your hand with his on the mouse, guiding you through the first clicks. “You just run at people and spin when they get close. Super easy, I promise.”
His fingers were warm over yours, almost careful like he was scared you’d pull away. You felt the way his chest moved against your back when he breathed, the faint brush of his hair against your neck every time he leaned in a little closer to see the screen better.
You clicked around awkwardly and Garen just kind of—stood there swinging his sword at nothing, “this feels dumb,” you muttered, but you were smiling a little, “I look like a robot trying to dance.”
Heeseung bit his bottom lip at the sheer joy of having you play his favourite game, even though you looked lost, confused, and too adorable, “you don’t look dumb. You look cute as hell trying to figure it out.” He squeezed your hand gently and moved the mouse for you, making Garen run forward. “See? Just click on this, okay?”
You tried it and Garen spun like a big metal tornado, actually hitting a couple of the little enemy guys, “oh okay, that was kinda fun,” you admitted, biting your lip to hide the grin. You reached for one of the Ferrero Rochers with your free hand, unwrapped it, and popped it in your mouth. The chocolate melted sweet and crunchy on your tongue, “how’d you know I like this.”
Heeseung shrugged, his shoulder rubbing against yours, “I pay attention to you, sue me.” He took the half you offered him without hesitation, biting it right from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin for a second too long.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the little flutter in your stomach at how brutally honest he was. He pays attention, he set all this up just so you’d feel comfortable doing something he likes. This isn’t what you signed up for, this is him wanting you around, not just in his bed. Stop feeling it. Stop.
The game kept going, as you died a bunch—running straight into the big tower like an idiot, getting smacked by random enemies—but Heeseung never made you feel stupid about it. He’d just lean in closer, chin resting on your shoulder now, arm wrapped a little tighter around the back of your chair, and murmur stuff like, “try backing up a tiny bit next time, yeah?” Or, “you’re getting the spin down though, that last one actually hit three of them, nice.”
You passed him chips from the blue walkers packet, your fingers brushing his every time. He took them without pulling away, crunching quietly while his other hand stayed on the mouse with yours, guiding you through another wave.
Heeseung couldn’t say this out loud but boy was he thrilled. It felt so nice, so domestic to do something so simple with someone (you). He couldn’t help but compare, simply because he didn’t know the basic possibilities of the relationship universe, though you weren’t in one. His ex never spared time for such things, indifferent about his interests, while you were so—sweet.
“You’ve done this before? Teaching someone like this, I mean?” You asked after a while, “or am I getting special treatment?”
Heeseung went quiet for a second, then let out a breathy little laugh against your neck, “special treatment,” he admitted, no hesitation, “and no, it’s my first time teaching anyone.”
You leaned back into him a little more without thinking, the warmth of his chest solid and comforting against your back, the kind of solace that you had never had the pleasure of experiencing before. Was it supposed to be this easy?
The snacks slowly disappeared between you—another Ferrero passed back and forth, the mango matcha cup getting lighter with every sip you took. Heeseung kept talking about random shit that had nothing to do with the game. How Jake had stolen his last ramen again, how he stayed up last night thinking about if aliens eat solid food, or if the Thestrals from Harry Potter can see each other or not.
You told him about the fanpage you had at fifteen, he listened like it was the most interesting thing ever, thumb stroking slow circles on the back of your hand the whole time.
At some point the first game ended. You were still pretty bad, but you weren’t frustrated anymore. Heeseung’s arm had stayed around you the whole time, his chin heavy on your shoulder, breathing warm against your skin.
He didn’t queue another match right away, instead he just sat there for a second, arms loose around your waist, like he was thinking.
“C’mere,” he murmured, voice a little rough as his hands slid to your hips and he tugged you gently, pulling you straight off the spare chair and into his lap like it was the easiest thing in the world. Your back settled fully against his chest, thighs bracketing his, his arms wrapping around you properly so he could still reach everything if he wanted. The chair creaked once under both of you. You fit too well, way too well.
He rested his chin back on your shoulder and clicked into another custom game like nothing had changed, but his arms stayed tight around your waist, like he didn’t want to let go.
“What are we doing, Hee?” You asked in a low mumble.
Heeseung went still, arms locking tighter around your waist like the question had burned him, he was afraid you’d bring it up and that’s exactly what you did. You felt him swallow hard, breath shaky against your neck.
He opted to answer with his actions instead, turning your face toward him with one hand and kissing you, lips pressing firm like he’d been dying to do it. His tongue slid in right away, tasting like chocolate and the mango you’d been sharing all night. He made this quiet, embarrassed little sound in his throat and kissed you harder, fingers sliding into your hair to hold you there.
You tried to pull back half an inch, though absolutely feeling your heartbeat fastening at how good the kiss, the warmth felt, “Hee, wait—”
He chased your mouth instantly, cutting you off with another kiss, deeper this time, tongue lazy and filthy against yours. His hand slipped under your top, palm hot and a little unsteady on your bare waist, thumb stroking slow circles like he needed to feel your skin to stay sane. He was breathing hard through his nose, cheeks burning against yours, but he wouldn’t let you speak. Every single time your lips parted he was right there again, kissing you quiet, desperate and messy like talking would ruin whatever this was.
“Bed,” he mumbled against your mouth. He stood up with you still in his lap, hands under your thighs, and carried you the few steps across the room. The second your back hit the mattress he was on top of you, settling between your legs and kissing you again before you could even breathe.
This time it was slower but no less intense. His tongue moved against yours in these long, deep strokes while one hand pushed further under your top, palm flat on your stomach, sliding up until his fingers brushed the edge of your bra. His other hand stayed tangled in your hair, tugging gently every time you tried to talk. He was so fucking flustered—ears red, breath shaky, little embarrassed groans slipping out whenever you rolled your hips up into him—but he still wouldn’t let you ask.
Every time you opened your mouth he swallowed it with another kiss, and you groaned, pulling him into you deeper, letting him showcase his feelings through whatever this was, and you understood it, but couldn’t stop it or ask any further, because you knew he’d deflect as if it scared him.
As if the only answer he could give was this.
You were decent at saying no, in fact, some might even admit how good you were at it, blunt as fuck. But that ability was limited to the world and it most certainly didn’t apply to this glorious six foot tall man who wished for you to join him at the basketball court. You could have made up some excuse, maybe tell him you have a lab report due, but you didn’t do that—because you wanted to go.
“This is getting ridiculous,” said Winter, watching you change into a loose t-shirt and old shorts, “you hate sports. You once told me basketball was just a bunch of giants running in circles. Now you’re rushing out at night because Heeseung said come watch me play? And you’re dressing up the part too?”
You shrugged, tying your hair up, “It’s not that deep. I’m bored.”
