ilosfie

she/her ; 19. this is my reading acc u don't need to follow/fb me

[milestoone]

LOST ON YOU (1/2)

SUMMARY: Call it delusion, but you have always believed that there was something between you and Jungwon. Or, you mistake friendliness for feelings and spend your last semester of university learning the difference.

PART TWO

WARNINGS: f!reader, unrequited feelings, one-sided pining, fluff, angst, heartbreak, eventual happy ending WC: 6.7k - MASTERLIST

A/N: enjoy reading! i rly tried my best to convey the feelings accurately bc we've all been there amirite (⓿_⓿)

---

The lecture hall is stuffy.

Winter has finally given up its hold, the last patches of snow melting into the grass outside as spring slowly settles over campus and temperatures climb well above freezing. You adjust the sleeves of your shirt, already too warm, scanning the rows of seats and sighing.

Clearly you are the only person who has caught on to the fact that big, puffy jackets are no longer necessary. Everyone else seems intent on carrying winter with them a little longer.

Around you is a blur of muted colours and somewhat familiar faces, the other students wearing thick coats and wool scarves and yet, amongst them all, you’re always able to pick out your favourite. It’s nothing special– a black bomber– but it has never been the jacket that catches your eye, not necessarily; it’s the person wearing it. 

You’ve known Yang Jungwon since the first semester of your first year at university.

Back then, a boy named Jake was nothing more than your assigned partner for a chemistry lab, but slowly, he became one of your closest friends. And unlike most other first-years, he’d opted out of rooming in the university residence, choosing instead to rent a small three-bedroom apartment just off campus with two guys he’d known since high school. When he invited you over for the first time, you were expecting nothing more than a quiet evening spent studying for a midterm together.

What you had absolutely no idea would happen, however, was that you would end up meeting the person who would completely occupy your every thought for the next three years.

Your phone buzzes in your lap. 

jungwon: where are you??? i saved you a seat

you: look behind you silly

You watch as Jungwon tilts his head back, eyes sweeping across the lecture hall for a few seconds before finally landing on you. The moment he sees you, a smirk pulls at his lips, and he nods toward the empty seat to his side.

It’s almost embarrassing, you think, the way your body moves on its own, already gathering your lecture notebooks and shoving your pens back into your bag. You make your way down the steps two at a time, stumbling over backpacks and outstretched legs, trying to rein in the eager expression tugging at your face, but to no avail.

“Finally,” he whispers, nudging his knee against yours softly. “I thought you abandoned me.”

There’s a teasing glint in your eyes as you glance over at him and feign thoughtfulness. “Well, I was thinking about it.”

He lets out a chuckle, shaking his head as he focuses back to the front of the room, where the professor is getting ready to start the lesson. “Liar,” he mumbles under his breath.

You grin. He’s right, you’d never do that. And even though you should turn to the front too, you let your gaze linger on his features for a moment longer. The curve of his nose, the sparkle in his eyes, the small birthmark at the bottom of his jaw... You’ve memorized these details, traced them so many times in your mind that they feel permanently etched there. 

But if you were smarter, you’d realize that just because you can predict the way his smile will form before it reaches his lips, it doesn’t guarantee that he can do the same for you. 

—

“And then he nudged my knee! when I tell you–”

A squeal cuts you off. “He what?!” Yunjin practically launches herself upright on the couch, eyes widening. “I’ve been saying that he likes you.” 

As your roommate and best friend, she has been by your side throughout what you guys have jokingly started calling the Jungwon Saga since day one. She was there when you got back to your dorm in first year, rambling about the cute boy Jake lives with, and she was there when you embarrassingly spent an entire evening analyzing the meaning behind a good luck text before your first final exam. Yet perhaps most importantly, she’s always there to tell you that you aren’t imagining things.

Not that you need much convincing. You pride yourself on the fact that you’re pretty good at reading body language and gauging the signs someone might give off. After all, you can always tell when one of your friends has a crush. You notice how their eyes track the person a little too long, the way their voice changes when they talk about them, how they somehow always end up bringing them into every conversation despite there being zero correlation.

It’s obvious because it's almost exactly what you do with Jungwon. 

“I’m serious,” she insists, watching the flush on your cheeks grow. “You cannot tell me you don’t see it after all this time.”

You laugh as you tuck your legs beneath you on the couch. “I mean... I’d like to think he likes me too,” you give her a pointed look, “but it’s not like he’s actually done anything about it.”

Though humbling to admit, not once has Jungwon actually made a move on you. And as much as you can sit here and list every little thing he’s done that makes you believe there are underlying feelings, you know there is one thing you don’t have. A confirmation, in words. What was that famous phrase going around on social media? If he wanted to, he would? Something like that. So far, he hasn’t done the ‘would’ part, which is a bummer, but there are still so many other hints that point to some sort of romantic inclination that you choose to ignore what the relationship gurus on TikTok say. 

“Okay, but still,” your friend says, waving her hand dismissively. “The year isn’t over.” 

“Hm?” You raise an eyebrow.

“I’m mean,” leaning forward, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment.” 

“The right moment?”

“Yeah! Think about it: you’re in the final semester of your final year, lots of work and studying to do. He’s probably aware of the fact that you are stressed and wants to make sure he doesn’t add to it.”

“I bet,” she continues, raising a finger, “maybe he’ll ask you out after graduation. You know, when things calm down.”

You tilt your head, considering it.

One thing you’ve noticed about Jungwon is that he is extremely thoughtful, always taking his time to consider how his actions might affect other people. So perhaps Yunjin is right, to some degree. Then, because there’s only so long you can spend dissecting your (lack of) love life before remembering you have actual responsibilities, you glance toward the kitchen. “Anyway,” you say, pushing yourself off the couch, “what do you want for dinner?”

Yunjin blinks. “What do we have?”

“Well…I kinda forgot to go grocery shopping, so our options are pretty slim pickings right now.”

Grabbing her phone, she opens the local food delivery app. “Order in?”

-

So after consuming an amount of pizza that must not be voiced aloud, you eventually decide that moving to your bed is a battle you are no longer willing to fight. By the time you’ve showered, changed into your pyjamas, and completed your nightly routine, the apartment has gone quiet. Settling into your bedsheets, you scroll on your phone, catching up on missed messages you’d forgotten to reply to throughout the day. 

You’re halfway through watching an Instagram reel your friend Sunghoon sent when your phone vibrates in your hand; a new notification blooming at the top of your screen. Your eyes flick up toward the same of the sender, and your heart does a heavy, traitorous thud in your chest. 

jungwon: hey, i think you’d like this song!

Quickly, you click the link to the song, and within seconds, you’re smiling and rolling around your bed in giddy excitement. The minute it ends, you replay the song from the beginning, letting the melody fill the quiet of your room as you stare at the little message bubble above it. 

He heard this and thought of you! Out of everyone he could have sent it to, he chose to send it to you!

As cringe as it may be, you take a screenshot of the text and open your chat with Yunjin. She may be in the room next to yours, and definitely awake, but you’re so comfortable there’s no way you’re getting up. Just as you’re about to press send, your phone buzzes again, and it’s another message from Jungwon, but this time, it’s not a private message. Rather, it’s sent to the group chat you have with him and Jake, and some more university friends. 

jungwon: guys this song is a banger and a half 

Below that is the exact song he sent you.

Okay… so you guess it isn’t the cute shared moment between the two of you that you thought it was, but he sent it to you first, so that should mean something at the very least. You try not to let the disappointment lodge itself in your throat as you switch back to your private chat with him, and like the message. 

—

You might honestly have a heart attack.

Seated across from you, Jungwon has his head buried in a textbook, one hand lazily playing with the edge of the page while the other scribbles notes into the margin. He’s wearing a black beanie pulled low over his forehead, a plain black t-shirt, and grey sweatpants. Altogether, it might just be, and this is objectively speaking, the single most lethal clothing combination a man can put together, and it takes everything in you not to spend the whole studying session checking him out— a Herculean task, really.

To your left, Jake is meticulously making flashcards for the upcoming midterm, mumbling definitions under his breath (you know he’ll ask you to quiz him on them later), and on your right, Jay is asleep, to nobody’s surprise. This is how your afternoons usually go: after dying of boredom in a lecture, the four of you, or whoever else you share a class with, move to the campus library to do extra reading and review any new information.

“Yo,” Jake says suddenly, not bothering to look up from the stack of flashcards in his hands. “Y’all going to that party on Saturday? I think it’s at Yeonjun’s.”

You'd already been invited by the man himself the last time you ran into him, though you hadn't exactly been counting down the days. Loud music, sticky floors, and squeezing through a house shoulder to shoulder with strangers weren’t usually included in your idea of a good time. Still, Yunjin had made it abundantly clear that she intended to go, and after nearly four years of knowing each other, you'd learned a very important lesson: What Yunjin wants, Yunjin gets. 

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’ll probably be there.” 

At that, Jungwon’s head lifts as he looks at you. “You’re going?”

“Mhm.”

He hums once, absentmindedly, then looks back down at his notes. “I’ll go too.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you force yourself to look anywhere but him to avoid getting caught cheesing. You totally influenced his decision! It’s times like this when you’re 100% convinced he likes you. Like who would say that if they weren’t interested? You’re not complaining. Plus, if he wasn’t going to go, your already non-existent motivation would have dropped tenfold. Perhaps with a little bit of alcohol in the system...

The right end of the table wobbles as Jay stirs, peeling his cheek off the textbook he'd been using as a pillow. There's a deep, blotchy imprint pressed into his skin where the pages had folded beneath him.

You burst out laughing before you can stop yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as you try to smother the noise (rookie mistakes). A few heads turn from nearby tables, searching for the source of the disruption.

“Are you going to go?” You whisper once you've composed yourself.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jake’s cheeks puff up with air as he, too, tries his very best to hold in his laughter. 

“I’m too tired to make a decision right now,” Jay grumbles back, dragging his hands through his hair. It makes you roll your eyes. That’s code for ‘No, unless there is weed.’

From under the table, you feel something pushing against the front of your calf, and your gaze flits over to Jungwon, who’s leaning a bit further back in his chair, peering at you with one eyebrow raised. Wordlessly, he looks at Jay and gives you a look, and you know immediately that he’s thinking exactly what you are.

“I’m pretty sure Yeonjun’s plug will be making an appearance.” He coughs behind a fist, and Jay sits up so quickly you’d think he’s been possessed. 

“Heeseung? No way. I thought he transferred.” The fact that that is what gets Jay to be the most alert he’s been since entering the library…

“He did, but he’ll never turn down a party.” 

—

Said party is already well underway when you step through the front door of Yeonjun’s place. 

It has been propped open to let in the cool spring air, though it does very little to combat the heat trapped inside, and it makes you feel bad for the neighbours, who are undoubtedly debating whether or not they should call the cops with a noise complaint. Music spills out from somewhere deeper in the house, loud enough that the bass rattles faintly beneath your feet as you step over the piles of abandoned shoes and get past clusters of people gathered in the entryway. The living room is stuffed full of students from every faculty imaginable, many of whom you vaguely recognize just from walking around campus, or the dining hall from first year.

"I told you we'd be late," Yunjin yells back to you as she catches your wrist, weaving the two of you through the crowd before you lose each other. "If we'd left forty minutes earlier, we wouldn't have to fight for our lives like this just to get inside."

You laugh, nearly bumping into someone. "This is your fault. You wanted to pre-game for an hour before coming.”

“Yeah, yeah, but imagine arriving here sober? I’d probably turn right back around.”

A fake scoff escapes you, and she lets go of your hand, looping her arm through yours as the two of you finally emerge into a slightly less crowded corner of the room. The drinks table has already been picked over by the time you reach it, with only a few bottles of cheap liquor and beer sitting scattered amongst half-empty bags of chips and melting ice. You settle for a random bottle of gin and what’s left of the tonic. 

"There you are!"

You turn to find Kazuha and Chaewon making their way through the crowd, each carrying drinks of their own, and it takes no time to get comfortable with them. Along with Yunjin, they round out your closest friend group. The four of you quickly fall into conversation, joking about the horrific midterms and about the potential ‘prospects’ at the party. Chaewon is eyeing some guy in a wifebeater, and you suppress the urge to gag at his outfit choice.

Every few minutes, someone new comes by to say hi and hug you all before going back to their little party group, and despite originally not wanting to come that much, you can’t deny that you’re having a good time. 

Yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own, because they keep drifting toward the direction of the entrance, hoping to catch sight of Jungwon or at least one of the other guys, since you know that once you see one of them, the rest aren’t far behind. Before your focus shifts back to your friends, a wave of loud cheering rolls through the room. Even from another part of the house, you can easily pick out his laugh first. 

Not long after, the boys filter in, Jake animatedly telling some story that has Sunghoon and Riki cackling, while Jay trails behind with his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. Following him is Sunoo, and beside him is, of course, Jungwon.

It takes him less than a second to spot you and your friends, his face brightening immediately as he pushes through some students to greet you. 

"There she is," he says warmly as he reaches you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, and pulling you briefly into his side. “You made it.”

Your heart flutters so violently it almost distracts you from the fact that, a moment later, he lets you go and turns to Kazuha, greeting her with the same easy side hug. Then Chaewon. Then Yunjin, his smile never changing. After him, Jake, Sunghoon and Niki come and give you hugs of their own, while Sunoo waves and Jay, well, Jay has already vanished, presumably in search of Heeseung. 

"Good to see you guys," Jungwon says, looking between all of you. "I'm gonna go steal some drinks before they're all gone." 

“Pretty sure they already are,” Chaewon snorts. He laughs, disappearing back into the crowd, and the second he’s out of sight, three pairs of eyes swivel and land on you. You give them a warning look as their eyebrows wiggle in unison, trying your best to wordlessly point out the very important fact that his friends are still standing with you.

Choosing not to indulge them, you deliberately turn your body to the left, starting up a conversation with Sunoo and Sunghoon. Before long, you're laughing again, the conversation having drifted between upcoming finals, summer plans, and the general excitement of graduating. At this point, ten or so minutes have passed, and you secretly wonder where your favourite boy is. Luckily for you, the next time you glance away, you spot him. 

Jungwon has a cup in one hand and appears to be making his way back when someone reaches out, fingers wrapping gently around his forearm to stop him. A girl you don’t think you’ve ever seen before stands on the tips of her toes, and she leans in to say something you can't quite make out from where you’re standing. He pauses immediately, turning his body downward and moving his face close to hers. Oh?

Knowing it’s probably nothing, your own attention returns to whatever ridiculous story Sunoo has now moved on to. He’ll be back soon. 

But time passes faster than you realize. "We're gonna move to the sunroom," Kazuha announces suddenly, gesturing toward the hallway. "It's impossible to hear anyone in here." 

And as your group makes their way to the new spot, your movements pause for a brief second when you see Jungwon is still talking to the same girl. She’s speaking, both hands moving as she speaks, and he’s listening attentively. They look completely absorbed in each other, standing very close together as they converse. And although you may like him, you would never stoop so low as to interrupt or join them, as much as the urge is there. It isn’t your place to swoop in and attempt to mark your territory, so you continue on.

A few hours later, it's clear everyone has hit their limit. Between the dancing, the socializing, and getting dragged into games you barely understand the rules of, your social battery is well and truly dead. So it's no surprise that the second someone floats the idea of leaving, it's met with unanimous approval. "I am starving," Riki groans dramatically, clutching his stomach.

"I vote convenience store," Jake pipes up. "I'm craving instant ramen."

"Nah," Jay counters. He came and found you guys a while ago, having wandered off to find Heeseung, and if his eyes are anything to go by, he definitely found more than just his friend. "Ice cream."

"It's three in the morning."

"I’m high."

Nobody can really argue with that. Within the next few minutes, everyone has managed to find their shoes and sweaters, put them on, and exit onto the street. Even Jungwon, who had been AWOL practically the entire night, appears. The difference in temperature from when you arrived versus now hits you right away, and you instinctively pull your sleeves over your hands as you step onto the sidewalk.