“Sure, tell yourself that,” she mumbled with her brow raised.
Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong, but you didn’t care much as you made your way out towards the court which was lit up by some harsh floodlights, looking over to find some guys already deep in the game. You could spot Heeseung, Chenle, Beomgyu, and Sunghoon—t-shirts sticking to their backs.
Nics (Chenle’s girlfriend) and Moon (Sunghoon’s girlfriend) were already on the bleachers with their chaotic friend, Ricey, who always carried snacks in her bag. The second they spotted you, Nics waved you over with a grin, patting the spot next to her.
Heeseung was mid-dribble when his head snapped in your direction, the ball bouncing once before he caught it against his hip. Even from across the court you could see the way his face softened, that small, stupidly genuine smile breaking through like usual. He lifted his free hand in a quick wave.
“Yo, Y/N’s here!” Chenle shouted, grinning like an idiot as he wiped sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt, “perfect timing, let’s do girls versus boys now.”
Nics hopped off the bleachers first, already pulling her hair up, “final-fucking-ly. Come on, we’re making this four on four.”
Moon laughed and stood up too, nudging Ricey, “you in or are you just gonna sit there eating chips the whole time?”
Ricey popped another chip in her mouth before standing, “I’m in, but if I break a nail I’m blaming all of you.”
You didn’t get a chance to sit as you got dragged into the court. Heeseung jogged over to you, still breathing a little hard, hair messy and damp. Up close he smelled like sweat and that familiar woody cologne, and the way he looked at you made you shiver.
“You actually came,” he breathed, grabbing your arm without thinking much at all.
“Couldn’t let you embarrass yourself alone,” you replied, stealing the ball from his hands just to mess with him. He laughed, eyes crinkling, and for a second it felt like the rest of the court disappeared.
But boy was it chaotic with Moon just distracting Hoon half the time, Nics and Chenle spent the time arguing—which was clearly their way of flirting, meanwhile Ricey was enjoying the drama in the middle of this all. The game was messy, and oh so loud.
You mostly ended up guarding Heeseung, and he was clearly not focused on winning anymore.
The first time you drove past him, he barely tried to block you, just let you slip by with this stupid little smile on his face. When you scored, he was the first one clapping, muttering under his breath, “fuck, that was hot,” loud enough for Beomgyu to hear and immediately start laughing.
“You’re not even guarding her properly!” Sunghoon yelled, hands on his knees, “you just watched her score and looked proud as hell!”
Heeseung didn’t even deny it, just shrugged, eyes still locked on you as you dribbled back.
“She’s fast,” he said, but the way he said it was way too soft, and he wondered why he called you with others around when he should’ve done this one on one, but even then, he was thrilled to see you fit in so well with everyone.
The court lights hummed overhead, casting long shadows across the cracked asphalt, your oversized t-shirt clung to your skin in damp patches, the thin cotton sticking to the curve of your waist and the small of your back every time you moved. Heeseung’s eyes kept dropping to where the hem rode up every time you moved, and honestly? You liked it.
You caught the ball again and drove straight at him. This time his hand found your waist right away, palm warm through the damp fabric, thumb brushing under the hem like he couldn’t help himself. You spun past anyway, shoulder bumping his chest, and laid it up clean. When you landed he was still there, fingers lingering on your hip for a second longer than necessary.
“Shit, you’re good,” he muttered by your ear.
Beomgyu groaned loud enough for everyone to hear, “Heeseung, your hand was literally on her the whole time!”
Sunghoon just shook his head, “I can’t watch this anymore.”
A few plays later you slowed right in front of him, dribbling lazy, then hit him with the pout—bottom lip out, eyes big. Heeseung’s shoulders dropped instantly, “come on, that’s cheating,” he whined, but he was already stepping aside, hand sliding to your hip again as you blew past and scored.
Ricey started cracking up from the fence. “He folded. Let’s fucking go!”
Nics and Moon were dying, “Y/N, you’re actually evil,” Moon yelled, “like—look at him.”
The game kept going like that, every time you got near him his hands were on your waist or lower back, like he needed the excuse to touch you. After one layup he caught you around the middle when you landed, pulling you back against his chest for a second, chin brushing your shoulder.
“You’re killing me out here,” he said quietly, thumb rubbing slow against your side.
You turned your head, “stop letting me win so obviously.”
“Can’t,” he admitted, fingers flexing on your hip, “can’t stop you.”
Final possession got you dribbling right up to him. He stepped up, but the second you gave him the pout he let out a soft laugh and just gave up, both hands settling on your waist.
“Go win, baby,” he whispered, not even trying to hide it anymore as you drove and laid it in clean.
Game over.
Nics scooped you up spinning you once while Moon and Ricey cheered like idiots. The second your feet hit the ground Heeseung was there, arm sliding around your waist and pulling you back against him. His t-shirt was damp against yours, heartbeat steady on your back.
“You’re impossible,” he murmured into your hair, thumb still tracing slow circles on your hip under the hem, “didn’t even wanna stop you.”
You leaned into him, grinning, “you had your hands on me the whole second half.”
“Yeah,” he said, no shame at all, “felt too good.”
Heeseung didn’t get to talk more as a fuming Chenle grabbed his collar and dragged him away for what seemed to be some good beating.
Moon and Nics immediately grabbed your arms at the opportunity and pulled you a few steps away, cornering you near the fence while Heeseung was distracted talking (arguing) to Chenle.
“Okay, spill,” Moon said, “what the hell is going on with you two? Because that was not subtle.”
Nics nodded, still half-laughing, “girl, he had his hands on your waist like every single play. He’s so into you it’s actually funny.”
You tried to play it cool, wiping sweat off your neck with the bottom of your shirt, “It’s not like that. We’re just—hanging out? No strings, y’know?”
They waited for you to say you’re joking, or just laugh, but then none of it came and they gasped, collectively.
“You’re not serious,” Moon deadpanned.
Nics’ eyes went huge, “wait. You’re actually serious.”
Ricey let out a low whistle, leaning against the fence, “damn, Y/N. I thought you were messing with us.”
You shrugged, trying to laugh it off, but the sound came out rather shaky. Your stomach did that stupid little flip again, like your body was calling you a liar before your mouth could. The cool night air on your damp neck suddenly felt too cold, and your t-shirt clung uncomfortably to your skin, “I mean, yeah, that’s the deal. We both said it from the start.”
The words felt flat even as you said them. Your eyes drifted across the court before you could stop yourself. Chenle still had Heeseung in that dramatic headlock, ranting about how embarrassing he was, but Heeseung wasn’t even pretending to fight back. His head turned and his gaze found yours instantly through the mess of hair falling in his face. That soft, stupid little smile tugged at his lips like getting chewed out didn’t matter at all. Just you did.
Your chest squeezed as you looked away, but Moon followed your stare and let out a quiet oh, “girl, look at him right now. He’s getting yelled at and he’s still staring at you like that? Come on.”
Nics nudged your side. “he had his hands on your waist literally every single time you got near him. Called you baby in front of all of us. Folded like a lawn chair the second you pouted. That’s a man catching feelings and not even trying to hide it.”
Ricey nodded, arms crossed, “for real. We were all watching, he was playing how many times can I touch my girl without getting called out.”
You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck that had nothing to do with the game anymore, “It’s not like that,” you mumbled but even you could hear how unsure you sounded. The way Heeseung was still looking at you made the label feel thinner than your sweaty t-shirt.
Before anyone could push harder, Chenle finally shoved Heeseung away with one last groan. Heeseung jogged back over, hair wrecked, cheeks flushed, but his eyes were already locked on you again. His arm slid around your waist without hesitation, palm warm and familiar against the damp fabric like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You guys done roasting her yet?” He asked, voice light and a little out of breath.
Ricey snorted, “not even close.”
Heeseung just grinned and pulled you closer, chin brushing the top of your head. You leaned into him without thinking, the solid warmth of his side against yours making that chest-tight feeling even worse. Or better, you couldn’t tell anymore.
Your newfound friends exchanged a look behind his back, but you caught it anyway.
Whatever this was—it didn’t feel like no strings anymore. Not even a little.
Heeseung always thought that his partner would an extension of his very soul, and he never achieved that. Maybe the saying can be moulded into perspectives of sort, perhaps connection wasn’t about mirroring souls but about finding someone who made the fractures feel intentional, beautiful even.
He mindlessly knocked on the door, heart drumming an uneven rhythm against his ribs, not expecting the door to open so quickly, his breath hitching at the sight of you in front of him.
Maybe your partner isn’t supposed to be an extension of you, but rather someone who’d stand on the opposite side of the spectrum and still look like a perfect puzzle when fitted together.
You stood there like a living poem rendered in silk—clad in a breathtaking white gown that slipped over your skin with liquid grace, the delicate fabric catching the hallway’s muted glow, the thin straps tracing the delicate architecture of your collarbones like a lover’s fingertip. It moved with you, shimmering faintly, alive with every subtle shift of your weight. Your hair styled perfectly, lips glossed to a tempting sheen, and the whole vision struck him so viscerally that the air in his lungs simply vanished.
You looked beautiful, like an angel in all white, while he stood in front of you in a black leather jacket, juxtaposing every bit of elegance you exuded.
Heeseung forgot how to breathe quite literally as time fractured around him. His gaze dragged over you in helpless reverence, while a razor-edged thought sliced through the haze. Are you going out? On a date? With someone else? The image of another man’s eyes tracing that same silk, another hand brushing the curve of your waist beneath it, coiled hot and ugly in his chest, stealing what little breath he had left.
“Hee?” You asked with a smile, tilting your head with genuine surprise, “what are you doing here?”
He gulped, forcing his eyes back up and oxygen to cooperate within him, “you’re breathtaking,” he managed, “I forgot what I came for.”
Warmth crept up your neck at the nervousness of the man in front of you, he was adorable—shifting from one leg to the other, playing with his fingers, as if the simple act of standing there might unravel him completely. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, cheeks flushed a soft rose, and those wide, doe-like eyes kept flicking back to the silk clinging to your body. You could practically feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat from where you stood, the way his throat worked on another swallow, the subtle tremor in his shoulders as he tried (and failed) to play it cool.
“I, uh—” Heeseung rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a small, embarrassed laugh, “I wanted to show you something. I’ve been carrying it around all day like an idiot because I thought you might like it. Figured tonight could be, I don’t know, nice? Just us.”
Your heart gave a small tug, the evening plans you’d been dreading now sitting like a weight in your chest, “god, Hee—I wish I could,” you said softly, “my parents are in town and we have this family dinner thing tonight. It’s one of those non-negotiable things. I was literally about to walk out the door when you knocked.”
Heeseung’s shoulders dropped just a fraction, disappointment flickering across his face before he quickly tried to smooth it over. He nodded, offering you a small, understanding smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, though he was relieved it wasn’t a boy you’d dressed up for, “no, gosh. It’s okay, I hope you have fun.”
He paused, eyes still lingering on you like he couldn’t help it, “but—if you’re not too tired later, maybe we could still meet up? Even if it’s just for a little while. No pressure or anything, I just—I really like being around you.”
All you could manage was a nod, making him smile wider. It was always a surprise at how clearly Heeseung said whatever he meant, and it wasn’t the best thing for your poor heart, which probably matched Heeseung’s pace now. Bidding goodbye was another problem especially when Heeseung stared till you got inside the cab. The dinner was a haze, your mom staring at your zoned out state with a knowing smile.
“Who is it?” She sighed finally, making you look up in horror.
“Mom—no,” you warned, knowing just how interested your family was in gossiping, which didn’t exclude gossip about you by any means.
“What? She laughed, feigning innocence while your dad hid his grin behind his water glass, “I’m just asking. You’ve been smiling at nothing and zoning out all night, now spill.”
Your cousin leaned in, eyes sparkling with mischief, “yeah, girl. You look like you’re thinking about someone. Is he cute? Does he go to your uni?”
Heat flooded your cheeks, “there’s no one,” you lied, though the words felt flimsy even to you, “I’m just tired.”
Your mom reached over and squeezed your wrist gently, “mhm, sure. Whoever he is, he’s lucky if he’s got you looking like this. Just don’t forget to eat, okay? You’re glowing, but you’re also not touching your food.”
You groaned, covering your face with both hands as the table erupted into light laughter. The teasing continued with your dad throwing in a dramatic “If he hurts you, I’ll find him” that made everyone chuckle—but you managed to dodge the worst of it, cheeks burning the whole time. By the time dessert came, your family had mercifully moved on, though your mom’s knowing glances never quite stopped.
Meanwhile, Heeseung stood alone on the rooftop of the main university building, the cool night breeze slipping beneath the collar of his leather jacket and ruffling his dark hair. He’d quietly borrowed the keys from the maintenance office earlier—something he wasn’t proud of, but tonight the small rebellion felt worth it. Up here, the view was stunning. City lights stretched out below like scattered diamonds across black velvet, the crescent moon hung low, casting a silvery glow over everything. He slipped an airpod in, letting his playlist fill the silence.
His hand drifted to the inner pocket of his jacket, fingers brushing the carefully wrapped item inside. He’d wanted to show it to you tonight, watch your face light up, maybe steal a few more stolen moments of that easy warmth you gave him so effortlessly.