The walk to the convenience store isn't long, though it takes nearly twice the time as it probably should, due to the collective effect of the night's… substances. Jungwon remains a few paces behind the rest of the group as you make your way over.

His head is tilted toward his phone, thumbs moving quickly across the screen as the glow of a notification lights up his face every few seconds. He doesn't seem to notice that the distance between himself and everyone else has slowly grown when he smiles faintly at whatever he’s reading before typing something else, and you wonder who he's texting. Whoever it is, he manages to catch up again by the time everyone reaches the convenience store.

Twenty minutes later, you’ve migrated to the small park a block away, planting yourselves around a weathered wooden bench. Riki, Sunghoon and Jake sit on the grass despite the cold, while the rest of you perch on the backrest or sit properly. Wrappers begin stacking up in the middle as everyone steals bites from one another's snacks. You barely notice Jungwon has gone quiet until Riki suddenly points at him with a mouthful of chips. “Dude. Who are you texting?”

Looking up, and maybe shy from the sudden attention, the other boy quickly shuts off his phone, turning the screen over against his thigh before slipping it into the pocket of his hoodie. “No one.”

The younger one’s eyes narrow. “I’m calling cap.” 

“Whatever, bro.”

He doesn't touch his phone for the rest of the night, but you can tell he wants to.

—

The weeks continue on much the same, except something feels... different.

Initially, you can't quite put your finger on it. After all, nothing has changed in any obvious way. You still see Jungwon at group hangouts, you still exchange the occasional text, and he still talks and jokes around the way he always does. But at the same time, you’re no idiot. You’ve been in love with the guy for quite a while now, over-analyzing his every move, so it would be stupid for you, of all people, to not notice even the slightest shift in behaviour.

Evidence #1: He’s begun skipping lectures.

Now, Jungwon isn’t exactly the type to colour code his notes or chase extra credit opportunities, but he does take his studies seriously. He stays on top of assignments, shows up to class, and rarely falls behind. He wouldn't miss a lecture unless he was genuinely sick or something important had come up. Which is why seeing the seat beside you remain empty for an entire hour and a half without receiving a single text, makes zero sense. It’s just one time, though, so you don’t need to worry about it too much. 

But when it happens again, just one week later, you begin to question things. You don’t know if it’s your place to text him, or not. Unfortunately, one of the things that comes along with liking someone is the inability to be casual about literally anything. With him, you tend to overthink even sending a quick message, because what if he doesn’t reply? Or what if he does reply, but it’s super dry? Either way, you’d feel bad. Ultimately, you choose not to text him.

If he wanted to keep you in the loop, he’d do it himself. 

"You know where Jungwon's been lately?" you ask Jake one afternoon as the two of you walk out of your advanced analytical chemistry lab together, your backpacks slung over one shoulder.

He shrugs. "Not really. I think he's just been hanging out with some other friends recently."

“Oh.” There's a brief pause before you nudge his arm. "Well, tell him he can't disappear forever. We have one of our last miderms coming up and it's worth like thirty percent of our final grade." 

“Trust me,” your friend says, “he knows. I’ve been on his ass about it for ages.”

Evidence #2: He no longer keeps his word.

And that evening, after putting it off for nearly an hour because you don't want to seem like a desperate loser, you finally cave and open your messages.

you: heyyy wanna study together tomorrow? 

It doesn't take long for his reply to come through.

jungwon: yes i would love to :)) let's do our usual spot at 3pm

You blow out a breath of relief, a soft smile gracing your features. Maybe you were truly going crazy. He has a life, and though you’d love to be privy to more parts of it, you aren’t, but at least you have this. 

The next afternoon, you arrive at your usual table in the library ten minutes early.

In first year, the two of you found it, tucked into the far corner beside the windows, hidden just enough from the rest of the floor that nobody else ever seems to claim it, and ever since then, it’s become the study location. You spread your notes across the surface and take your laptop out of your bag, arranging everything exactly how you like it, and while you wait, you start studying. 

Truthfully, you don't even realize he hasn't shown up until nearly thirty minutes have passed. You've been too busy reconstructing proteins on Py-Mol to bother checking the time, your fingers typing away on the keyboard as you add more beta sheets. It's only when you finally glance at the clock hanging on the wall that your stomach sinks.

Huh. That’s… unlike him. 

You expect him to show up soon, stumbling in, apologizing for his tardiness, anything, really. You don’t expect for an entire hour to pass, then another, and another. With each minute that slips by, the knot in your chest ties itself a little tighter. The rational thing would be to send another message, like hey, are you still coming?  But the longer you wait, the more humiliating the idea becomes. If he forgot, reminding him would only make you feel worse, since you wouldn't want him to rush over, and if he didn't, well, then you'll have your answer anyway. 

Drowning in the embarrassment for having been stood up on a study session of all things, your thumb presses his contact until the mute notifications option appears. You don’t know why you do it. Perhaps the only explanation is to help silence your growing anxiety, your growing dread. 

You flip your phone over, set it down beside your pencil case, and compel yourself to look back down at your notes. 

Evidence #3: When you do interact, he gives you nothing. 

You’re trying your hardest to give Jungwon the benefit of the doubt, since it’s only fair. People get busy, plans can change, you know that. You aren't some unreasonable person who expects Jungwon to drop everything the second you ask to spend time together. It’s not like you need to be his first priority– you don't even need to be close to the top of the list– but a small part of you thinks that if he cared even the slightest amount about your feelings, then he would try. 

The next time you see him is a few days later in the Enzyme Chemistry & Biocatalysis course. Like always, as you’ve been finding lately, you notice him before he does you. Regardless of the fact that he ditched you in the library, you refuse to be petty, save him the seat beside you, and when he sits down next to you, you smile. “Hey.”

“Hi,” he replies, pulling out his notebook. You brace yourself for his apology, ready to wave it off and move past it, but then, to your shock, neither of you speak. In fact, minutes pass without a single word exchanged. You’ve never felt so awkward around him before. 

“So…” you begin in an effort to break the weird atmosphere, shifting in your place, “you never came to the library the other day.”

“Oh, oops”

Breathing out, “Yeah, I waited for a while."

Jungwon exhales, leaning back slightly in his chair. "yeah, sorry. Something came up."

Your nose scrunches at how thin that sounds, at how much more you feel like you deserve. "Okay.” The word comes out slowly, although you do your best to keep your voice light. "I get that. I just wish you had texted me or something."

He looks like you from the corner of his eye, not even bothering to turn his head fully. Then, “alright, my bad.”

You force out a nod, just to end the conversation, before turning back toward the front of the classroom just as the professor begins setting up the lecture slides. The words on the screen blur together as you attempt to focus, but your mind keeps replaying the interaction over and over again. Was it too much to expect a proper apology? You can’t help but think that the Jungwon of five months ago would've handled this differently.

The rest of the lecture passes in silence.

Usually, you and Jungwon walk out together afterward to go to the library or cafe. Today, you pack your bag and leave without sparing him a glance. 

At night, you lie awake staring at the ceiling, hating how much power one person has over your emotions. It makes you want to shake yourself. You’re about to graduate from university, for crying out loud! You’re not some high schooler anymore; shit like this shouldn’t get to you, but it does. 

When you interact with him, your entire day brightens. The bare minimum, like one joke, one smile, or one small gesture, and suddenly you feel euphoric. But when he feels distant or doesn’t seem to pay you any attention, it ruins everything. Today, your entire mood hinged on a conversation that lasted less than ten seconds.

Less than ten seconds!

You turn onto your side, pulling your blanket closer, your phone sitting untouched on your nightstand as your mind wanders off to a place it’s never dared to explore. Have you just been imagining it all, him pulling away and acting differently? It’s as if something between the two of you has shifted. Or it could be that there was nothing there to begin with. 

The thought is painful enough that you instantly try to push it away, but once it appears, you can't seem to get rid of it.

Did Jungwon ever actually like you? Because when you like someone, you want to spend time with them, you look for excuses to talk to them, you notice when they're gone, you make an effort.

You have spent years convincing yourself that there was this thing between the two of you. The shared moments, lingering glances, casual touches, inside jokes. You have replayed conversations so many times that you could probably recite his own words back to him. It couldn't all have been nothing, right? There's no way.

A realization settles somewhere deep in your chest, heavy and uncomfortable. 

Frustratingly, your eyes begin to burn. You squeeze them shut, willing the tears away before they have the chance to fall. 

—

Along with the last weeks of the semester, comes a resolve. A resolve to get over him. To enjoy the little time you have left of university and allow yourself to exist without Yang Jungwon taking up so much space in your life.

At first, it's liberating. You hadn't realized how much energy you'd been pouring into thinking about him until you finally stopped. Now, you can hang out with your friends without being that one person who can't stop bringing up some guy, and your friendships are better for it. The version of you from first, second, or even third year would never have believed you could go nearly a month without talking to Jungwon. And yet here you are, deep in your fourth-year glory, proving it's possible after all.

For a while, you believe that this is it, that getting over him wouldn’t be nearly as hard as you anticipated it would be. Except, faintly, in a hidden corner in the deepest, darkest crevices of your heart, you note that he hasn’t even tried on his end of the friendship. He hasn’t cared to reach out to you, only interacting in the shared group chat. And while you do see him attending group hangouts, he’s really only there physically, and even then, sometimes he’ll leave early or just stay to the side, too busy being preoccupied with his phone. Has he always been like this, and you just chose not to see it? Were you always the one initiating things? You'd like to think not, but honestly, you don't know anymore.

The only two times his name appears on your phone for the rest of the school year are when he needs something.

jungwon: hey do you have the notes from yesterday's lecture? couldn’t make it to class today

And because old habits die hard, you send them over. The second time, however, you find yourself hesitating. 

jungwon: missed another lecture sry. notes??

His audacity should be studied, you surmise. You don’t owe him anything! 

you: no sorry, come to class next time

jungwon: alr i’ll just ask jake then

you: kk

As hapless as it may be, not a single ounce of guilt courses through your veins. You’re past the point of deluding yourself that he likes you based on some arbitrary interactions, and you’re no longer going to try to get him to like you by doing random tasks that, in any other world, he wouldn’t need help with.

During the last group get-together of the semester before finals, your friends notice the change. Yunjin’s eyes flick between you and Jungwon as she takes a sip of her drink, brows furrowed in confusion. “Are you seriously not even going to say hi?”

Shaking your head, you look around the room “Nah, we’ve already waved eachother.”

That earns you a suspicious look. "Okay...?"

You chuckle, bringing your hand up to pat her shoulder. "Yunjin, I'm fine."

She doesn't look completely convinced, and neither do Chaewon and Kazuha once they clock it too. Throughout the night, they keep trying, doing things like trying to casually suggest getting another drink from the kitchen when Jungwon is there, or steering the conversation toward wherever he’s sitting. You’re on the receiving end of increasingly unsubtle looks every time he walks past, your friends essentially begging you to make a move, though to no success.

—

The final nail in the coffin is the night before graduation, on a walk down the same streets you’ve walked thousands of times. 

There is something oddly comforting in it, knowing that soon enough these familiar paths will no longer be part of your daily routine, that the late night visits to the convenience store and the early morning gym sessions before campus grows crowded will fade into memory. Everything feels a little more sentimental now, pulled down by the knowledge that tomorrow marks the end of this particular chapter of your life.

Jake walks beside you as the two of you take your last late night walk as university students, reminiscing about the memories made over the years: some of them silly, some surprisingly tender. He has always been your safe space, a friend who has never once judged you for anything, and maybe that's why the confession slips out so easily.

“Jake?”

“Hm?”

You stare below at the pavement beneath your feet, watching your shoes move with each step. "You know I've had the biggest crush on Jungwon for the longest time, right?" 

After a small pause, "yeah," he says quietly, "I know." 

"Ugh, I honestly thought something was going to happen this year." 

"I don't know why,” you continue, “I think I had some wild delusion that after all these years of knowing each other, something would eventually change." You laugh self-deprecatingly, "Obviously not." 

To you right, Jake doesn’t laugh. Instead, he looks ahead, his expression thoughtful. "For a while I thought he liked you too.”

Your steps falter. “What?”

He scratches the back of his neck, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "Like, there were moments where I was pretty sure. The way he acted around you sometimes..." 

You kick lightly at a loose pebble on the sidewalk; it skitters ahead. "Yeah, well, whatever he felt for me wasn't romantic."

It is at this moment that Jake turns to face you fully, and the expression that paints his features has your lips pursing in immediate suspicion. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Hearing him say your name so gently is enough to send your stomach twisting into nervous knots. With the hesitation lacing his voice and his obvious refusal to meet your eyes, you feel as though you already know what's to come. “I’m sorry I’m the one telling you this.”

“Telling me what?”

Jake looks genuinely upset. “Jungwon has a girlfriend now.”

At first you don’t react, not because you don't understand what he means, but because your brain seems to reject the information before it can fully settle. You had spent this entire semester slowly coming to terms with the fact that Jungwon probably didn't see you the way you saw him, and that was fine. You were able to accept that him not returning your feelings wasn’t going to ruin your life, and that once you let go of any expectations, the ache would eventually fade. But this is different.

Knowing he doesn't like you is one thing. Knowing he likes someone else is another.

The world around you continues moving, completely unaware that something inside you just broke. You hope it’s not your heart. 

“Who?” Your voice cracks.

Hesitating again, Jake watches you carefully, reluctant to cause you any more pain. "I think they met at Yeonjun's party." 

Ah. 

He doesn’t need to explain any further; your mind has already filled in the blanks. She’s the girl who grabbed Jungwon's arm when he came back with drinks, the one he was talking to for the rest of the night while you waited for him to come back to your group. The girl he had been texting when everyone went out for snacks after the party, who somehow became more important than the lectures he stopped showing up to, more important than spending quality time with his friends, and evidently, you.

All of a sudden, everything makes sense. 

You feel the familiar sting growing behind your eyes and let out a small, broken laugh that doesn't sound like you at all. "This is so embarrassing," you whisper, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to bury your face in both hands.

The tears come quickly after that, and you hate how easily they fall, hate that after all this time, after convincing yourself you were finally moving on, you were just lying to yourself. You don't want Jake to see you like this, not over something that feels so foolish and immature, but you're only human, and you wear your emotions like a badge.

"Hey," he says tenderly from beside you. Your friend’s hand settle against your back, rubbing slowly as he tries to offer as much comfort as he can. His voice is soft when he speaks again. "It's not embarrassing, okay? I promise it's not." 

Still, the reassurance only serves to tighten your throat more. Your voice is muffled behind your hands when you choke out, "It just hurts so much.”

And Jungwon having a girlfriend somehow isn’t even the worst part of this revelation. It is the realization that for almost four whole years, you carried around this hope that maybe one day he’d finally make a move, and yeah, he was making moves, just not on you.

You can’t stop your thoughts as they spiral, searching through every possible version of events, every moment where you wonder if you could have done something differently. What if you had told him in first year? What if you had been more obvious? What if you met him at that party, instead of her? What if, what if, what if. 

"I'm so stupid," you rasp, shaking.

Jake immediately shakes his head, squeezing your shoulder. "No, you're not."

Out of all the emotions crowding your chest right now, you’re surprised to find that anger isnt one of them. It couldnt be. Jungwon never promised you anything, or intentionally gave you false hope.

He was kind to you, he cared about you, and he treated you like a friend. The problem was that you took every small act of kindness and every moment of platonic intimacy and built them into something bigger because you wanted them to mean more, despite them not having that deeper message you seeked. And when you broke through that façade and saw his actions for what they really were, you didn’t know what to think. He didn’t start hating you or ignoring you on purpose; he just got a girlfriend. 

You wish you could go back to first year and tell yourself not to bother, because now, with graduation only a day away, all you can think about is how much time you lost on him.