Heeseung leaned against the railing, staring out at the glittering skyline while the music in his earpods played on, and he wondered if you were thinking about him too, somewhere across town amid the family dinner. He didn’t mind waiting, in fact, he was good at it when it meant so much to him. Regardless, every couple of minutes he’d glance at the door, half-convinced he was being ridiculous for waiting up here like some lovesick idiot.
As he turned back again, the faint creak of the door was heard, and he went still. You stepped onto the rooftop still wrapped in that white silk gown, the wind caught the hem immediately, making it swirl softly around your legs, and when you smiled at him—he felt it right in the center of his chest.
“Hi,” you said, voice quiet.
Heeseung pulled the airpods out slowly, letting them dangle from his fingers, “you—you actually came,” he breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them, his eyes moved over you again, helpless, “in that dress, god, Y/N.”
You walked closer, heels soft against the concrete, “told you I would. Couldn’t stop thinking about whatever you wanted to show me,” a small laugh escaped you.
He took a half-step closer, “I wasn’t sure,” he admitted, “but I’m really glad you’re here. You look—” he trailed off, shaking his head with a soft, almost disbelieving smile, “I don’t even have the words tonight, you’re beautiful.”
It was foreign, the way you felt all mushy inside with a compliment, granted you got those all the time, but this felt new. You stopped just inches from him, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught in his dark eyes, the faint flush still lingering on his cheeks, “show me, then,” you whispered.
Heeseung’s breath caught for the briefest moment. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and drew out a small box wrapped in simple paper, tied with a slender black ribbon. He placed it gently into your waiting hands, his fingers brushing yours with a lingering warmth that sent another quiet flutter through you.
You untied the ribbon, letting the paper fall away until the snow globe rested heavy in your palms. Inside the delicate glass sphere, a tiny couple danced beneath an invisible sky—her in a flowing white dress that mirrored the silk clinging to your body, him in a dark jacket that echoed the leather draped across Heeseung’s shoulders. Their hands were joined, bodies turned toward one another in quiet, perfect harmony. When you tilted the globe, soft white flakes swirled around them like the first gentle snowfall of winter, catching the moonlight in tiny, luminous sparks.
A rush of something overwhelming bloomed low in your stomach, as if butterflies unfurling their wings until your chest felt too full, too light. You looked up at him, eyes wide and shimmering. “Heeseung,” you breathed, “this is us. The dress, the jacket, it’s exactly like us.”
He bit his bottom lip, smiling shyly as he nodded, eyes soft with affection that he never failed to display. “Yeah,” he murmured, stepping closer until the globe rested safely between your bodies, pressed lightly against the silk over your heart, “I know it’s a little cheesy, but when I saw it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
It was yet again when he had rendered you speechless so beautifully, a small smile still graced your lips, and you couldn’t hide it, you didn’t wish to hide it, “it’s not cheesy, it’s beautiful, Hee. Thank you.”
You held the globe for another heartbeat, letting the tiny flakes swirl and sparkle inside the glass, before you turned gently and set it on the wide concrete railing
Heeseung watched you, nervous as he reached into his pocket, pulling out one of the earpods and holding it out to you between two fingers, “dance with me?” He asked, voice hopeful, “I’ve had this song on repeat—uh, I kept imagining what it would sound like with you here.”
It was as if you were facing the real tale of the entanglement after the initial surface level attraction had worn off, which should’ve made it worse, right? But Heeseung, unlike any other potential love interest you’d met, shone brighter after revealing himself day by day.
You took the airpod from him without a second’s hesitation and slid it in, that familiar, timeless melody of Everybody Loves Somebody filling your ear like an old friend crooning about love that finds you when you least expect it. Heeseung’s fingers brushed yours as he took your hand, threading them together with a quiet certainty that made your breath hitch. His other palm settled at your waist, warm through the silk, and he drew you in until your bodies met, like they’d been waiting all along. You let your free hand rest against his chest, right over the steady thud of his heart beneath the leather.
Heeseung let out a soft, breathy laugh, “fuck, I actually feel stupid right now,” he muttered, “I’ve never danced before.”
You laughed, leaning into his scent further, “you’re doing great, Hee.”
“Yeah?” Another dorky chuckle rumbled through his chest. He adjusted his hold on you, thumb moving in a slow, absent circle at your waist, “I don’t know, lately I keep catching myself doing shit I never thought I’d do. Like stealing keys to a rooftop, buying a snow globe because it reminded me of you. It’s weird, I feel like I’m figuring out all these parts of myself I didn’t even know were there.”
He stole keys, the thought itself made you chuckle again. You’d once read somewhere that the act of loving someone doesn’t stop at accepting them but furthers by coaxing their selfhood out of them—it felt that way for you too because who would have thought you’d be dancing with someone at a rooftop wearing a gown?
You squeezed his hand gently, “I like that,” you said, “I like that you’re figuring it out with me.”
The proximity was perfect, yet your bodies kept on gravitating towards each other every few steps, and eventually the melody began to fade. You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, the position mirroring that of the snow globe miniatures. Taking another step, you leaned forward just enough to slot your lips against his, almost as if breathing each other in, lips parting at the same time before pressing into a gentle peck. Heeseung exhaled shakily against you, his hand tightening at your waist for a second like he was trying to remember how to breathe.
When you finally drew back, you gave him that smile you knew he couldn’t resist. You slipped the airpod out of your ear and dropped it into his open palm, fingers brushing his one last time. At the same time you reached over, picked up the snow globe from the railing, and tucked it carefully against your chest.
“Night, baby,” you whispered as you turned toward the door.
Heeseung just stood there, completely still, breathing a little harder than before. His eyes were wide and utterly lovestruck as he watched you walk away. The rooftop door clicked shut behind you, but he didn’t move for a long time—just stayed right where he was under the moonlight, that dazed, helpless smile slowly taking over his face.
You were panting as Heeseung pressed his lips on the base of your spine, sending a shiver up your back. He hadn’t been patient pulling you in his bed, turning you over to unzip your dress. He groaned with each kiss as if he was pleasuring himself instead of you while savouring every inch of skin exposed.
Heeseung pressed his forehead against the middle of your back for a second, breathing hard, “you’re trembling,” he whispered against you, “is my mouth really making you feel that good?” He kissed between your shoulder blades, then higher, until his lips brushed the nape of your neck, “tell me, baby. Tell me how wet you are right now just from this.”
“So wet,” you gasped, pushing your hips back against him, “Hee—please.”
He let out a broken groan and shoved your panties to the side with impatient fingers, not even bothering to pull them off. The thick head of his cock nudged against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, before he sank into you in one long, relentless thrust.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound guttural as he bottomed out, stretching you wide, “you’re soaking my cock, baby. So fucking tight and wet for me.” He pulled back slowly, then drove in again, harder, the wet slap of skin echoing in the room, “listen to that. Hear how greedy your pussy is for me?”
You cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he set a deep, punishing rhythm, each stroke dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you.
“Heeseung—oh god, yes—” your voice broke on a moan, tears of overwhelming pleasure already stinging your eyes, “harder—please, I need it harder.”
Heeseung cursed under his breath and fucked you deeper, hips snapping forward with filthy precision, “like this?” He panted, voice hoarse “you want me to ruin this pretty little pussy? Tell me how good it feels, baby. I want to hear you fall apart.”
“It feels so good,” you sobbed, pushing back to meet every thrust, “you’re so deep—fuck, Hee, I can’t—”
The pleasure coiled tighter and tighter, white-hot and devastating, until it finally snapped.
“I love you—” the words tore out of you, raw and desperate, “Heeseung, I love you—”
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt inside you, body going completely rigid.
“What?” His voice was barely a whisper, shocked and trembling.
You whimpered, hips twitching helplessly around his cock, the confession spilling out again in a blurry, broken rush, “I love you, I love you so much—”
Heeseung pulled out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. In one swift motion he flipped you onto your back, hovering over you with wide, dark eyes and a chest that heaved like he’d forgotten how to breathe.
“Say it again,” he demanded, voice hoarse and shaking as he stared down at you, one hand cupping your jaw, “look at me and say it again, baby. Please.”
Your eyes were glassy, lips parted on a shaky breath, but the words seemed to have blurred, your face disappearing right in front of his eyes as you said, “I love—”
He woke up with a sharp, ragged gasp, bolting upright in his own bed, heart slamming violently against his ribs. The room was dark and silent except for his own frantic breathing. Sweat slicked his skin, and when he looked down, the front of his sweatpants was soaked with a warm, sticky mess.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered hoarsely, dragging a trembling hand down his face, cheeks burning with heat.
It was hard for him to contain himself when this is all he could dream of the past six days, feeling it deep despite it being a dream. Wet dream was fine really, but the confession that echoed? Yeah, that definitely made Heeseung feel eccentric because he needed to hear that for real despite the terms of the relationship between you both. It was bound to bloom into something more.
You two had fallen into a rhythm that didn’t need a label really. He showed up outside your lectures with your stupidly specific drink (matcha), the one with the exact ratio you liked, because he’d paid attention the one time you made a face at the wrong version. You’d started leaving your oversized hoodie at his place just so you could steal his instead and he could wear yours, the sleeves swallowing your hands while you lounged on his bed scrolling through your phone. He noticed how you always tugged at your bottom lip when you were thinking too hard, how you stole the last sip of his drink without asking, how your shoulders relaxed the second you kicked your shoes off after a long day. You noticed the way he rubbed the bridge of his nose when he was tired but too stubborn to admit it, the soft little hum he made when something tasted exactly right, the way his eyes lingered on you a beat longer than necessary whenever you laughed at something dumb he said.
You weren’t calling it dating, you weren’t calling it anything. But you also weren’t fighting it. You’d never been the type to deny yourself something that made you feel good, and Heeseung made you feel good in a way that snuck up on you. So you let yourself have it without the complications of overthinking.
Later that morning, Heeseung walked across campus still half-dazed from the dream, that stupid, lingering smile refusing to leave his face. The memory of your voice saying those three words kept looping in his head, well, until a voice didn’t wish to hear ruined his train of thoughts.
“Well, well. If it isn’t the thief.”
Heeseung slowed to a stop and turned. Jaemin stood there with his arms crossed, wearing the same smug, pissed-off expression he used to think was charming.
Heeseung let out a dry, humorless scoff, “thief? That’s fucking hilarious coming from the guy who was literally balls-deep in my ex while we were still together.”
Jaemin stepped closer, eyes narrowing, “whatever helps you sleep at night. You really think you’re gonna keep her interested?” His voice dripped with condescension, “Y/N doesn’t do soft boys. All that cute shit you do, y’know? All that bringing her drinks, playing with her hair, looking at her like she’s the only person in the room? She’ll get bored so soon. She needs someone who can actually keep up with her, not some pathetic, whipped little romantic who gets all starry-eyed at the sight of her.”
Heeseung forced out a dry laugh, “yeah sure, keep telling yourself that.”
Jaemin stepped even closer, that ugly little smirk twisting his mouth, “you’re playing house while she’s used to getting fucked properly, I’m sure you’re not offering much to at all, you’re nothing but a rebound to her,” he scoffed once, and walked away.
But the damage was done, because yes, Heeseung was soft, almost a whipped little romantic who let you take the lead when things got heated, how you pinned his wrists down or told him exactly how you wanted him, and how much he fucking loved giving in to you. The dream from this morning flashed behind his eyes again, your voice breaking on those three words while he was the one completely undone above you. Now it all felt suddenly pathetic, like something Jaemin could point at and laugh at.
Jealousy, envy, insecurity, these were the things he didn’t wish to feel, and gladly so, he never felt that with you, so why was an outsider here to remind him of his so called weaknesses? It felt like a spiral how he skipped the next lecture and pondered on Jaemin’s words. Did you actually not enjoy your time with him? Was he enough? Did you want a more intense relationship? Was it just a rebound?
He couldn’t find the answers to any of those questions, and managed to ignore every single text and call that came his way, letting himself cool down on the rooftop yet again.
What he essentially forgot was how communication wasn’t a part of the relationship but the very pillar that ran practically any relationship on this earth, this being the very first instance of him not being able to express himself—something he did so freely around you.
And so, the day passed without him replying to you.
You felt the absence like a missing pulse.
“You look crazy checking your phone every two minutes,” Sunoo pointed out, and you huffed, grabbing your phone again to stare at the unread texts you’d sent him through the day.
The screen glowed mockingly in the low light of your dorm room, the blue bubble of your last message still floating unanswered beneath the others, heeseung? talk to me. you okay? i’m coming over if you don’t answer. Just silence that didn’t sit right with you.
Sunoo flopped dramatically across the foot of your bed, legs kicking up behind him, while Winter perched on the windowsill, she watched you with that knowing tilt of her head, the one that always preceded a lecture of affection.
“Babe,” she said, “he’s been ghosting the group chat too, something’s off. Like, capital-O off.”
You set the phone face-down on the blanket, but your fingers still twitched toward it. Sunoo nudged your ankle with his socked foot.
“Go, seriously, and if he’s being a dramatic little shit, tell him Sunoo said to grow a pair and answer his damn phone.” His grin was bright, “you’re so in love it’s pathetic.”