---

A/N: there will be a part two!! i split it bc there will be a time skip, and i didn't feel it meshed well all in one fic. i will keep the taglist the same for pt2 but please comment if you want to be added! comments & reblogs are always appreciated :)

taglist @mariwon @boundlesselixirflux @periwinkleandtwilight @kkuroumi @sievenderz @bestboileeknow @won1yoiz @cinnawons @lotusglowii @human1errorth1ngs @dollhoonie @jakey1115 @raevyl

[jjongbat]

᭝ ᨳଓ ՟ WITH OR WITHOUT YOU

best friend!jungwon x best friend!reader ⸝⸝ female reader ⸝⸝ boxing au ⸝⸝ university au ⸝⸝ 26.7k words ⸝⸝ mystery ⸝⸝ angst ⸝⸝ hurt/comfort ⸝⸝ smart!reader ⸝⸝ yearner!jungwon ⸝⸝ detailed fighting ⸝⸝ illegal fighting ⸝⸝ do not try this at home ⸝⸝ mentions of harmful substances to consume (not drugs) ⸝⸝ kisses

ⓘ :: i did not think that this would take a month to write but here we are. i really hope you all enjoy. this fic has elements of hard-boiled detective fiction and romance. please ignore any mistakes that i wasn't able to catch. i love reading comments and feedback so please feel free!

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 YJW 001 // ⌕ masterlist // ☆ reblogs appreciated!

The light chatter in the White Fang Cafe competed with the lowered sound of Instagram Reels emitting from the phone across from you. He sits with his laptop closed, his phone in his right hand, and his iced americano held up to his lips with his left. 

“Are you going to get any work done at all?”

He turned his cat-like gaze up to your own, his dark brown eyes contrasting his recently dyed blond hair. 

“Don’t need to,” He shrugged, “And before you say it: no, I can’t get ahead because I already am.”

“How are you already ahead?” You exclaimed more than asked.

“I don’t know, it’s just easy.” 

You sighed and playfully rolled your eyes, mumbling “business majors” in an exasperated voice.

Jungwon let out a light chuckle and looked back down at his phone — jumping like a scared cat when he caught a glimpse of the time. You watched confusedly as he shoved his laptop into his bag and his phone in his back pocket.

“I gotta go,” He informed in a rush, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Get home safe!”

“Wait, Jungwon!” He turned around at your words, “Where in the world are you going that’s so important on a Friday night?” You raised a brow and kept a suggestive lilt in your voice

He laughed awkwardly — you could tell by the breathiness and the slight reddening of his ears.

“Uh, I’m going to the gym with the guys,” He slung his backpack onto his shoulder, “You know, gotta get them gains or whatever.”

“Right…”

“Night, Y/N.” He flashed you a smile and ran out the cafe’s side door. Out the window you could just barely see him reach his dingy old car and drive onto the road. 

You rolled your eyes. Jungwon was a horrible liar. There’s no way he was going to the gym and judging by the flush on his ears: he was probably going on a date or to a party and was too embarrassed to tell you. 

Then again, this wasn’t abnormal for Jungwon. He was extremely self disciplined and has been the biggest gym rat since you’d met him in freshman year. And if the way his biceps strained against the sleeves of his shirts was any indication: his diligence was paying off. But you can’t recall Jungwon going to the gym at 8 on a Friday night….

Your brows furrowed in thought. Yes, you have.

Well, not exactly but last Friday you asked if he was going to his dorm hall’s floor event — you’d been invited by some other dude on his floor but said you’d only go if he did — Jungwon had texted back that he was busy on Friday. And three weeks ago there was the release of the Michael Jackson movie in which you’d gotten tickets for the two of you on opening night. You ended up taking your roommate Yuna instead. 

You pressed your lips together as you considered the information. Either Jungwon has a girlfriend he never told you about, has become a Friday night party animal, or just really loves gymming with the guys on Friday nights. The easiest way, you supposed, to find out was to show up at the gym and see if you could spot all 175 centimeters of lean muscle.

After opening Maps to put in the address, you realized you have no idea what gym he goes to. You could’ve sworn you’d asked him before. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember his answer. You narrowed your eyes on the iMessage contact. Jungwon had a knack for sending you a selfie almost every time he found himself in front of his gym mirror — sometimes the mirror wasn’t even necessary. Just a selfie of him next to some equipment you wouldn’t even be able to name if you were held at gunpoint. 

You’d never looked anywhere else but him and his toned body whenever he sent you pictures but now with fresh eyes you checked the backgrounds for any hint of a logo or calling card. You flicked between two pictures — ones where he was sitting at the same machine — backwards letters stood proudly on the back wall above his right shoulder. An E and the half of a B. 

wonie: Fight broke out in the gym lol 

Your teeth plunged into your lips as you bit back a smile at the message Jungwon had sent with a nonchalant selfie two months ago. 

You: why’d you say that so nonchalantly

wonie: Eh it’s not that big of a deal

wonie: Wyd?

You: finishing up my reading for my next journalism lec ugh

You: free me from this prison

wonie: LOL

An uncontrollable smile had drawn onto your lips and for a few solid moments you lived in blissful reminiscence. Until you remembered that you were stalking Jungwon for a reason. 

You flipped through more gym selfies, forcing your eyes to not look at the person in the foreground. Of all the selfies he sent, there was only one more that showed a sliver of the gym’s name: E, B, and Y — that should be enough to search with. 

Your fingers across your keyboard wrote “YBE gym” in the Google search bar and watched the list of gyms load onto the screen. The first option caught your eye.

HYBE Gym 5★ 12 mins Write a review

Clicking the link to the directions, you packed up your bag, thanked the barista, and got in your car; silently praying that Jungwon wouldn’t think you were a freak for analyzing his photos just to find him at the gym. But then again, was he even going to be there?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You pulled into the decently large parking lot of the Hybe gym. The exterior was boxy and large windows adorned the grey walls. Those same windows made it incredibly clear that the gym was emptied out of all its patrons. It would’ve been easy to shift into reverse and tease Jungwon for lying to you about his whereabouts but something about the way that the fluorescent lights remained on had you killing the engine instead. 

Your eyes moved to the reception desk as you walked in — surely, there would be someone waiting there to scan your card or check your gym membership — no one sat in the black spinning chair. An uncanny feeling fell over you as you walked deeper into the gym, viewing the various large machines, the racks of weights, and the letters that you’d seen in his pictures just a few minutes before. You faced the mirror out of curiosity for what he sees when he sends you his selfies, your last look before exiting the strangely abandoned gym, until a familiar dark blue water bottle caught your eye. 

If it were a Hydroflask or an Owala, you’d disregard it entirely, but this wasn’t a normal trendy water bottle — it was the dingy, plastic one every freshman received as a welcome package into the baccalaureate program. And unless there was another Decelis University student in the graduating class of 2027 that happened to go to an insanely modernized gym, Jungwon was telling the truth. He was here. Somewhere.

Fumbling in your purse for your phone, you called Jungwon’s number, hoping that he was just in the doorway marked “Men’s Locker Room”. And when you heard the faint ringing on the other side of the door, you were certain that he was there. Only ignoring your call. Brows pinched together in confusion, why would he not pick up your call?

The persistent feeling of uncanniness crawling up your spine and the prodding of school deadline anxiety in the back of your skull had you losing patience quickly. You ended the call and knocked on the locker room door. 

“Jungwon?” You called out, “Are you in there?”

You gave him a generous three seconds to respond.

“Jungwon? Hello?”

After another short moment you pushed the door ajar and asked, “Is anyone even in here?”

You were met with nothing but silence. You closed your eyes and exhaled exasperatedly. Peeking around in the gym and finding it as vacant as you found it, you called out:

“Jungwon, if you don’t come out, I’m going in.” 

At first, it was an empty threat — why would you willingly walk into the men’s locker room — but the lack of response fueled the strange feeling swarming the place. And maybe, a part of you wanted to prove that Jungwon wouldn’t lie to you. You didn’t care if he had a secret girlfriend or had an unquenchable love for frat parties but you wanted to know if and why he would keep it from you. 

So, you took slow small steps into the locker room, making sure to put more force into them than necessary — just to make sure he would stop you before you committed fully and turned to see half a dozen nigh naked men. But as you rounded the small corridor, it was blatantly clear you had been talking to yourself for the past five minutes. 

The locker room was shrouded in darkness, grey lockers lined the walls, and one long bench ran in the middle til it met the section of showers. You turned on the flashlight on your phone and looked closer. The lockers were labeled with numbers but some had small plaques with initials on them. Locker 5 caught your eye: partly because it was slightly ajar, partly because it had the initials “YJW” on a small metal plaque. 

Flipping the locker door open, you saw Jungwon’s worn-in blue backpack shoved into the small space — obviously in a rush, since he didn’t see the strap of the bag sticking out of his locker and preventing it from being shut. His phone also sat in the locker, at an awkward angle as well, contributing to the theory that he rushed to put his stuff down. But if the rest of his stuff is here, why is his water bottle in the main part of the gym?

And where was Jungwon? 

Your eyes glanced at the only part of the gym you hadn’t gone to yet — besides the girl’s locker room but you had more faith in Jungwon than that, which is ironic considering the room you were in currently — the showers. Although, you considered, no one seemed to be in here anyway. With the small encouragement, you walked over to the shower section: seven uniform showers lined the walls, all but one with the curtains left open. 

Upon seeing the drawn shower curtain, you should have left. You shouldn’t have gotten closer. But you did. And with the way that the curtain sat, with one side over-drawn, leaving a sliver of space slightly open to view — you could imagine the events that occurred to have left the scene like that. Someone rushed into the shower, but if the lack of running water and indication that someone — anyone at all — was in this locker room, no one was in the shower anymore. So, with small steps, shaky hands, and held breath, you peeked past the shower curtain to find that your suspicions were right. No one was there. But something strange was. 

The tile on the side with the shower head and knobs was tilted and coming off the wall in one piece. You would’ve supposed that that was why the shower curtain was closed. The shower was broken, it was under construction, it needed to be fixed, so they closed it off. But you couldn’t accept that to be true when just beyond the tilted back wall, muffled yelling emitted through the crack. 

Stepping into the shower and taking a closer look at the wall, you realized that the titled tiles were not broken or falling apart, they were attached to a door disguised as the back of a shower. Someone forgot to ensure the secret door remained secret. As you stood with the door swung open, looking into a corridor with a staircase that ran down into a lower level, you contemplated counting your blessings, driving back to your apartment, and worrying about your homework in the morning. 

But this is what you lived for, right? The drama, the thrill, the investigation. Now the opportunity to explore was right in front of your face — who were you to deny yourself of that adventure? And Jungwon was probably down there. It’s probably just some rich frat house’s party venue because they don’t want to piss their parents off. 

You shook your head in disbelief, no way Yang “I get my work done two weeks in advance” Jungwon was a party animal. 

You shut the door behind you and trod down the stairs in a liminal space between caution and confidence. 

The staircase turned right and climbed down a few more steps before the room came into view. It was shaped like a stadium — bleachers around the walls with every seat filled with cheering fans. The lights were dimmed all around except for the center where everyone’s eyes were glued. And for good reason. The center showcased an elevated boxing ring that was adorned with visible wear and tear. An announcer’s voice boomed the play by play happening in the ring, taking care to note the names of the fighters as they threw their punches. 

It was useless. You’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. 

You’d also recognize that mess of floppy blond-dyed hair, that enviously tiny waist, dark cat-like eyes, and toned biceps anywhere — which is why it was a little strange that it took you a good seven seconds to compute the scene unfolding before you. 

Yang Jungwon, shifting and keeping light on his feet in the middle of that elevated boxing ring. Yang Jungwon, with bloodied bandages wrapped around his fists, throwing a clean jab into the jaw of his opponent. Yang Jungwon, continuing to advance and throw punches that didn’t quite make an impact before putting all his force in one that did. 

“And Jakah lands his attack knocking his opponent to the floor! Yikes! That puts BigHit in a real tight spot!”

Your head filled with a million questions: who is Jakah? What is BigHit? What is happening? 

The two fighters went back to their corners, their coaches handing them water bottles and wiping the sweat off their brows. From this angle, you could see Jungwon more clearly. His flushed skin, his big muscles, and the inception of a bruise on the left side of his jaw. 

“Jakah continues to show his ferocity and tenacity in the ring.” The announcer informed.

“Maybe he’s trying to compensate for his performance last week?” Another announcer theorized.

“I don’t know but what I can say is that he is relentless tonight. It seems like we might be getting our beloved champion back, what do you say folks?”

The crowd erupted in roars. It was hard to make out at first, everyone yelling out of unison but half the crowd boo’d like their life depended on it and the rest cheered with every ounce of breath in their lungs. You watched Jungwon shake his head and push his water bottle away, shaking his right wrist, and waiting patiently before he could lunge at the other guy again.

This was a side of Jungwon you’d never seen before; he was so sweet, and gentle, and caring, it was hard to think of him as someone who spent his Friday nights beating the daylight out of other people. You recalled what the announcers had said just a few moments before. If Jungwon is this “Jakah” guy then what happened last week? And what did they mean by “champion”?

Jungwon turned to scan his eyes over the stands and an awareness fell on you like an avalanche. You were the only person standing in this entire underground stadium. Crouching immediately, you hoped that he hadn’t caught sight of you yet. What would happen if he did? Would he get nervous and be thrown off? That would likely cost him his victory and part of his physical condition. Your heart started aching at the mere sight of a bruise under his jaw, you couldn’t stomach watching him get pummeled. You also hadn’t decided what to say to him or how to say it. You couldn’t even grasp your emotions under the dazedness of shock — it’d be better to talk to him later when you could think clearly.

A loud buzzer blared and the fighters took to the center of the ring. Their hands fisted up to their face — their guards up — and their feet inching increasingly closer to one another. Jungwon’s opponent started with a barrage of light jabs, causing Jungwon to pull his guard higher up. It took about five seconds to realize why this useless move was continuing on: he was pursuing Jungwon toward the edges of the ring. But Jungwon quickly found his footing and dropped into a crouch before sending a hard punch to his assailant's ribs. The crowd erupted in a collective grimace but Jungwon didn’t stop, instead he cracked his fist against the guys jaw with so much force that the sound traveled toward the stands. 

His opponent fell limp on the floor, blood dripping from his face, and a referee running up to check his condition. The stadium didn’t wait in bated breath, no it roared in controversy — even as the referee stood up and held Jungwon’s hand high in victory.

It was hard to catch the crowds sentiment when they all had something to say:

“There goes my 75K won!” Someone grumbled.

“75? I put down a clean 150!”

“And that 225K is all mine now boys.” A person from the row behind them gloated.

“Yeah right, I bet 60% of the stadium also put their money down on Goldilocks.”

“60%? Not after last week.”

Your brows furrowed in deeply, what do they mean “put their money down”? Is Jungwon the prospect of illegal gambling?

Your head swam in a million different directions before you realized that the stands were being vacated deeper into the basement. Suddenly, the shock seemed to dissipate and the temperature in the room felt utterly too warm. You stood back up, legs as strong as under-chilled jello, and saw the stands slowly become deserted. Your eyes glanced toward the center-ring where Jungwon had been only moments before but had vacated as well. It was time you left too. 

Before someone found you here.

You ran up the steps and out of the shower, through the thankfully still empty locker room, out of the overly modern gym. You passed through rows of equipment, spotting Jungwon’s abandoned water bottle and picking it up off the ground. You didn’t even know why you picked it up, you just did it on instinct and rushed out to your car. 

And all you could think about on the drive to your apartment was: is Jungwon okay?

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The screen of your phone on the darkest setting was still too bright as it shone in your face. The cursor blinked in its home on the message bar. A bar devoid of text. 

You didn’t know what to tell him. What to say. What to ask. It was all amiss to you. You’d known Jungwon since freshman year and never in those three years did you think of him as a guy that would knock a guy out so hard that blood pooled out of his mouth. So, what on Earth were you supposed to text him?

“Hi I followed you to the gym and saw you turn some guy into a pulp! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Hi do you know that fighting people, especially in an underground fighting ring where people bid on your success/failure, is super dangerous in multiple ways??”

You sighed and threw your phone to the other side of the bed. He’d probably text you tomorrow, you’d figure out what to say. Hopefully. 