Your lip only twitched, and you didn’t admit nor deny it. It was too early to even overthink what happened, was he drowning himself in self destruction while embracing pain for absolutely no reason? Regardless you frowned with disdain, pushing yourself up to actually do something about the situation, choosing to wear his hoodie he gave you a few days earlier.
You didn’t bother fixing your hair or changing out of the soft shorts you’d been rotting in all evening. This wasn’t about looking put-together, it was about the fact that Heeseung had never once left a message on read without answering, in fact, he was the one who usually texted first, shared his problems, and discussed any and everything this world has to offer. Whatever had him locked down like this, it had teeth, and you were done waiting for him to chew through it alone.
By the time you reached there, a feeling of nervousness washed over you. Jake pulled the door open almost immediately, like he’d been hovering behind it. His eyes were wide, hair sticking up in about six different directions, and he looked so relieved to see you that it almost hurt.
“Jesus Christ, you’re here,” he sighed, stepping aside so you could slip in, “he got back from class and just shut down. Told me to fuck off when I asked if he wanted pasta. Jay tried the concerned roommate bit and got the door slammed in his face. This isn’t—he doesn’t do this, y’know?”
You nodded, throat tight, “I know.”
Jake hesitated, then added almost sheepishly, “if he’s being a dick, tell him I said to stop being a dramatic prick or i’ll take you away, or whatever.”
You gave him a chuckle and headed straight for the bedroom door, hoping that it wouldn’t be locked. It wasn’t, thankfully so, and you pushed the door open before you could talk yourself out of it. Heeseung sat on the edge of the bed in those black sweats that hung too low on his hips, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. His hair was a mess, like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. The silver chain sat against his collarbone, rising and falling with these tight little breaths. He looked exhausted, hollowed out even.
He heard the door and his head snapped up.
For a second his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe it was really you standing there. The whiplash of emotions was too much, especially when you were clad in his hoodie with sadness gracing your pretty face that he really always wished to see happy. He stood up so fast the bed creaked, crossed the room in two strides, and pulled you against him like he’d been waiting to do exactly that all day.
His hands were rough as he grabbed your nape the second the door closed shut behind you, breathing hard as your lips parted to ask a question, but he only closed his eyes, slid his hand up to your head as he pushed you against the door, pushing his lips against yours in a messy claim.
He can be rough, he can be the one to give you pleasure, of course he can. His fingers tightened in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wanted it, tongue sliding in deep. You tasted the faint cherry from whatever he’d been drinking, felt the way his chest heaved against yours like he’d been running.
“Missed you,” he mumbled right into your mouth, the words half-bitten off by another rough kiss, “fuck, I missed you so bad today.”
“Heeseung—wait, what the hell happened—” you tried, but he swallowed the question with his mouth, sucking on your bottom lip hard enough to sting before dragging his teeth down the side of your neck. His free hand shoved under the hem of the hoodie, palm sprawled over the expanse of your waist, fingers digging in like he needed to feel skin right now
“Shh,” he breathed against your throat, voice wrecked, “don’t talk. Just—let me.” He sucked a mark right below your ear, like he was stamping proof that you were here, that you were his. His hips pressed forward, pinning you tighter to the door, and you could feel how hard he already was through his sweats.
The force of him made your breath hitch, your back flush against the cool wood while every inch of him burned insistent. He was never like this, not with you. Heeseung had always been careful, as if afraid that wrong move would make you slip away. But tonight something had snapped in him, and the way his fingers trembled just slightly against your skin told you he knew it too. He was trying to prove a point—to himself, to the ghost of Jaemin’s voice still echoing in his head—that he could be the rough, ravenous version he thought you wanted.
He spun you around so fast your palms slapped against the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. The cool glass kissed your bare chest, making your nipples tighten instantly. Heeseung’s chest pressed flush to your back, one hand sliding up to grip your jaw, forcing your head up so you had no choice but to look at your own reflection—parted lips, eyes already glassy.
“Look at yourself,” he rasped, “look how fucking pretty you are when you’re like this for me.”
His other hand snaked down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs without warning. Two thick digits pushed inside you in one smooth glide, curling instantly against that spot that made your knees buckle. You gasped, forehead dropping forward until it rested on the mirror, but Heeseung’s grip on your jaw tightened, yanking you back up.
“Eyes open, baby. Watch, yeah?”
It most certainly was hot to see him take control, but you couldn’t understand the sudden switch, the implications, your mind was too foggy with the way you’d missed him through the day. Heeseung was too in his head, as if on some mission to make you feel good—which he always achieved, yet was not satisfied.
He pumped his fingers slow and deep, twisting them on every drag out so you felt every ridge, every knuckle. The wet, slick sounds of your pussy taking his fingers echoed obscenely in the quiet dorm room. In the mirror you watched it all: the way your lips parted on a shaky moan, the flush crawling down your neck to your chest, the way your tits pressed and flattened against the cool glass with every rock of your hips. Heeseung’s reflection behind you was devastating—dark hair falling into his eyes, jaw clenched tight, that chain around his neck swaying every time he thrust his fingers harder.
“God, you’re so deep already,” you whimpered, hips rocking back to meet his hand, “keep going like that, yeah, just like that, Hee.”
Heeseung groaned low, forehead dropping to your shoulder for a second before he forced himself to look up again, as if in pain, “that’s it. Fuck, listen to how messy you sound. You’re dripping down my wrist, baby. Such a good girl for me.”
You bit your lip, eyes fluttering, but he tapped your jaw again.
“Don’t close your eyes. Want you to see how pretty you look when I finger fuck you like this.”
“Bossy tonight,” you teased breathlessly, even as your thighs started trembling, “I like it, but you’re gonna make me cum already if you keep rubbing my clit like that.”
“Good,” he rasped, thumb circling faster, fingers curling relentlessly, “cum for me. Right now. Let me see it.”
You moaned his name loud, walls fluttering and clenching around his fingers as you came, slick coating his hand. Heeseung kept working you through it, slower but deep, murmuring against your neck, “that’s my girl—fuck, you’re so pretty when you cum. Look at you shaking for me.”
He pulled his fingers out slowly, then brought them to your lips.
“Taste yourself, baby, hm? C’mon, open up.”
You sucked them clean, eyes never leaving his in the reflection, and he cursed under his breath the second your tongue swirled around his fingers.
“Fuck—you’re gonna kill me.”
Before you could catch your breath he dropped to his knees behind you, hands gripping your hips and yanking you back so your ass arched toward his face.
“Keep watching the mirror,” he said, voice hoarse with need, “I want you to see me eat this pussy like I’ve been starving for it.”
Then his mouth was on you, as filthy as he could manage. His tongue dragged slow and broad from your clit all the way up, and you moaned loud, hands sliding down the glass.