Because if Jungwon was involved in illegal gambling and fighting — he was putting himself in so much risk. You couldn’t freak out, couldn’t go around accusing him. You needed to stay level headed. 

Jungwon didn’t text you the next day but he did text you the day after. Sometime around noon your phone pinged and Jungwon’s name lit up on your screen. 

wonie: Hey wyd rn?

You hesitated at first. You tried to convince yourself that you just needed more time to think about what to say to him but you knew that you were just dreading a conversation that was inevitable. 

You: not much, u?

wonie: Bored

wonie: And my roommate brought his friends over and they’re loud asf

You: LOL

You: just come over! we can watch a movie or smth

wonie: Want me to pick up snacks?

You: nah i have some from last time!!

He wasn’t what you expected when you opened the door. Maybe it was because the Jungwon you’d seen that night was stuck in your head: the way his sweaty muscles reflected the light, the way his chest rose and fell as he caught his breath, the way the ends of his hair were slightly wet, the blooming bruise under his clenched jaw — it wouldn’t leave your mind. 

But now he stood in front of you in his classic GAP grey hoodie, wispy bangs falling into his eyes, bright smile on his lips, and a jaw devoid of any discoloration. 

“Hey,” His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you and he wasted no time at the door. Just strutted in like he was your roommate, taking his shoes off and walking to the kitchen, “Do you still have that apple flavored green tea?”

You raised your brow at him, “Bro, do you know how hard it was to find those again? I had to go to a Chinese grocery store just to find them.”

Jungwon held up the last bottle, the red and gold label almost completely hidden in his large hand. He shook it slightly as he spoke:

“Wanna split it with me?” 

You looked at him with a flat face and crossed arms, “Fine.” How were you supposed to say no to that charming smile he shot you?

That charming smile turned into a victorious one that he didn’t even try to hide. It stayed plastered on his face as his hand reached up to your cabinet, grabbed too small glasses, filled them with ice, and then poured the tea equally into each glass. Your body slid past his as you reached up into the cabinet as well, picking up a bowl and pour out some chili-lime rolled tortilla chips. He took the empty packet from your hands and tossed it in the trash. 

“So, what movie do you wanna watch?” He asked, making his way over to your couch. 

“Mm,” You hummed in thought, “I’m not sure, what are you in the mood for?” 

“Not a rom-com. So, don’t ask.”

“Yeesh, what’s wrong with rom-coms?”

“They’re cringey, predictable, and boring.”

“I thought you loved Your Eyes Only!”

He gave you an intentionally nervous smile. 

“Wow. Okay.”

“Sorry,” He laughed softly and curled up on your couch, shoving the decorative pillow away with his leg. 

You sat next to him, taking the glass he handed you and setting it on the coffee table. Jungwon never used the coffee table. He’d just hold the drink in his hand, taking big sips of his drink and finishing it within the first ten minutes. He’d also pick up your drink and set it on a coaster because he knew you wouldn’t finish it before the condensation began to drip onto the table. 

“Hey, I think that new short series came out on Netflix.”

“Which series?” You clicked on the Netflix account and picked your profile. 

“It’s called ‘Manifesto: Day 1’.”

“Oh the alien one?” 

“Yeah!” He watched you search it up, “The fighting in it looks sick.” 

Jungwon’s brow raised slightly as he watched your body stiffen at the word “fighting”. The sip he took from the glass was audible but he laid his suspicion to rest as you fumblingly turned on the show. The list of episodes appeared, including Walk the Line the first episode which was an hour and 12 minutes long. 

“Each episode is an hour?!” You exclaimed only for Jungwon to laugh in return. 

“It’ll be good, don't worry.”

“Yeah okay.” You leaned back into the couch as the show began to play. 

The episode was apparently over an hour long but it didn’t feel that way — and not for any good reason. The show in its violence and action drew your focus on sweatstained memories and whims of concern. 

One of the characters had strapped someone to a chair and proceeded to yell at him with all the grace of a grizzly bear. Upon not receiving the answer he was looking for, he gave the tied man a swift punch across the face. It hit you hard — metaphorically — the memory of Jungwon’s bandaged fist pounding across his opponent’s face so hard that it left a sound reverberating in the small stadium. 

You weren’t sure if you’d flinched or not but Jungwon’s hand had instinctively moved closer to you. Perhaps in comfort. But you just stared at those knuckles — those slightly reddened knuckles — knowing exactly what they were used for just a couple nights ago. It sent a shiver down your spine. 

The bruises the characters wore, the ones they tried to hide, filled your mind with potent worry of all the injuries Jungwon had had to hide. Did he have his ribs wrapped under his big hoodies? Did he buy concealer to hide the bruising to his jaw? Has he ever gone to the ER not knowing how to explain his injuries? Has he laid awake at night in pain and had no one to talk to?

Your shoulders tensed involuntarily but unnoticeably — unnoticeably to anyone but Jungwon that is. 

Unfortunately, that very man was sitting next to you, dragging his eyes across your tense body. 

“Y/N.”

You jumped at the sound of your name falling from his lips. The flinch had him sitting up and staring at you intensely, eyebrows furrowed and all. Your shaky gaze met his steady one and it incited you with the most gnawing anxiety you’d ever experienced. You begged him in your mind not to ask. Of course, he did. 

“Did something happen?” 

Your heart stuttered out of beat and your voice was a bit too sanitized as you spoke, “What? No! Nothing happened!”

Jungwon’s face fell into an incredulous expression. His hand grabbed the remote and paused the episode before looking back at you. Staring as if the answer would appear on your forehead if he waited long enough. 

“Y/N, I’ve known you for long enough to know when you’re lying to me.”

Your voice filled with bittersweet laughter, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“What doesn’t mean anything.” His brows creased impossibly more. 

“I mean, it doesn’t matter how long you know someone. You never really know if they’re lying to you or not.”

Jungwon straightened and sharpened his gaze, “What does that mean?” He pressed. 

You wracked your brain for an answer it didn’t have.

“Nothing. It means nothing, forget about it.”

“No, tell me. It’s obviously bothering you.”

“No. I don’t want to talk about it, Wonie.”

“Woah, hey,” He held up his hands in surrender, “I’m just trying to communicate with you. I want to know what’s wrong because I care about you.”

“You should worry more about yourself, don’t you think?” You laughed as if it would lighten the thick tension building between you.

“What do you mean by that?” He had this half smile on his face as if he was prepared to turn sweet or sour depending on your response. 

A cold sweat ran across your forehead, “I mean you should really care more about yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

“Yeah… right. Sure.”

“What is wrong with you? You’re acting weird? You know I can tell when something’s wrong, we’ve been best friends long enough for that.”

“No, you can’t.” You argued, your voice starting to rise along with your body as you stood up, “I just told you it doesn’t matter how long you know someone. One day you can wake up and find out that they’ve been lying to you for years before you even close your eyes for the night!”

Something about the way he stayed completely silent with his dark eyes boring into your own had your heart falling to the floor.

“What did you find out?” He asked carefully, standing up slowly.

It was in this silence that you realized that he was waiting for your answer with a held breath, you were waiting for your answer with shallow rapid ones. Seeing him from this angle — him standing right in front of you with his broad shoulders and his big hoodie hiding his disciplined body — being hyper-aware of how aggressive Jungwon could be if he wanted to, it was a sobering thought. One that incited more fear than necessary. Jungwon was your sweet and selfless best friend: he’d never hurt you.

You swallowed thickly despite the fact.

“Nothi–”

“Tell me.”

“Jungwon…” The name was shrouded in tones of concern, fear, and disappointment.

You could see it in the gleam of his eye: the last bit of hope that you hadn’t found out dimming. You took such a deep breath your lungs stretched to its fullest capacity. You were annoyed at Jungwon for not telling you his Friday itinerary, you can’t be hypocritical and refuse to tell him you know. So, you released your breath of air and braced for impact.

“Jungwon, I followed you to the gym on Friday,” You watched his face pale and his eyes widen, “And I know that’s weird and kind of stalker-ish and part of me felt bad at first. But we have bigger fish to fry because why are you in some sort of secret, underground, WWE, fight club? And if that wasn’t illegal enough, why are there people betting on your victory?”

None of your questions were answered, “How did you get down there?” His hands came to rest on your upper arms. His touch stiffened your body into a board.

“What?” You spoke again before he could repeat the question: “How else? I went in through the shower.” 

“You went into the men’s locker room?” His face conveyed just how appalled he felt.

“Ok, if we’re counting cardinal sins, I think being a part of an illegal underground boxing ring and enabling illegal gambling takes the cake here.”

Jungwon closed his eyes and sighed, attempting to push your response from his mind.

“Did anybody see you?”

“Uh,” You shrunk from the intensity of his gaze, “Well, I mean I’m sure someone did but like I couldn’t name someone off the top of my head.”

Jungwon moved his hands to drag them against his face.

“Y/N, what were you doing there?! Why did you follow me?!”

“To see if you were telling the truth about going to the gym! I mean, Jungwon you’re always unavailable on Fridays and you left our study session so fast you might qualify as having superspeed! God forbid I’m a little curious to see where you go on Fridays!” 

“And?” He threw his hands up in the air, “I was at the gym. Like I said.”

Your brows furrowed in offense, “No, you weren’t? The gym is the upper floor, you were playing Rocky down in the basement with some poor guy — that you absolutely smoked, by the way — but that is not the gym!”

Jungwon looked at you as if you’d grown three heads. You felt like maybe you had. 

Jungwon licked his lips once he’d arranged his thoughts, “Okay, first of all: it's not wrestling and it's not boxing. Which means WWE and Rocky do not work as analogies.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes, “Second of all, I don’t really give a damn, Y/N. You put yourself in so much danger just by being at that gym and you have no idea.”

He ran a hand through his blond hair and you caught the way he winced when he tightened his jaw.

“Jungwon,” You spoke in a grave tone.

“No, you listen to me.” He demanded in seriousness you’d never heard from him before, “You are so lucky that nobody saw you. I don’t want to see you there, I don’t want to hear about you being there, ever again. The people there are dangerous—”

“What like you?” You asked before you could stop yourself and the question hit him like a truck, “You go there. I saw what you did— What you can do.” Pure, unadulterated fear flashed in those deep browns. “It’s literally a fight club, Jungwon. Obviously it's dangerous. There are people beating up others for fun… and money.”

Jungwon huffed out a disbelieving smile, “You have no idea.”

“Then how about you tell me instead of being cryptic. But that’s what you do, isn’t it?” The words were pulled from somewhere deep in your heart, “You make a life-threatening decision and then you don’t tell anyone because you don’t think it's that big of a deal. Or am I the only one who doesn’t know?”

“Y/N, the fight club is run by crime syndicates.”

You looked like the image of stupid with the way your eyes widened and mouth opened and closed like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah,” He spoke overwhelmingly calmly, “So, when I tell you that it’s dangerous and you should never go there again, you will listen to me.” His voice left no room for negotiation.

“And what about you? Why are you going to a fight club run by the South Korean mafia? I can’t let you go back there either.”

“I have to.”

“Oh, what a load of bull,” You rolled your eyes, “You have free will, Jungwon. Please use it to value your life.”

“Y/N, I can’t.” You knew what he would say before he said it, “I’m contracted under one of the syndicates as a fighter.”

“And you can’t get out?”

“The only way is if I bought myself out.”

“Okay,” You spoke like it was the simplest thing in the world, “Then buy yourself out.”

It only made him laugh.

Like really laugh. An uncontrollable, unceasing laugh that was tinged with something akin to bitterness.

“Why are you laughing?” You asked exhausted and beyond annoyed.

“Do you seriously think it's that easy?”

“I don’t know, Jungwon.” You were finally yelling. Your voice had been rising throughout the argument but seeing Jungwon’s lack of self-preservation sent you over the edge. “Maybe I’d understand if you actually responded to me instead of tossing me bread crumbs and hoping I’ve had my fill.”

Jungwon’s expression was so flat that it was difficult to imagine that he was laughing mere moments ago.

“You want the truth?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, “God, yes! That’s what I’ve been trying to get for the past ten minutes.”

“I can’t buy myself out because I can’t afford to.” His eyes had never looked as dark as they did now, “I have too large of a debt to buy myself out.”

“How much?” You sighed.

Jungwon looked at something — nothing in specific — just so he wouldn’t have to look you in the eyes.

“Well, the whole reason I joined is because they said that they’d pay my tuition if I joined their fight club team.”

“Who?” Eyebrows creased as you pressed for information.

“Belift.” He took your silence as a cue to keep going. “You know I’m a black belt in taekwondo, right? When I was searching for scholarships to pay for tuition, I saw one that required a black belt in a martial art. The scholarship said that if you could prove it with pictures of your accolades or with videos then you’d receive at least five-million South Korean Won.”

“Five-million? Just for proving you had a black belt?”

“No.” Jungwon answered, his tone wrapping the word in gravity, “The scholarship was something that had to be continuously earned. The scholarship is employment-based.” He sighed and closed his eyes, when they opened they were filled with newfound focus, “Okay, basically, the scholarship functions as a job. Once you’re accepted, you join their ‘staff’ or their ‘team’ and you compete against other candidates who received scholarships. You get five-million if you win the mini tournament they have. Then you get an opportunity to fight against another opponent for seven-hundred-fifty-thousand. And it keeps going on: you fight, you win, you get paid. They pay your monthly installment for tuition using your balance and you keep fighting for them.”

Your mind stalled as you tried to wrap your head around the specifics of the deal. As you were processing, a memory washed itself to the surface of your brain. The announcers talking about Jakah’s performance last week.

“Wait so then, what happens if you lose?”

He took a deep breath, “Then the amount of money you would have won from the fight is subtracted from your balance.”

You nodded. You expected that.

“So, let me get this straight,” You began to clarify, “You joined this fight club. You won the beginning tournament against other scholarship applicants and won five-million. Then you were offered to fight again with a bag of seven-hundred-fifty-thousand each win. But if you’re in debt with the syndicate — Belift — then how many times did you lose? Because if it's just a couple million then I have some savings.” His eyes filled with a poisonous mix of adoration and shame. “I can buy you out, Wonie.”

“Seventy.”

“Pardon?”

“My debt is seventy-million.”

The air felt too thin to stay in your lungs. Your brain felt too small to carry all your thoughts.

“God, Jungwon, how many times did you lose?!”

Jungwon’s eyes became unfocused — as if he suddenly became detached from the conversation, or perhaps the topic of conversation.

“After you win five times, you enter into a different level and the price of victory becomes higher. I won five times so the victory pay-out became one-and-a-half-million. Then after you win another ten times, the pay-out is two-million. And of course, as you progress to higher levels, you fight stronger opponents.”

“Ok so at what level did you start losing?”

“Seven-million.” He informed but was quick to add, “I lost a lot but not as much as you think.”

“You lost ten times?”

“No.”

You raised a brow, encouraging him to continue.

“I lost more than that but I’ve won some back,” He ran a hand through his hair, “Then lost it again, then won it back.” His his locked onto yours, “But it’s not because I’m a bad fighter.”

You furrowed your brows, “Jungwon, I was there on Friday night. I know you’re not a bad fighter.”

“No, no, listen to me,” He placed his strong hands on your upper arms again, “Before I made it into the seven-million bracket, I was undefeated. I was on track to winning against everyone on every syndicate's roster. After I made it into that final bracket, I started losing.”

“Because your opponents got stronger?”

“No,” Jungwon’s head fell but his hands remained steady on your arms, “Every Friday it’s something new. This Friday wasn’t so bad… but it still sucked.”

“What are you talking about?”

He pulled his head up to look you in the eye, “Someone filled my water bottle with vinegar.”

“What?!”

“I found out after the first round after chugging it.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“That’s why I went so hard yesterday. I needed to end the match quickly because I was getting dehydrated.”

Your lips downturned in concern. 

He paused for a moment before continuing, “And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t mad. Last week it was laxatives.”

“It was what?!” Your hand flew to your mouth to hold back your laugh.

Jungwon sighed, “Yes. My only options were to run out of the ring like a sissy or crap my pants in front of a thousand or more people.”

Your eyes stared at him wide but blank — unassuming.

“Obviously, I ran out of the ring, Y/N.” He tried to school his face into annoyance amid your outburst of laughter. “Yeah well, there have been other things too: stealing my mouth guard, blaring noises in my ears to throw off my balance, sanding the soles of my shoes flat, stealing my clothes. Everything you could think of.”

He took in the soft expression you gave him: eyebrows pulled, lips marked downward, eyes glimmering in empathy. He hated seeing it. He didn’t want you to feel pity for him or think of him as weak. That’s the last thing he wanted.

“Yeah well, I’ll let you know what happens next week.”

“No, what? Jungwon, who is doing this?” You asked him, “The sabotage is literally so unfair, get them to stop.”

“I would if I could. But I don’t know who’s doing it and I don’t think the staff would do anything about it.”

“Why not?”

“One of the rules is: in the ring anything goes. That's why I said that it’s neither wrestling or boxing. You can use any fight style, you can do anything, as long as you don’t bring a weapon and you look out for the tap-outs.”

“So, you can pretty much beat the demons out of a man until he taps-out? That’s so stupid… you’re gonna get yourself killed, Wonie.”

“Yeah but I haven’t yet.”

“Wait, but I have a question.” You watched Jungwon give you a nod with expectant eyes, “If the rule is that anything goes in the ring then all of the sabotage that happens outside of the ring is punishable, right?”

He cracked his knuckles absentmindedly, “Honestly, I don’t know. My manager and the rest of the fighters for Belift know about the sabotage but no one knows who’s doing it or how to stop it. They usually don’t target the same thing twice. I think they stole my water bottle twice because the laxatives worked so well.”

He spoke in a joking manner but his words tinged the air with salt. It caused your heart to ache for him — he wasn’t safe, he was being sabotaged, and he couldn’t escape. Before you could overthink it, you wrapped your arms around his middle and held him tightly. As if your arms were strong enough to keep him safe. As if your head pressed against his chest did anything to alleviate the ache in his heart. 

His arms wrapped around your shoulders and he dipped his head to rest on yours, “I’m sorry I kept this from you but you have to understand. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to get wrapped up in this mess…” He paused, his chest rose and fell as his heart picked up, “I wanted to protect you. I want to keep you safe. So please, don’t go to the gym again.” 

A wave of helplessness washed you onto the shore of reality. You wanted to help Jungwon but what could you do? You can’t fight. You can’t pay his debt. 

“Wait here.” You commanded before running into your room and grabbing that dark blue plastic bottle. “Here,” You held the water bottle out to him, “I grabbed this on the way out of the gym last night.”

Jungwon furrowed his brows before walking to your door and grabbing his blue backpack. Zipping it open, he pulled out the same blue water bottle: Decilis University Class of 2027. 

Your faces mirrored each other — eyebrows creased and eyes full of suspicion. Jungwon flipped the bottle to see the bottom of it, he turned it toward you so you could see. You mirrored his actions and showed him the bottom of the bottle you held. 

Even though the rest of the bottles were identical, only the bottom of one of them claimed in plain letters: Yang Jungwon.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“I’ve never used a different water bottle.” He glanced down at you with your eyes glued to the bottles.

“I know you haven’t. Which is why I wanna know how you suddenly acquired a second one.”

“I really don’t know. I took my water bottle downstairs.”

You turned to stare at him, “Wonie, if you didn’t leave this water bottle upstairs and you know for a fact that you brought it down to the basement then that means someone switched the water bottles.”

Jungwon furrowed his brows and then sat next to you on the couch, “Wait, what do you mean?”

“The water bottle I took home on Friday is Water Bottle A and the bottle that you took home on Friday is Water Bottle B.” Jungwon nodded his head, “You took Water Bottle A from the cafe, to the gym, and to the basement, but when you drank from it there was no longer water in it it but vinegar. And you came home with Water Bottle B and I found Water Bottle A on the floor of the gym. That means that somewhere between your arrival in the basement and the moment you drank from it in your fight, someone switched the bottles.”

Jungwon paused to compute the theory, “Okay, but that’s assuming I had Water Bottle A when I walked into the gym. And assuming someone bought our university’s water bottle just to trick me.”

“True…” You frowned, “But how would you even get a second water bottle? And how would you not realize that you were using two?”

Jungwon shrugged.

“Also, if they did switch your bottles on Friday, they probably did it last Friday too. Just, you know, with laxatives instead of vinegar.”

“Can we please not talk about that?” Jungwon dropped his head, his reddened ears hidden behind tuffs of blond hair.

You giggled at his embarrassment which caused his face to get even redder — just not for the reason you thought.

With his elbows on his knees, he turned his head to look at you, “So, how do we prove that they’ve been switching my water bottle?”

“Easy,” You smiled cunningly. “Go to the gym and make sure to leave Water Bottle B there and keep Water Bottle A with you. Then on Friday, take Water Bottle A with you to the basement, then when you go home that night see if you have Water Bottle A or B.”

He nodded, “But that won’t tell us who’s switching the bottles.”

“No, it won’t, unless…” You refrained from finishing the thought.

“No.” 

“Jungwon—”

“I said ‘no’.”

“It’d be the easiest way to see who’s sabotaging you!”

“It’d also be the easiest way to put you in danger.” His gaze held you in a firm grip, “We don’t know when this person is switching the bottles and if the other fighters see that you’re coming in with me?” He let out a huff, “You were never safe there to begin with but if you come in with me then you’ll have a bright red target painted on your back.”

“You’re being dramatic, Jungwon.”

For a moment he just stared at you like you as if you’d started speaking another language. It made you feel dumb, like you were missing something.

“Y/N, there are people that owe these crime syndicates more money than I do. Some of them get off to beating up other people, some get off to watching others get their ass handed to them. Most of the people there lost in fights to me. Most of them hate me.” He paused and his gaze softened, “They will use any opportunity to get at me including hurting those I care about… I will not let you get hurt.”

You nodded because you did understand him, but he wasn’t seeing things from your perspective.

“Jungwon, I get that. I get that you want to keep me safe but I also want to keep you safe. I don’t want you to be stuck in this cycle of fighting for these syndicates and getting deeper in debt while they keep exploiting you for money.” You hoped your eyes conveyed all your desperation, in case your words failed you, “I don’t want to lay in bed every Friday night not knowing whether or not you’ll be going home to your seven centimeter dorm mattress or a hospital bed.”

Jungwon set his hand on the space between your kneecap and thigh — a safe space, close enough to be intimate, far enough to be platonic — his thumb stoked your skin only once but it was enough for a shiver to run up your spine. His eyes were filled with the pain you only get from restraint.

“I know you’re worried, but please let me handle this.”

His hand felt heavy on your knee, like he was grounding you — or maybe himself — before he took the bottles and shoved them in his backpack. Stepping into his shoes and turning to look at you for a breath of a moment. Then he stepped out the door, locking it before he left.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

It would be advantageous to say that you and Jungwon acted like nothing happened. Like you went about the next week as you always had: giggling in lectures, eating underwhelming cafeteria food, sending Instagram Reels at stupidly late hours into the night, “wya” and “wyd” texts, impromptu hang outs at your dorm, and cafe study dates at your part-time job. But none of this happened this week albeit for a text or two and one Reel you hadn’t even opened yet. The week was categorized in unsent messages, stolen glances, and hearts full of unspoken words.

Friday wasn’t as mundane as the days before, not with the whirlwind of anxiety trapping itself in your body. Your leg bounced rapidly where you sat before you got up and paced then sat back down again. Restless and repetitive. Your whole body felt unbearably hot though your air conditioner was blowing enough cold air to give goosebumps. Your mind shuffled through thoughts, theories, and hypotheticals like the flash cards you helped Jungwon study for economics. Your car keys glimmered at you like a precious diamond at the feet of a burglar.

It was only natural that you’d find yourself parked on the side of the street by the gym.

Close enough to get there quickly, far enough to not attract suspicion. You’d seen enough movies.

You dressed in a pair of jeans, a plain shirt, a baseball cap, and a black face mask. Something simple and inconspicuous — something forgettable. You peeked into the windows of the gym which framed the empty gym. The attendant at the desk got up spinned in his chair absent-mindedly with his AirPods in and his thumb scrolling through videos. You took the chance to crack the door open, slide through, and sneak past him and behind the large equipment. He didn’t look over once.

You checked the spot where Water Bottle A had been last week, with the spot being empty, you turned your sight on the locker rooms. Since you were here, three hours earlier than you had been last week, you figured a couple things would be different. 

In fact, there were a lot of factors you were working with that were based off of assumptions. The first being, since Jungwon is in the highest fighting bracket and people started leaving after his match — the other brackets likely had their matches before him. The second being, since he never mentioned the scholarship having a gender requirement, there are likely women fighters as well. Which means the women’s locker room would have a door — or shower — to the basement too.

The only problem was getting down there without being seen. You walked into the locker room seeing it mostly empty and walked up to locker that was available. You glanced at the two girls who were in there, who were busy lacing up their shoes or braiding their hair out of their face. Your eyes glanced at their lockers to see two silver name plates: Huh Yunjin and Kim Chaewon. They were fighters in the basement. 

With your locker door swung out, it hid your face from view and you used the opportunity to removed the jeans and shirt, revealing a workout set underneath — as if you were about to ‘hit the gym’ or whatever Jungwon usually says. You thought this might happen. The girls would be waiting for you to leave so that they could get down to the basement; you needed them to think you were just here to workout so that you could follow them without being on their radar. 

So, you stepped out into the gym, walked to a machine, pretended to look for your headphones, and then walked back into the locker room. To find it perfectly empty. You threw on the jeans and tshirt and rushed to the back. And of course, the seventh shower was closed off only this time you had to figure out how to open it. You twisted and pulled the knobs but neither of them did anything. You grabbed the showerhead, examined it, pulled at it — nothing. You pressed on every tile all the way to the floor — again, nothing. You grabbed the hot handle again and pushed in and then twisted it like a normal doorknob — effectively opening the door. 

A strikingly similar staircase to the one in the men’s locker room opened up and you walked down with all the confidence of familiarity. The stands were packed but they were’t quite full yet. You looked to the direction the betters had gone after Jungwon’s match — on the ground floor there was an opening which led to a long counter with recpetionist and lines of people waiting to place their bets. You walked in and watched what the people did: how and in what order. Then you repeated.

First, stop at the ATM and draw some cash.

Second, check the roster and their percentage of winning:

Bracket 1 Male — KEONHO | 57.84% vs WOONHAK | 42.16% Female — YOONCHAE | 48.61 % vs IROHA | 51.39%

Bracket 2 Male — YUMA | 48.12% vs SUNGHO | 51.88% JUHOON | 47.46% vs RIWOO | 52.54%  MARTIN | 46.88% vs JO | 53.22% Female — EUNCHAE | 63.25% vs HAERIN | 36.75%

Bracket 3 Male — MAKI | 50.00% vs JAMES | 50.00% SUNOO | 78.88% vs TAKI | 21.12% NI-KI | 80.58% vs BAMKYU 20.42% Female — HYEIN | 78.62 vs MINJU | 21.38% MANON | 49.99% vs DANIELLE | 50.01%

Bracket 4 Male — HYUKA | 22.23% vs JAY | 77.77% SUNGHOON 63.25% vs NICHOLAS | 46.75%   EJ | 43.97% vs JAKE | 56.03% Female — YUNJIN | 65.00% vs LARA | 35.00%       HANNI | 67.36% vs MEGAN | 32.74%       KAZUHA | 57.82% vs WONHEE 42.28%

Bracket 5 Male — YEONJUN | 48.33% vs EVAN | 51.77%   SOOBIN | 13.44% vs K | 86.56%   TYUN | 42.98% vs JAKAH | 57.02% Female — SAKURA 79.00% vs DANIELA | 21.00%       CHAEWON | 55.39% vs YUNAH | 44.61%       MINJI | 55.55% vs SOPHIA | 44.45%

Third, place bets at the counter — with the most strategic and thorough consideration in order to make the most money possible.

Of course, you would not be making any bets today. Or ever. Because it’s illegal — then again, being here probably is too, but you’re not really itching to add to your crimes. So you backed out and found a seat high up in the stands, out of view from most of the crowd, near the passage to the women's locker room. And you waited. Through 18 long matches before you saw him. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him like this before, you’d seen him like this a week ago. Dark blue shorts and a simple black tank that hugged his frame deliciously. His thick biceps on full display and his broad shoulder wider with his chest puffed slightly. You watched him set down his water bottle on a stool at the corner that he would enter the ring on. The answer to whether or not that bottle was the one he’d entered with, whether it actually held water, or if someone had yet to tamper with it, could only be answered in time. 

Tyun was the opponent on the other side. He stood at around the same height as Jungwon and looked to be similarly muscular. Your eyes squinted as you watched Jungwon take in the sight of his opponent. He looked stiff and on edge. Had the sabotage already happened? Did it have anything to do with the water bottle at all or had they moved onto a different tactic. Your leg bounced slightly in your seat before you realized that the rapid motion would draw unwanted attention. You sat as inconspicuously as you could and kept your gaze on the dark blue water bottle resting on the stool. The announcers began their opening statements.

“Well, I don’t know about you Dino but I, for one, am beyond excited to see this match play out.”

“You’re not the only one S.Coups. You, me, and the rest of this crowd are ready to see this match between two of the best fighters we have in the club.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. Today, in the orange shorts, we have BigHit's TYUN, who specializes in traditional boxing. We expect to see a lot of feints, well-timed strikes, and strong follow through on those punches.”

“He’s also impeccable at blocking, don’t forget S.Coups.”

“Right, of course.”

You took in the information and attempted to cross reference it with Jungwon’s fighting style but it hit you — you don’t know what his fighting style is. The only time you have ever seen Jungwon fight was last week. A fight which he said that he had been intentionally more aggressive in, in order to end the fight quickly. His default fighting style is an enigma to you.

“In the blue shorts we have Belift’s JAKAH, who specializes in taekwondo. Tonight, you’ll see from him more leg work: kicks, dodges, body-locks and things of that sort. The kid is quick on his feet, let me tell you.”

“And aggressive too! Last week was abnormal for JAKAH — throwing mean punches and taking hits head on instead of dodging and assessing how best to attack.”

“That’s true, Dino, we did see a different side to JAKAH last week. Perhaps, we’ll see a different side to him today.”

“You think he’ll recover from his losing streak? Or was last week just a stroke of luck?”

You held back a huff of annoyance. Jungwon didn’t believe in luck. He believed in hard work and maybe the tiniest bit of Fate — but not luck.

“I’m not sure but seeing as TYUN is a reigning champion in the ring… Well, let’s just say I have my money on the safer side.”

Half the group erupted in boastful laughs and presumptuous whoops. You watched Jungwon shake his head before he pointed at a roll of bandages on the ground. A guy around the same age as him handed it to him. It was then that you realized a bit of a crowd had gathered in Jungwon’s corner: some dressed like coaches or managers, some dressed like fighters. Jungwon seemed familiar with all of them or if he wasn’t, it didn’t show. It was his lack of concern that had you not blinking your eye twice at them — until their bodies began to obstruct the view of the water bottle.

“I don’t know about that, Dino, JAKAH has the better odds today with over 57 percent.”

“Yeah, but TYUN has stayed consistent in his wins and losses.” Dino argued and you watched a tall, slightly pale, incredibly buff man with nice brows call Jungwon and say something that looked along the lines of “this announcer can shove it”. “JAKAH was undefeated until about three matches into the fifth bracket. Then he went on this massive losing streak which he had yet to fully recover from.”

“Top ten mysteries of the world, huh?”

Jungwon’s coach began to advise him, using punching and blocking gestures to demonstrate his points. The blond man nodded and began to jump slightly, shuffling his feet and lightening his steps. A woman — manager, maybe — handed him his mouth guard and offered him a towel which he rejected. The crowd, which had entertained itself with side-chatter, had begun to dwindle in volume and shift their attention to the ring in the center. 