“Oh my god, Hee—”
“Mhm, fuck, you taste even better after you come,” he groaned against you, the vibration making your legs weak, “spread your legs a little wider for me, baby. Let me get deeper.”
You did, pushing back against his face. His tongue fucked into you while his nose nudged your clit, then he sucked your swollen clit into his mouth hard.
“Yes—right there, don’t stop,” you panted, “your tongue feels so fucking good, baby, keep sucking like that.”
Heeseung moaned into your pussy, one hand reaching around to rub your clit while the other spread you open wider, “tell me how much you like it,” he mumbled between licks, voice desperate, “tell me you love my mouth on you.”
“I love it—fuck, I love your mouth, Hee. You’re so good at this—shit, I’m gonna cum again if you keep going like that.”
He sucked harder, tongue flicking fast, fingers joining to curl inside you, “then let go again, right on my tongue. I want to feel you fall apart while you watch yourself in the mirror.”
Your second orgasm crashed over you even harder, a high pitched moan leaving your mouth, almost as if you were chanting his name like a mantra, thighs shaking violently as you came on his tongue, and Heeseung licked you through every pulse, slow and greedy, humming happily like he couldn’t get enough.
You were still trembling when he finally pulled away, breathing hard against the inside of your thigh. His eyes met yours in the mirror for a second, looking all desperate, almost frantic before he stood up and turned you around. His hands were shaking as they gripped your waist.
“Come here,” he said, voice rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. He kissed you immediately, with the need to taste the way you’d just fallen apart for him, “bed. I need you on the bed right now.”
You nodded, legs still unsteady, and he didn’t wait. He lifted you, your back hitting the mattress a second later. He climbed over you fast, knees bracketing your hips, but instead of diving right in he paused, hovering above you, chest heaving. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, and for a split second you saw the soft Heeseung underneath all that intensity—the one who always checked on you, the one who was terrified of messing this up.
“You really want this?” He asked, voice cracking a little even though he was trying to sound sure. His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing your skin like he couldn’t stop himself, “all the way, me inside you. Tell me you want it, baby, please.”
“I want it,” you whispered, reaching up to pull him closer by his chain, “I want you, Hee. Stop holding back.”
He let out a shaky breath and nodded, like he was steeling himself. He shoved the rest of his clothes off as you watched the pretty boy in front of you. It was clear how he wanted to prove a point, and you were gonna let him, granted he wasn’t in the mood to talk, his faint muscles flexing was distracting you as well, but yeah, you were letting him take control.
He gripped your thighs and spread you open wider, breathing hard as he tried not to stare to the point he starts drooling because, lord, you looked absolutely stunning all spread out on his bed, looking up at him with need, bottom lip bitten. He lined up, the blunt head of his cock pressing right against your entrance, and for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, eyes flicking up to yours like he was still fighting whatever storm was in his head.
“Tell me again,” he said, “tell me you want this.”
“I want this,” you breathed, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongues sliding deep right away, “I want you inside me, Hee. Stop thinking and just take me.”
He groaned into your mouth and pushed forward.
The first inch stretched you open, slow and thick. You both gasped against each other’s lips.
“Fuck—you’re so tight,” he muttered, forehead pressed to yours, hips trembling as he held still, “just the tip and you’re already gripping me like that. You okay?”
You nodded quickly, nails dragging lightly down his back, “keep going, I can take more.”
He kissed you again, deeper this time, almost desperate, and rolled his hips forward on the second thrust as another inch sank in. The burn was sharp but so fucking good your back arched.
“Shit—baby,” he groaned, voice cracking. He sucked a hard mark right under your jaw, teeth grazing your skin as he pushed in a third time, slower, letting you adjust, “you feel—gosh, you feel unreal, i’m trying not to lose it already.”
Your nails dug in harder, scratching down his shoulder blades as he gave one more careful thrust and finally bottomed out, hips flush against yours. The full stretch made you moan loud into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist.
Heeseung stilled completely, breathing ragged against your neck, trying not to whimper, “talk to me. Does it hurt? Tell me the truth.”
“A little,” you whispered, “but I love it. You feel so deep already. Move, baby, I need you to move.”
He started with slow, deep rolls of his hips, grinding against you on every stroke like he was still trying to stay in control. But you could feel the tension building in his body, the way his fingers dug into your thighs a little harder each time.
“Yeah? Like this?” He asked, voice rougher now as he snapped his hips forward a little sharper, “you want me to fuck you harder?”
“Harder,” you moaned, nails raking down his back again, leaving red lines, “don’t be gentle tonight. I want all of it.”
He dropped his head to your neck and bit down hard, sucking yet another dark mark into your skin as his hips suddenly slammed forward. The thrusts turned brutal, the bed creaking loudly under you. His chain slapped against your chest with every snap of his hips. He was fucking you like he’d been holding back for months—desperate, almost punishing strokes that knocked the breath out of you.
“Fuck—fuck, baby,” he groaned against your throat, voice completely wrecked, “you’re taking me so fucking good. This pussy is mine tonight. Mine.”
You cried out and he kissed you again, tongues sliding messily while he pounded into you without any rhythm left. His hips stuttered, slamming harder, faster, completely mindless now, like every doubt in his head was being fucked out with every brutal thrust.
“Shit—I can’t—can’t slow down,” he panted, “you feel too good, gonna fuck you until you can’t walk tomorrow.”
He was gone—eyes hazy, sweat dripping down his chest, hips snapping wildly as he lost himself inside you, chasing that raw, desperate need to prove he could be everything he thought you wanted. His chain bounced wildly against your chest, his fingers digging bruises into your thigh like he needed something to hold onto.
You were right there with him, body tightening, moans spilling out against his mouth, when the intensity tipped over into something too much, too fast. Your hand shot back, fingers digging into his hip.
“Heeseung—stop. Stop for a second.”
He froze mid-thrust, buried to the hilt, every muscle locking up at once. His breath hitched hard against your neck. For a long second the room was just the sound of both of you breathing, ragged and uneven. You could feel the panic crashing over him.
“Fuck—did I hurt you?” His voice cracked, he pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes already glassy with tears that spilled over when he blinked, “shit, I’m so sorry—I got too rough, I didn’t mean to, I was trying so hard not to be soft and I just—fuck, I thought if I fucked you harder you’d want me, you’d stay, I—”
His lip trembled. Another tear slid down his cheek and landed warm on your skin. He looked completely shattered, still deep inside you, like the idea that he might have hurt you was breaking him apart right there.
You cupped his face with both hands, thumbs gently brushing the tears from under his eyes, “baby, shh. You didn’t hurt me,” you whispered, voice soft, full of warmth, “not even a little. I promise. You feel so good, Hee. C’mon breathe with me, okay?”