You glanced over at Jungwon’s opponent and felt a wave of anxious heat flood through your veins. They did look evenly matched. Too even. But from the sounds of it, their fighting styles seemed contrasting. Like rocks versus water. Your head filled with silent prayers of victory as the buzzer sounded.

Jungwon continued to bounce between feet, keeping himself between groundedness and charge. Tyun seemed entirely more relaxed. He shuffled around Jungwon — the two of them in a dance with their steps on different beats — before Tyun advanced with jabs that were made for nothing but distraction. To pull his focus on his hands. Left. Right. Left Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Right. Right. And then knee up to Jungwon’s abdomen — which thankfully, the blond managed to dodge. Jungwon advanced this time, just as quickly as he dodged, he swept his feet under Tyun’s causing him to jump back. 

You chanced a look toward Jungwon’s team who crowded around his corner, yelling cheers and suggestions that sounded more like commands. Jungwon ignored all of them, bringing his fists up to his face and exchanging them with Tyun. Firsts knock into fists, knuckles digging into forearms, legs in constant limbo between pursuit and retreat. 

“JAKAH throws a steady one! And TYUN takes the opening! His fist just reaches his nose! Another light jab — it looks like he’s stunned! And a full-force punch blocked by JAKAH’s arms!”

“I don’t know S.Coups, that looks like it hurts. Hey, have you ever broken your forearm while blocking?”

“Hah! Not me personally, but there have been stranger things when it comes to JAKAH.”

You exhaled steadily as the crowd roared in laughter. Jungwon was backing up in light bounces and shaking his arms out. You weren’t a fighter but it was a telltale sign that the punch had left bruises that would soon start blooming.

Jungwon rolled his shoulders and took the same stance as before: fists up to his face with his fingers facing him. Tyun had a mirroring stance. Then in the blink of an eye, Jungwon rushed toward him and sent a kick low on the man’s stomach, too fast for him to block completely, which caused his hand to get wedge between his stomach and Jungwon's foot. With the momentum garnered, Jungwon used the foot he had on the ground to jump closer and folded his raised leg back in toward his chest before launching it up at Tyun’s face. Still stunned from the sudden kick to his gut, Tyun fails to dodge the attack fully and is left with a bloody nose. On instinct, Tyun jumps out of Jungwon’s area of attack and keeps his legs bent and his body small and defensive. 

“Whew, that’s the champion I remember! And it seems like the crowd remembers him too if the jeers are any indication, huh, Dino?”

“Yeah, what a flawless double-kick from JAKAH. The change in strategy from a boxing style to his familiar taekwondo was the perfect ruse and surprise to knock Tyun off his balance.”

You released a breath that had caught itself unknowingly in your lungs. The team in Jungwon’s corner was going wild — all nine of them, still there and still cheering. You noticed that six of them were in simple tanks and shorts, much like the outfit Jungwon was wearing to fight in. The other three were in black, one of them with white lettering that read: COACH.

“And he caught him!” The announcer’s voice rang in the room, pulling your gaze from the sidelines to the center ring. “TYUN’s got a hold of JAKAH’s leg, mid-kick. Now pulling him to the mat!”

Your heart raced, pulse pounding so loud in your ears that it drowned the announcer out. You watched Tyun straddle a fallen Jungwon, landing an immediate punch across his jaw. The jaw that had been hit only a week prior. Jungwon moved his hands to push him off but another punch landed across his nose — it had you wondering if that spot was chosen because of convenience or personal vendetta. Jungwon moved his hands to his face, blocking the onslaught of punches but TYUN didn’t let up, instead standing up and readying his elbow to dig into Jungwon’s ribs as he fell on them. 

Your hand flew over your mouth, leg bouncing uncontrollably, as Jungwon rolled over just in time. But as he scrambled to get back up amid the blood rushing out of his nose, Tyun grabbed his left shoulder and his waist and pulled him back before sliding his left hand over Jungwon’s neck and placing him in a headlock. 

“Oh! The tide turns quickly with TYUN in the ring!”

“Oh yeah. I heard some of the betters have started calling him ‘The Magician’.”

Jungwon's hands tugged at Tyun’s arms in a vain attempt to get free. You watched his legs flail to find a grip — anything, any advantage to free himself. His face got redder, his hands more desperate, his legs more erratic. The air felt unbearable. Like you were sitting in a furnace with freshly chopped wood. The sight of him struggling, the sight of his body thrashing in desperation, the sight of his eyes closing and opening erratically, it pulled your stomach in knots and drew sweat onto your brow.

Then his hand tapped repeatedly on the other man’s bicep and without hesitation the vice he had on Jungwon was released. Jungwon coughed so loudly it reached all the way up to your seat in the makeshift stadium. His coughs were scratchy like they came from the depths of his lungs and gasped for air greedily and hungrily. His feet caught on each other as he crawled and stumbled toward his corner. Hand convulsing in a “give me” motion until his blue bottle met his hand. 

His back fell on the ropes of the ring, his whole body weight supported as he leaned on them. His fingers fumbled the open the cap, coughs still falling from his chapped lips, and when he pulled the cap off, those same lips found the mouth of the bottle. He tilted it up and drank ravenously from it. His throat worked around two big gulps before he spat out a fountain of clear liquid. 

“Yikes… didn’t this happen last week? I’m starting to think JAKAH doesn’t wash his water bottles….”

The rage you felt from the crowd's easygoing laughter and gossip nearly overtook the worry swelling in your heart. Your eyes took in the way Jungwon’s face scrunched up, the way his coughs became more frequent, the way the bottle slipped from his hands, and his knees inched closer to the floor. As if he’d already accepted his defeat, he just wasn’t ready to let go yet. 

His team rapped their hands on the floor, yelling at him, trying to get his attention but he didn’t listen. Didn’t spare them a glance. Just swiped a hand through his hair, took a deep breath, and tried to find solidity in his body again. You imagined it must have been hard. He had just been choked of all the breath in his lungs and missed out on over a minute of fresh oxygen to his blood. He almost passed out, his limbs must still be recovering, his throat must feel ornamented in glass shards, and his brain must be all fogged up without the oxygen to help him think. Then add on whatever mystery liquid had found itself in his bottle that night.

How come you didn’t see who switched the bottles? 

The buzzer sounded before you could answer that question. This time, Jungwon didn’t bounce between his feet, he barely kept them steady on the ground. He was leaning to his right, like his axis had tilted and his chest rose and fell in a strange pattern. Tyun took the opportunity in stride, a quick feint with his right which Jungwon blocked. A feint with his left, then with his right. Then he grabbed Jungwon’s biceps and slammed his knee into his torso. Then he pushed him back and twisted his hips to send a deathly punch to Jungwon’s face.

Your body begged you to look away, your heart begged you to watch. It was the least you could do. The least to share in his pain. 

Thankfully, he side-stepped out of the way; unluckily, his balance caused him to stumble halfway to the ground. He pushed up, eyes always on his opponent. Tyun rushed him, throwing firm cuts and landing them anywhere he could. Jungwon’s reaction time was a fraction of what it had been before and his strength looked to be significantly minimized as well. After a moment, he held his head completely, suffering through the barrage of punches. He wobbled and fell to his knees, his body teetering like it was about to fall off the edge. Tyun stepped back, confident and in no rush, before sending a kick that tipped Jungwon over and onto his back.

It was like he became a fraction of the fighter he was before. It was easy to see — you didn’t need to be his best friend to see that — not when everyone else was aware of it too. Angry yells and strings of curses protruding from the betters in the stands. People began to stand and scream insults and mockeries at the fallen man below. Jungwon’s head lolled to the side, as if his neck had no strength to support it. His arms twitched and his body tensed but he couldn’t get it to do anything beyond bracing for the incoming impact. 

A kick to the ribs. A strong hand that pulled at the fabric of the black tank. A fist to the eye. Then again to the jaw. And a slam back down onto the mat for good measure. Tyun stepped back, body lax, as the referee counted from one to five in a booming voice. Jungwon’s eyes didn’t flutter open, he didn’t tap into some untouched strength. He just laid there on the ground. Unmoving. Soundless. Bloodied.

The picture of defeat.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

Pushing through the crowd was not easy. Not when hundreds of bodies were pushing and shoving in either eagerness or bitterness. You happened to fall in the former as you rushed to follow where the team was taking Jungwon. Unease swam through your mind like a rushing river. Was he okay? What happened? He was doing fine and then suddenly he wasn’t. Was the lack of oxygen too much? Were the hits to his head too hard? Does he have a concussion? Should he go to the doctor? How would he get there? Who will take him home in this condition?

The fear settling right onto your shoulders had you moving faster than before. Rushing past the center ring and to the wall at the back under some bleachers. You pushed through a set of matte black painted doors that you had seen Jungwon and his team go through. It opened into a hallway with slightly yellow, slightly dim overhead lights. 

“Make sure he’s not dying on me, alright? I got other people to worry about, right now.” A man grumbled before opening and walking through another door deeper into the hallway. 

You walked to the door, barely registered the bickering behind the thin wood, until a familiar voice punctured through. 

“I couldn’t breathe, Riki.” Jungwon yelled, his voice scratchy and unusually deep. 

“All I’m saying,” Another deep voice with a slight Japanese accent said slowly, “Is that you know that bottle is a risk and you still chose to drink from it.”

“You’ve never been choked have you?” A softer voice asked, likely directed at the boy with the Japanese accent. 

“Riki,” Jungwon said after a sigh, “There’s nothing I can do to stop the sabotage unless I know who’s behind it. It was a calculated risk.” 

Your brows furrowed in concern. Jungwon’s words were slurring slightly, his intonation was off kilter, and his volume was somewhere between too loud and too mumbly. 

“Yeah, a risk that caused you twenty blows to the head.” A different voice spoke flatly.

“Everclear.” This voice came out in a perfect American accent before returning to Seoul Korean, “They put everclear in your bottle and you chugged it.”

“Genuinely, how can you tell that that’s everclear just by smelling.” An Australian man asked in English. 

“I know my alcohol.” The American responded before returning to Korean, “Anyway, this is ninety-five percent, high proof alcohol, and he chugged it. If he didn’t lose equilibrium from getting choked, he lost it about five minutes after drinking this.”

“Yeah, his reaction time slowed significantly.” A sweet voice spoke next. 

“And there’s no point in talking to him right now because he genuinely looks on the verge of passing out. Great.” The first guy — Riki — said. 

It was at this remark that you opened the door, immediately locking eyes with a red-flushed Jungwon, who stood up straight at the sight of you. 

“Y/N?!”

“Jungwon!” You grabbed his head, ignoring the simmering confusion gracing the room, and checked his eyes for any abnormality. “How’s your head?”

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” His eyes were wide in shock. From the closeness, you could see his face already beginning to swell, the dried blood crusted on the edges of his nostrils, and a split on his bottom lip. 

“Oh God, Jungwon!” You exclaimed, “Do you need to go to the hospital? I’ll drive you. Can you walk? Where are your other injuries?” Your hands fumbled to the hem of his tank top, about to pull it up to assess the injuries to his abdomen, when Jungwon’s firm hand caught your wrists. 

His body swayed unsteadily for a moment, he blinked harshly at you, as if he was forcing his eyes to focus on your face and begging his brain to produce a worthwhile thought. 

“I told you not to come here again.” His voice teetered on the edge of passion and breathlessness, “I thought I made that clear.”

His voice held a harshness he had never before taken with you. 

“Yes, I know that but—”

“But what?!” He nearly yelled, the force behind his voice causing him to shuffle his feet to find his balance. “There’s nothing — nothing! — you can tell me that would convince me that you being here was a good idea!” 

“Not even—”

“Nothing!” He slid his hands to your shoulders but for what reason, it was harder to tell. To maximize the intensity of his words or to keep him balanced via your support. “How long have you been here? Who saw you? Damn it, Y/N.” His fingers squeezed your shoulders as he dropped his head. 

You assumed he did it to hide his face. Too ashamed to grimace in front of you or show any sign of pain, fragility, or weakness. 

“Jungwon, I’m just trying to help you.”

“Helping me would be staying away.” He grumbled, blinking his eyes back in focus to you. “Not intentionally disobeying me when I specifically asked you not to come here. What were you going to do?”

“I couldn’t sit at home knowing that you were going to fight someone and unfairly at that!” You argued back, hands coming up and taking hold of his forearms. Gently, knowing all that they’ve been through tonight alone. “I couldn’t sit back while you were here, alone, facing unknown threats from unknown people.”

“I’ve been doing that for the better part of a year, Y/N, I don’t need you here, risking your safety, attracting unwanted attention, worrying me, and distracting me from my job.”

“This is not a job.”

Jungwon brought a hand to his head and stumbled back slightly. He stood frozen for a moment before shaking his head and turning his tired, fuzzy vision onto you. 

“You’re here because you want to protect me from liabilities?” He asked rhetorically, “You are a liability.” 

You took a deep breath, expecting this outcome but bursting at the seams with annoyance all the same, “You’re saying I’ve made things worse by being here?” 

“Yes!” His voice hit your ears sharply. 

“Fine.” You nodded and turned to leave. Footsteps fast and gaze anywhere but the seven pairs of eyes in the room. Jungwon’s hand grabbed your upper arm sloppily and his gaze met yours flat, exhausted, and disappointed. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Back into the arena? Back into the gym? Then out to your car? In the dark? With dozens of fighters pent up from losses or high on victory adrenaline? With hundreds of angry betters and happy ones who think they can double their luck?” He didn’t even stop to laugh, “You think I’m gonna let you go out there and put yourself in more danger than you already are?”

“And what are you going to do?” You asked angrily, the words highlighting the way his eyes blurred in and out of focus, the way his body leaned too far to the right, the way his body was perpetually stiffened — as if the injuries increased in pain when he let loose.

And even with the drunken daze hindering his abilities to stand, talk, see, and think, it was obvious, his desperation. Your shirt clenched slightly in his fist, the furrow in his brows, and the helplessness veiling his dark brown eyes. Desperation was evident in the small details of Jungwon’s being. 

His devotion to keeping you safe was no longer enough. 

You watched the thought conceptualize as his grip tightened fractionally.

“I’ll make sure she gets out,” A tall man placed his strong hand on the blond’s shoulder. He had a small cut on his right cheek and a gaze soft enough to cover the room in confident peace. “There’s nothing you can do in this state, so let me take her home.”

Jungwon’s shoulders released their tension before tensing up again. If he tried to bite back a grimace, he failed. 

“And I,” A man, with angular eyes and the sharpest jawline you’d ever seen, walked toward you, stopping a safe distance away, “Will make sure he’s okay and taken care of.” Something about the way he stared at you as he spoke gave you the impression that he was a man of his word. And you nodded slightly and mumbled a thank you. 

And with one last look at Jungwon — or the wreck of him that Tyun left behind — you walked off with his friend. Hat pulled down and mask pulled up, the other boy dressed in a black hoodie and sweats. He led you down the hallway, around various corners, through an exit door, and up a staircase. 

The night air was cold and crisp as you led him to your car a few streets out, pleading with him to just let you drive yourself home, promising to text him when you did, and thanking him before driving away. The air of your apartment wasn’t any warmer, not even after a mindless shower, not even after you threw your duvet over your body and snuggled into the sheets. 

It was then that you thought: maybe the chill had nothing to do with the temperature in the air but everything to do with the warmth of Jungwon’s words.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

If the week prior had been isolating and strenuous on your relationship with Jungwon, the next week was infinitely worse. You had texted Jungwon’s friend — Heeseung, the one who offered to take you home — that you had gotten there safely. That being his only condition in letting you drive off alone. You had contemplated texting Jungwon too but the cursor blinked on the message bar continuously for minutes. You hadn’t typed a thing.

Instead, you messaged Heeseung. You asked how Jungwon was, if he had any severe injuries, if he had gone to the hospital, if he was at home recovering, and similar things of that nature. Heeseung responded quickly, said he was at Jay’s apartment. Jay, being the man with the sharp jawline. He informed that Jungwon was recovering but he was resting after the harsh beating. Told you that Jungwon wouldn’t be attending any of his lectures this week.

You had swallowed thickly and said thank you. Then went about your week as normally as you possibly could without your twin flame by your side. You attended your own lectures with disinterest but you eagerly met with Jungwon’s professors to get notes for the lectures that he missed. You went to the cafeteria, walking in with no appetite and leaving with even less of one. You skipped out on library study sessions, cafe study sessions, and you picked up extra shifts at the cafe you worked at. Pouring the espresso shot and steaming the milk had been something you’d intentionally been precise with, but you found yourself calling the customer’s name before you even realized you’d finished the drink.

As the days neared closer and closer to Friday, you itched to know. To know if Jungwon had recovered. To know if he was fighting again on Friday. To know if you should tell him what you saw or didn’t see. To know which bottle he had come home with. To know if he was still mad at you.

You: hey heeseung! i was just wondering if there was an update on jungwon’s condition?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Hey yeah he’s ok

You: is he back at his dorm or is he still at jay’s

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Uhh I think he should be back at his dorm tonight but he’s not rn

You: oh is he at jay’s

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Yes

You: can i come see him?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Uhhh no I don’t think so

You: why not?

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Because he’s napping rn

You: he’s not there is he? jungwon hates taking naps

heeseung (wonie’s friend): Yeah no he’s not there. Sorry

You: is he at the gym? 

You: will he be there on friday?

The bold “read” timestamp mocked you for a good 15 minutes before you got up. Changing into workout clothes and grabbing your things. Pulling up to the gym, you noted that it didn’t have that uncanny feeling anymore. Perhaps it was because of the time of day, perhaps it was because you were familiar with a different feeling that it brought you: worry. 

You saw him much before he saw you, though it took you a minute to find him. The gym was much larger than you thought and had an annex which led to a room with two small dingy boxing rings and a couple of punching bags. The bruises on his face were turning a sickly yellow, indicating the nearness of a full recovery. The split on his lip was scabbed over and healing nicely — you assumed that was largely due to the immediate dousing of alcohol it got, thanks to the everclear. The rest of his injuries were hidden beneath his clothing. The strength of his punches against the heavy bag and the lightness of his feet as he kept them moving proved the after effects of low oxygen and everclear had long filtered out of his body.

He looked good. Strong. Determined. Healthy. Glowy. Handsome.

It almost drew you into your cowardice. To flee from him before your boldness made you even more of a liability than you already were. But by that point he had already turned his gaze up to see you. And stopped the rocking of the punching bag. His heavy breaths were the only sound that traveled between you two and it made your mind race. What was he thinking? Was he mad? Why wasn’t he saying anything? 

He closed his eyes and released a deep sigh.

“I just came to give you this.” You announced, holding up your duffel bag with two hands.

“Your bag?” He asked with his brows drawn upward. His voice had returned to normal: no longer deep, scratchy, and cold. Just sweet, gentle, and warm. Just Jungwon.

“Well, no,” You unzipped it, “What’s in it.” You clarified and subconsciously registered his slow approach to you. You turned your gaze up to see him fully. He wore a black compression shirt and a pair of black sweats — the dark colors contrasting the lightness of his hair. “Here.”

His face was framed in incredulity as he took the rectangular box from your hand, “What is this?”

“Open it.”

At your command, his fingers made quick work and freed the product from the box. A 40oz, dark blue, steel water bottle — one of the trendy ones. 

“I know you loved your old one,” You started, “But I think this one would be safer.”

He flipped the bottle over to see the bottom and smiled slightly at the neatly written letters of his name. Letters written by you. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know,” You agreed, an ocean of words held behind the floodgates of your sudden anxiety. “I know you probably don’t want to know but I didn’t see it happen.” He raised a brow at your vagueness, “I’m gonna need a little more than that.”

  “The water bottle, I didn’t see anyone take it or change it. So, it must’ve happened before I got there or maybe when I wasn’t paying attention.”

Jungwon twisted the steel bottle in his hands, his mind chewing on the new information, “Yeah, I made sure that I had Water Bottle A before I set it down on that stool.”

You furrowed your brows slightly, “So then, sometime during the match? Someone switched it?”

Jungwon nodded, pressing his lips together, and staring at the bottle in his hands, “Yeah…”

“But the only people in that corner the whole match were…”

“My friends, my coach, and my managers,” He finished for you, “Yeah, I know.”

“And no one saw who did it?”

Jungwon shook his head before setting the bottle down. And stepping closer to you.

“Thank you… for the bottle,” His tone betrayed the next word that would come out of his mouth before he even formed the next sound, “But, you know I can’t have you here.”

You turned your eyes downcast and tried to pretend like dejection wasn’t seeping into skin like a soft but consistent rain. His hand found a vacancy on your shoulder and took it — another liminal space between intimacy and platonicity — which caused you to shift your gaze to him.

“These past two weeks… I’ve felt more estranged from you than I ever have and I’ve hated every minute of it.” He sighed as if it would alleviate any of the ache in his heart, “I care about you too much to keep going like that.” This thumb brushed softly on your shoulder, “I want us to go back to normal. The way we were before you found out about all of this.”

You knew exactly what that meant, exactly what he was asking you to do. Forget all you ever saw, all he ever told you. Pretend none of it happened. Tell your heart to not care so much.

“I’ll handle it, alright?” His voice warm enough to smooth the wrinkles on your forehead, “Don’t worry about me.”

“You know I can’t do that.” You whispered. 

His eyes shifted between yours and his finger traced the strap of your workout tank top, “Yeah but I’d like it if you’d try.”

As you took in his pleading eyes and felt the worry of his fidgeting hand, you supposed, it was the least you could do. For him. To pretend like everything was normal. To not add to his stress. To not make things worse for him. 

You broke eye contact, “Only if you come over and finish watching Manifesto: Day 1 with me.”

His soft laugh drew a smile to your lips. 

“Want me to bring snacks?”

You shook your head, “No, me and the apple green tea will be waiting for you Saturday night.” You told him, choosing Saturday since you knew he wouldn’t be able to attend on Friday. You hesitated to step back — to leave the warmth that his nearness radiated.

“Good.” He returned, his eyes had never left your face, fingers never stopped fiddling with your top, and his voice gave the impression that his mind wasn’t thinking about the current conversation at all. Not with a sight so beautiful in front of him. 

But all things must come to an end, as you stepped away from his touch and pulled your gaze from him. Increasing the distance between your bodies but somehow feeling less estranged than you had in weeks. You passed through the front door and into the parking lot, driving off with more of a day in mind than a destination.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

It would be a lie to say that you were calm on Friday. No, you were anything but. You knew you’d be jittery and anxious from the start so you called the White Fang Cafe, asked if you could take another shift, desperate to distract yourself. You even pulled a double but your hopes fell flat as you found your mind embracing the thought of him only seconds after you’d promised not to think of him again.

Everything brought your thoughts back to him. The iced americano you made for a customer named Harua reminded you of the cafe study dates that Jungwon and you would always do — ones where he’d always get an iced americano even if he said he’d try something new. The chocolate croissant you warmed up reminded you of the time he had argued that a chocolate strawberry croissant should be invented and not taking your word for it that it definitely already had been. The order of a lemon, ginger, honey tea reminded you of when he showed up to your apartment the week you caught a bad cold — you riddled off the recipe from the cafe and watched him follow your words perfectly from the domestic lighting of your kitchen.

For twelve long hours, your thoughts branched in every direction and yet they were all rooted in one thing: Jungwon. Not even the comfort of your bed could dispel your mind from thoughts of Jungwon. Not when your mind depicted his strong arms wrapped around you and the warmth of his body sheltering you from every threat — even the cold. You only wished you could’ve done the same for him.

As promised, a little after five, you heard a few soft knocks emanating from the front door. Your feet rushed there like a kid to a tree on Christmas morning. You swung the door open excitedly, nearly knocking a picture frame off the wall as it slammed slightly into it. Just beyond the threshold of your apartment stood your best friend in all his glory. Freshly washed hair, a black shirt that clung to his chest and arms as if it were slightly too small, and a pair of grey sweatpants that you forced your eyes to look away from.

You were expecting a face slightly more beaten than what he had. His jaw was starting to paint on the purple of a bruise and his lip definitely tore open again but other than that. He seemed fine. Perhaps his fight with Tyun was uncharacteristically brutal. Or maybe Jungwon had won his last fight.

“Hi,” He licked his dried lips, taking in your appearance as if it were something to admire. Though you were only in a tank top and simple pajama shorts.

“Hi,” You returned the greeting and stepped out of his way. 

His eyes swept across your apartment, taking in the coffee table which was arranged with chili lime chips, buttered popcorn, and his favorite jelly candies. Alongside two bottles of apple green tea and two cups with ice. The TV displayed the next episode on the screen, titled TFW (That Feeling When). 

“That eager to see me, huh?” He teased as he kicked off his shoes and took his seat on your couch. The same spot he always sat in. Grabbing his bottle of apple green tea and pouring it into the glass. 

Your laugh came out slightly unnaturally. Any normal person wouldn’t be able to tell but Jungwon was not just any normal person. You curled up on your side of the small couch and pressed play. Reaching over and grabbing the tea bottle, struggling slightly to break the seal. You switched hands and tried to recover your pride but before you could give a second attempt, Jungwon held his hand open, offering his help. You placed the bottle in his hands and watched them make quick work of the seal before pouring the golden liquid into your cup and twisting the cap back on. 

Wordlessly, he sat back and returned his attention to the show. Yet your eyes stayed glued to him. Him and the small curve of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the glimmer of his blond strands as the setting sun hit them, the light reflecting his dark brown eyes, and the dimple forming on his cheek as he fought back a sly smile. 

Manifesto: Day 1 was primarily an action show — it’s why Jungwon chose it — but the episode you were on had quite a large subplot of romance. The main characters out on the sands of a beach, the summer sun setting sipping behind the waves. It was ideal. Serene. Perfect, almost. An image of peace amid chaos. It was these scenes that had Jungwon pulling his brows together and letting the edges of his lips downturn.

The end credits of the episode began to roll and the soft music did nothing to hide the tension that had suddenly grown. You took a small sip of your drink and then turned to blond only to find him staring out into space. The second to last episode began to play, dark and action-packed, and fitting for the mood that had settled in the room like a thick autumn fog.

The sun dipped behind the horizon and the frames of the show flashed by before you could register that you had made it to the final episode. Vaguely, you remembered the scenes but they felt more like apparitions than anything real — or as real as a television show could feel — and while the final words were spoken by the characters, their voices were drowned out by the weight of Jungwon’s stare. 

His eyes seemed darker than usual, they seemed to carry more pain than they ever had before. The way his eyes bore into yours told a thousand words, ones you weren’t quite ready to see fall from his pretty lips. 

Jungwon wasn’t the type of person to give you the outline and have you color it in. He doesn’t like small talk, or beating around the bush, or making someone read between the lines. He doesn’t speak with fine print in the footnotes of his sentences and he hated peeling bandaids off. 

“Y/N, I think we need to talk.”

Avoiding it was pointless. When Jungwon made his mind up about something, that was it. There was no negotiation. And yet somehow, you found yourself shaking your head. 

“No…” You stood up, shaking your head as you looked down at him. 

He averted his eyes from you and released a deep sigh, “I got a message last night. A picture of you and I at the gym.” He paused, “There was no caption, no number attached, but the message was clear.” He turned to look into your eyes. “You aren’t safe.” 

Your brows creased, “Okay but that’s fine, right? We agreed that I’d never go to the gym again.” Your heart thumped erratically as if it knew something your brain hadn’t found out yet. 

Jungwon bowed his head and then shook it slightly, standing up from his spot on the couch and turning to pour every emotion held within his dark eyes into yours. You could barely hear him over the rush of blood in your veins.

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long.” He whispered, placing his hands on your biceps. “I’ve put you in more and more danger and I was careless.” His thumbs brushed your skin. He swallowed painfully, eyebrows creasing as he desperately searched for the right words. “I know I told you that staying away from the gym was enough, but it’s far too late for that now.” Hesitance chased the path of his eyes as he looked back at yours, “Your life has been put at risk because of me and I—” He ripped his head to the side, pressing his lips together. 

He slid his hands across your shoulders and up your neck, before cupping your cheeks — entirely intimate, barely if at all platonic — and holding your gaze all the same. There was no room for argument in his words. The hot press of fear crawled up the back of your neck: everpresent, ever-unwelcome.

“Y/N, I love you more than I could ever express. Which is why I refuse to put you in danger any longer.” His voice was gruff and his eyes shone glossy. “Please don’t misunderstand me when I tell you that I would give everything just to have you… but I can’t — I won’t — be the reason that someone hurts you.”

You shook your head and swallowed, eyes stinging and filling with bitter tears, “So what does that mean? What are you saying?” His eyebrows furrowed deeper at the way your voice restrained the emotion bursting within your heart. A biohazardous concoction of emotions: fear, sadness, frustration, disappointment, embarrassment, longing, dread, love. All in a vile poison seeping through your veins.

Jungwon licked his drying lips, “I’m saying this is it for us. Being around me puts you in too much danger. I’m not willing to risk your life just because I love you.” His voice faltered at the end of his sentence. 

“But that’s not your choice to make, Jungwon!” Your voice was brittle and you tried to ignore how comforting his hands felt as he swiped your tears away. “You don’t get to decide whether I can stop being around you or not.”

“This is the only way to protect you. This is the only solution. There’s no other choice.” 

He chewed slightly on his bottom lip. Your lips shivered as you tried to form words but your voice had been robbed from you. There was everything to say and no way to put it — not in a way that Jungwon would ever agree with. He cared for you too dearly to stand idle in the face of what could hurt you. Even if the thing that could hurt you is himself.

Jungwon’s dark eyes dragged from your equally intensive gaze, down your tear stained cheeks, and landed on your quivering lips. He stared at them with the utmost of longing, as if he was grieving something within reach that was never to be had. Your eyes followed suit. 

Breaths mixed with essays of unspoken words amid love confession tainted with dreadful farewells. You almost despised how easy it was for him to cause butterflies to invade your stomach despite the ever-growing pit. 

He was utterly selfish. At least that’s what he told himself as he closed the distance between the two of you. Stopping only centimeters away from your face. 

“God, I love you more than you will ever know.” He whispered, waiting for a rebuttal or a rejection. The silence encouraged his eyes to close and his lips to brush yours like a feather. Like you were delicate. Like he wasn’t allowing himself to commit. 

He heaved a breath onto your lips and pressed your foreheads together. With his eyes closed, he couldn’t see the tears flowing from your eyes or the way your face contorted as you spoke. 

“You’re saying that you’re leaving me because you love me…” You paused to renew your fading voice, “If that’s true then… I really wish you loved me less.” 

Your vision took in the way his screwed shut — big tears dropping from the sides of his pretty eyes. And as if he couldn’t endure the sight of your grief caused at his hand, he moved his lips up to your forehead and pressed a soft kiss.

Then he ripped his hands from you as if he knew that if he kept holding onto you, he would never let you go. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“Okay,” You breathed out and set down the iced vanilla latte on the table, “I’m really glad you agreed to come see me.” You slid into the seat across from your guest. He looked much different in the lighting of the cafe — not necessarily because of the lighting but because he forwent the boxing shorts and compression shirts.

“Yeah, no problem.” He gave you a small smile, “And thanks for the free latte.”

“Of course! It’s the least I could do to repay this favor.” He nodded and took a sip of the latte, “Also technically, I got it for free too, since I work here.”

At his nod, you felt maybe you had invalidated his gratefulness at your gesture. You frowned slightly and pulled out your notebook and pen before you began to speak.

“Alright, so, like I said on the phone, I had a few questions about the whole uh… gym thing,” You introduced, “And I was wondering if you’d be able to give me some answers.”

“Yeah, I actually had a question about that.” He continued at your nod, “Why don’t you just ask Jungwon?”