He stared at you, eyes wide and wet, lips pressed tight together like he was trying not to fall apart completely. He gave the smallest shake of his head, refusing to speak at first.
You leaned up and kissed him, just a gentle press of your lips until he softened into it, a shaky little exhale leaving him. When you pulled back you kept your forehead against his, thumbs still stroking his cheeks.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper, “I can feel it, baby. Something’s been eating at you. Please talk to me.”
Heeseung swallowed hard, eyes fluttering shut for a second as another tear slipped free. His voice came out small, cracked, almost ashamed.
“Jaemin cornered me after class,” he whispered, “uh—he said I’m too soft, fucking whipped. That I’m just a pathetic rebound and you’d get bored of me in a week because someone like me could never keep a girl like you. Said you need someone who can actually fuck you right, not some gentle loser,” his breath hitched, “I just—I didn’t want to be that guy anymore. I wanted to prove I could be what you need, I know this isn’t what you wanted, our whole FWB thing.”
You stayed right there, forehead pressed to his, thumbs still gently wiping his tears as you looked at him with nothing but softness in your eyes, heart hurting at how the guy who makes you the happiest was reduced to some loser by your pathetic excuse of an ex.
“I like you exactly how you are,” you let out, heat creeping up your neck, the position only making you feel more with his cock still buried deep in you.
“Y—you like me?” He gasped as you licked his tear away, “really?”
“I do, Hee. I forgot about the whole no strings arrangement long back, I found myself wanting to spend more time with you, and who am I to deprive myself of happiness?” You chuckled, “you can’t force your feelings to go away, or change yourself, y’know? Fuck Jaemin, he doesn’t know shit, he could never make me cum and he definitely could never make me feel the way you do.”
Heeseung let out a shaky, broken exhale, his forehead still resting against yours as fresh tears welled up, “I thought—I thought I was ruining everything. I was so scared you’d realize I’m just the rebound, and you’d leave. I didn’t want to lose you, so I tried to be someone else tonight. I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head, “you didn’t ruin anything, Hee, not even close. You could never ruin this. I’m right here, okay? I’m not going anywhere, I don’t mind you being rough or soft, yeah?”
He swallowed hard, “I don’t want to be rough, I never really did. I just, I thought that’s what you needed from me. But I want to be soft with you, can I—can I do that? Please?”
You couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped you, the sound made his lips twitch, and then he was smiling—small, shy, and so genuinely relieved it made your heart squeeze. He immediately hid his face in the crook of your neck, embarrassed, his breath warm against your skin as he let out a quiet, shy laugh of his own.
“Stop laughing at me,” he mumbled into your neck, but you could hear the smile in his voice, the way his shoulders relaxed.
“I’m not laughing at you,” you whispered, still chuckling as you threaded your fingers through his hair, “I’m laughing because you’re adorable, and I like you like this. Exactly like this.”
Heeseung lifted his head just enough to look at you again, eyes still glassy but now shining with something brighter as he managed another kiss, pouring every unsaid feeling into it. When he pulled back, his voice was soft.
“I love you,” he breathed out, “I’m so in love with you. I don’t want no-strings, I want everything. Mornings where I wake up and you’re stealing my hoodie. Nights where we fall asleep tangled up like this, and I want all of it with you.”
You smiled against his lips, heart so full it felt like it might burst, “I’m falling in love with you too, Hee, I want all of that with you too.”
He whined, kissing you all clumsy, rolling his hips in long, loving strokes that made you feel every inch of him. The pace was unhurried, like he wanted to savor every second.
“Feel that?” He whispered, forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you, “I love being inside you like this. I love feeling you around me—so warm, so perfect.”
You moaned softly, legs wrapping tighter around him as you rocked up to meet his slow thrusts, “you feel so good, baby.”
Heeseung smiled again with a giggle, hiding his face in your neck for a moment before kissing along your throat, “you’re so beautiful,” he murmured between kisses, “the way you look when I’m inside you, the little sounds you make, I could stay like this for hours. Just loving you, just making you feel good.”
His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning it gently above your head while the other slid down to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, tender circles. Every thrust was accompanied by quiet words—I love you, you feel incredible, never letting you go, whispered against your skin like prayers.
You squeezed his hand, “I love how you make me feel safe, don’t ever change, okay?”
“I won’t, I promise, i just want to make you feel loved. Every single day.”
The room filled with nothing but the soft creak of the bed, your quiet moans, and his gentle praises. He kept the pace slow and deep, grinding against you on every thrust so your clit rubbed perfectly against him. His lips never left your skin—kissing your neck, your jaw, your mouth, your collarbone like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you.
“You’re everything to me,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion as he rolled his hips again, “I’m so lucky you’re mine. So fucking lucky.”
“I’m the lucky one, baby. Now keep loving me just like this, I never want this to end.”
Heeseung smiled against your mouth, eyes shining with pure adoration, and did exactly that—loving you slow, deep, and full of so much tenderness it felt like the rest of the world had disappeared.
Just the two of you, and the moonlight in the room.
MEANWHILE:
You shushed Heeseung for the nth time as he smiled against your palm, but you were serious, peering down the hallway from the narrow alcove where you’d both hidden behind a pillar.
“Stop smiling, you’re going to get us caught,” you whispered, though your own grin was fighting to break free.
Heeseung only chuckled quietly, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist, “can’t help it. You look so adorable trying to be all serious.”
You rolled your eyes, but your heart felt warm as his arms stayed wrapped around your waist from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.
The classroom door finally swung open. Students spilled out, and then Jaemin stepped into the hallway, laughing loudly with his friends.
The second you saw him, you stepped out without hesitation, you lifted the chilled cup and poured the entire icy matcha straight over his head from the first floor, the aim being too good to your surprise.
Jaemin gasped, stumbling back as green liquid drenched his hair and hoodie, “what the fuck—”
Loud laughter exploded from the crowd around him. Phones came out instantly, people whistling and clapping, and you didn’t stay to admire your work.
You grabbed Heeseung’s hand and ran, both of you sprinting down the side hallway until you ducked into an empty stairwell, breathless and laughing.
“Oh my god, his face,” you wheezed, back pressed against the wall.
Heeseung leaned over you, one hand beside your head, smiling so beautifully it made your knees weak—eyes crinkled, full of pure adoration and joy.
“You’re insane, taking revenge for me again,” he said softly, “and I’m so in love with you.”
You reached up, cupping his cheek. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly, so full of everything you two had become. When he pulled back, forehead resting against yours, he was still smiling that same breathtaking smile.
“I love you,” he whispered.
You kissed the corner of his mouth, grinning, and you did mean it with your whole heart as you proceeded to say.