It was incredibly difficult to ignore the way your heart ached at the sound of his name, “Oh, you know him. He doesn’t like to talk about it.” After a sip of your own drink, you asked your first question. “So, let’s start with the basics: how does the betting system actually work?”

Heeseung sighed as he gathered his thoughts, “Well, I’ve never actually placed a bet there but I know the basic procedure. You first draw cash from the ATM.” He paused, considering what he just said, before adding to it, “All bets must be paid in cash because they want the littlest paper or digital trail possible. After they draw the money, they check the scoreboard and the percentage chance of winning that each fighter has in their respective matches. After they decide who to vote for, they bring their bets to the front desks, fill out a piece of paper with their betting information, and give it to the attendants.”

You nodded. Everything that he informed you of was what you had already seen when you were last there. You saw the ATMs, you saw the scoreboard, you saw the three attendants at their desks handing slips of betting information. Since he wasn’t offering information beyond that, you had to pry it out yourself.

“So, what happens to the betting money and how do people get paid?”

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat, “The attendants collect the money into pools: one for each fighter. The pools’ amount is based on the amount collected from those voting for them. The pool of whoever wins the fight, keeps its money and adds on the pool from the loser. The money is then distributed from the joined pool but it's all based on percentages.”

Both yours and Heeseung’s attention was drawn at the booming voice from behind the counter. Your heart dropped to the floor as your coworker called some customer’s name to pick up their drink. It was unfortunate that the name “Jungyeon” sounded a bit too much like “Jungwon”. You shook your head to rid your body of the sudden adrenaline and to regain focus. “Uh… wait I’m confused, what do you mean?” You asked him to clarify.

Heeseung sighed, “You should really just get Jungwon to tell you, he’s a business major and knows how to talk about money in a way that’s more… understandable.”

“No, no,” You waved your hands, “You’re doing just fine! Maybe just an example would help me understand it more!”

He took a moment to consider before nodding his head, “Alright, let’s say Jungwon and I are in a match together. The odds of me winning are higher than Jungwon by a sixty-eight percent to thirty-two percent split… don’t look at me like that.”

You dropped your raised brow and stifled a laugh, “Sorry, continue.”

“More people are willing to bet on me than Jungwon because I’m more likely to win. However their payout is smaller. For example, if you were to bet fifteen-thousand on me then you’d only receive eighteen-thousand if I won. But if you put fifteen-thousand on Jungwon then you’d get twenty-two-thousand if he won, because he had worse odds.”

“Oh,” You dragged the sound out, “Okay, I get it. The reward you get from betting is bigger when you bet on the underdog because it's more risky!”

“Yeah, exactly. But that’s just one layer of many. The next thing you have to understand is what happens to the money after one of us wins. If my betting pool is one-million and Jungwon’s is five-hundred-thousand, the pool of the loser is allocated to the pool of the winner. Meaning, if I won, then that five-hundred-thousand from Jungwon’s pool would be allocated to mine.”

“Got it. The winner gets all the money.”

“Well, not really.” He sighed and took a sip of his drink, his furrowed brows a clear sign of his deliberation in how to explain, “That one-point-five-million would then be distributed among the betters and to the syndicate of the champion. The syndicate always places a bet on their fighter, so if their fighter wins then they receive their payout. But normal betters also receive theirs.”

“Wait, so the winner of the fight doesn’t get any money?”

“Uh…” He thought for a moment, looking off to the other side of the cafe and then back toward you, “I’m not sure how other syndicates do it but in BE:LIFT, they give a set price per match. At the level Jungwon and I fight at, we receive seven-million per win. Jungwon, I believe, has his winnings deposited directly toward his tuition but I have mine deposited to my bank account.”

You nodded, scribbling down a note that was just out of Heeseung’s view, “Alright so just to recap: the more the odds are in favor of a person, the less the payout will be if you bet on that fighter and both pools of bets are collected to be distributed to the betters of the champion?”

“Correct.”

“Okay, great.” You furrowed your brows and began bouncing your leg. You were unsure how Heeseung would take the next topic and if he’d refuse to answer. You needed to broach the subject very carefully in order to get the information you wanted. 

Where Jungwon was a guy that struggled to beat around the bush, you could do it all day long. Jungwon was direct, straightforward, and blunt to a fault, but you could play between the lines, skid along the edge, and walk gracefully across eggshells — getting the answer you wanted without having the person know that they’d given it to you.

“Actually, Heeseung, I was wondering,” You took a sip of your drink to feign nonchalance, “Jungwon mentioned that anything goes in the ring but how does that pertain to sabotage?”

Heeseung sat back in his seat, visually and literally taken aback, “Wow, um… I guess, sabotage isn’t really allowed. I mean, Jungwon is really the first person that I’ve seen get sabotaged but even then, I only know he gets sabotaged because I’m his friend. I don’t think others know.”

“Okay…” Your heart began to speed up a little at the prospect of having to prod for more information, “But I thought the sabotage had been going on for a while? You’re saying that no one but you, Jungwon, and the other five have noticed?”

The man chewed slightly on the straw of his drink, “I guess it has been a while hasn’t it? Jungwon doesn’t like to talk about it much.” He took a breath before continuing, “The sabotage that they put Jungwon through has been pretty undercover. Not only how they pull it off but the actual things themselves. Like, one time they stole Jungwon’s mouthguard, which meant the whole game he had to be extra careful not to get hit in the face. Which slows you down more than you’d realize.”

“Yeah, I bet…” You frowned. You’d seen Jungwon get hit in the face more times than you liked, but you never realized how much worse it could have been if he didn’t have something as simple as a mouthguard. 

Snapshots of Jungwon flashed through your mind: one where leaned against the bars of the boxing ring, skin glistening with sweat, and his eyes glancing toward the crowd; one where he sat in your living room, face petrified with fear, and his voice tense in worry; another where his body convulsed, his feet scrambled to purchase solid ground, and his hands clawing desperately at another man's arm around his neck; another where he brings his lips so close to yours they barely brush, and you know he wants more, you know you want more, but he rips his hands away and calls it noble, even as he leaves with two bloodied hearts in his wake.

You pressed your eyes together to rid yourself of the thoughts — the memories — and instead bring your attention to the task at hand.

You knew what you wanted to ask — you’d been wanting to ask it since Jungwon told you that the people who could have sabotaged him on the night you were there were the nine people in his corner. You figured that it wasn’t the other six fighters because they had no reason to sabotage Jungwon who was, not only their friend, but also not their opponent. Fighters from the syndicates did not fight each other. Therefore, the only other suspects are the managers and the coach. Who almost equally didn’t have a reason to sabotage Jungwon. 

You tread carefully with your next question, “Aren’t the managers or the coach supposed to make sure that you guys have all the things you need to fight, though?”

“Yeah, and they usually do.” Heeseung sighed, “I don’t know, maybe… no, that can’t be it.”

“What?”

“Well, our managers are relatively new.” He shrugged, “One of them was hired four months ago and the other was hired maybe two weeks later? I was gonna say that it might be that they forgot to make sure he had his mouthguard because they were new. But they had been working for about two months at the time of this incident.”

You nodded, the scratch of your pen against paper drowning in the sound of the collective chatter in the cafe. “Is anyone figuring it out?” You asked next, your eyes glancing at him while you continued to write, “Shouldn’t the coach or someone do something about this ongoing sabotage?”

Heeseung scratched his forehead, “He really should be but… I’m not sure if he is.” Heesueng tapped his fingers rhythmically on the surface of the table, “I think he mentioned it to Kim Taeho once but nothing has happened to stop it.” “Who’s Kim Taeho?”

“The big boss…” He said with his eyes pointed, “The man at the top.” “Right, so shouldn’t he want Jungwon to win all of his fights? Isn’t he forced to bet on all his fighters? Why hasn’t he done anything to stop this?”

“I’m not sure,” His face was downcast, “And yeah, he is forced to bet for all his fighters. It's a rule all the syndicates have. Even if the odds aren’t in their favor at all, they still have to put an equal wager on their fighter.”

“An equal wager to the other syndic—”

“Y/N.” A voice next to you spoke flatly. You turned to see your manager's unamused face, “Your shift started ten minutes ago.”

Both you and Heeseung stared at her like deers in headlights.

“Oh.”

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You had officially met all the prerequisites to be instated in a mental asylum. On the blank part of your wall, next to your window and parallel to your bed, you had sticky notes and thin red washi-tape to mimic those detective boards in all the movies. Among an array of sticky notes were three that were all in a row, they read: The Coach, Manager 1, and Manager 2. Both managers had been crossed out leaving just the coach, you had asked Heeseung for the coach’s name before you had left for your shift. His name, in fine print on the sticky note, was Park Hyun. 

Your conversation with Heeseung had turned out to be more fruitful than you had ever anticipated it to be. You were able to remove the two managers from your small list of suspects based on two conversations you had: one with Jungwon and one with Heeseung. From your conversation with Jungwon, a few weeks ago, you had learnt that the sabotage had been happening for the better part of a year. In your conversation with Heeseung, you had learnt that the managers had only been working there for about four months — making it impossible for them to have been pulling off the sabotage. This left only one suspect: the coach.

The next thing to do was to answer why the coach was sabotaging his own fighter. Though the answer was obvious, right? You would only sabotage someone if you were betting for the other side. The coach must be sabotaging Jungwon to ensure that he loses in order to win his bets every time, instead of helping him become an unbeatable opponent. Therefore, the only thing you had left to do was prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the coach was sabotaging Jungwon because he was betting against him. Once you did that, you could send off your evidence to this Kim Taeho guy and get Jungwon fair chances to dig himself out of his own grave.

The only issue was: how were you going to prove the coach was sabotaging and betting against Jungwon? And how would you get the leader of a crime syndicate to look or care about the evidence — if you could even get his contact information in the first place. You ripped your gaze from the mess of sticky notes and red washi-tape, pacing around your room, and fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. 

Your eyes glanced at the phone tossed haphazardly on your bed. A slightly worn polaroid of you and Jungwon, with big smiles and frosting smeared over your faces at Jungwon’s birthday last year, laid sandwiched between your phone and its clear case. Your eyes stung at the sight and a panging pain entered your wounded heart. You hadn’t spoken to him in days and you had discovered that the absence of his words hurt more than his goodbye ever did. 

Under normal circumstances, you could have asked Jungwon for help and he would’ve been at your side before you could even finish the ask. Because that was Jungwon. He stole your bottle straight from your hands, wordlessly, to help you open the cap. He walked into your apartment like he owned it and he took care of it like he lived there. Dinners where he’d do all your dishes, not just the ones he dirtied. Without asking, he’d take your trash out, giving you a small smile when he’d come back to find the bag already replaced. Like teamwork came just as naturally to the two of you as acts of service came to him. 

You wondered whether he’d even pick up if you called. This was Jungwon, he’d always pick up as soon as he saw the flash of your face and name light up his screen. Then again, this was Jungwon, who would do anything and everything in his power to keep you safe, even if it cost him everything. 

Taking a deep breath, you opted for the next best solution to get the evidence you needed. Coming to terms with the fact that if Jungwon ever found out, he would blow a fuse. But the mission was to not be caught, anyway.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself as you stepped off the bus and walked the two blocks to the parking lot of the HYBE gym. Cap securely over the wig that you had purchased just a few days before; glasses pushed up over your eyes and mask pulled over your nose. You’d seen many girls wearing the same set of leggings and a tight fit jacket in their gym vlogs, taking inspiration, you had purchased them as well. 

The gym was in a weird limbo between busy and empty. At five on a Wednesday morning, only the true early birds and unfortunate employees were gracing the walls with their presence. And you, of course, as you deliberately chose to come in right as the doors opened, when the sleep deprived teenage employees would be too busy fighting to stay awake than pay attention to whoever was walking through the doors. 

You entered as the employee turned around in his chair and headed toward the women’s locker room. Thankfully, you traversed the labyrinth of gym machines without being stopped and walked into the locker room uninterrupted. The room was a ghost town, silent except for the rapid beating of your heart. This being the second time you’d done this, you opened the secret shower door with ease and shut it softly behind you. Your steps against the stairs were feather-light, ensuring that if anyone was in the basement, they wouldn’t be notified of your presence.

 The basement looked completely different than it did on Friday nights. The lights were off, albeit for a few that stayed lit no matter what per safety policies. You stopped on the end of the staircase, listening for any sounds of life, searching for any movement. Upon finding none, you moved lightly and quickly toward the stairs that run down the bleachers. Only two steps in and you realized that the bleachers squeak as you move. You ducked down, hiding in case someone were around, before slowly crawling to the edge of the bleachers. Grabbing a hold of the railing, you climbed down the support beams at the back and landed softly on the concrete ground below. Flushed between the wall and the bleachers, you slid through the small alleyway and made your way toward the reception desks. Glancing all the while, conscious of the danger with the hairs on your arm standing up and the erratic thumping in your ribcage. 

As you rounded the desk to sit before the computer screen, you realized that the brightness of the screen would attract too much attention — as well as any sounds. The need for the password was also prevalent in your mind. You made quick work of your black jacket, covering the monitor with it after you pressed the mute button on the keyboard. The screen was dulled by the jacket before you got the brightness to turn down completely. 

Remembering the password problem, you put to use the hours of hacking practice you’d picked up solely for this moment. It was one thing practicing on your own laptop when if all went wrong, you knew the password. Even though you’d hacked into your own computer at least seven times and had watched a plethora of different hacking tutorials on YouTube for hours beforehand. There was an itching thought in your head of: what if it didn’t work. 

The bright green letters against the black background did nothing to quell your anxiety but as the log in page was overridden and you were let into the HYBE USER’s desktop, you thanked the you of the past for burning her eyes out with hacking videos for days on end. If only you would let yourself do this to fix your grades over the past few weeks.

Your eyes scanned quickly over the desk top when you spotted a flash of light out of your peripheral. Light in a concentrated beam that could only be a flashlight. Faintly, you could hear footsteps from the flashlight’s owner — far enough to be distant, close enough to compromise you — and that flew you into faster action. You pulled the thumb drive from your pocket and quietly shoved it into the monitor's USB port. You clicked on an Excel sheet titled “POBs 2026” and saw a list of names and numbers. Downloading the file to the thumb drive, you glanced for any other documents that might have been worthy of your attention. Conscious of the ever-growing footsteps. 

“Huegh!” 

Your head whipped toward the sound. 

“Heugh, Heugh!” 

Your eyes took in the beam of light and sudden movements, as if the hand that held it was sending jabs. With a closer ear, you listen to the sounds of his footsteps amid the array of “heughs” he was heaving. The sound of his shoes on the ground was not indicative of hard concrete but something lighter. Something that only the boxing ring would have been able to produce.

Thankful for the extra time, you pulled the thumb drive out.

“Man what are you doing?” Another voice rang out in the basement. 

“Oh c’mon,” The heugh guy responded, “We got nothing to do and there's a boxing ring in the middle of the room.” 

You clicked the “log out” button on the computer and turned the monitor off as the men conversed. Carefully sliding out of the seat since the speaking had ceased, you were waiting and listening for any clue of what the men were to do next. Then the fan in computer began to whir. 

“What’s that?”

“It’s coming from over there.”

As swiftly as you could, you ducked under the desk and tucked your body as small as possible. You heard their footsteps approach amid the whirring of the fan and the steady beams of the flashlights. Your lungs begged for you to breathe and the back of your neck began to overheat. 

“Oh, y’know what?” One of the men let his arm fall to his side, “It’s probably just the computers.”

“Have they ever done that before?”

“Uh… yeah, I’m sure they have.” Said the one and you were sure that he had some Know It All complex.

“Alright then,” The sound of a hand hitting a person’s back emitted from behind the desk, “What do you say we have a little spar in the ring, huh?”

The other man made a sound of indecision, “Ah, sure, why not?”

You waited until they invaded the ring and the sounds of their fists knocking into the other’s palms filled the room before you evacuated. Out from under the desk, carefully stepping under the row of bleachers and heading for the opposite end of the locker room entrance. You took measured steps until you got close to the door and gathered all your bravery. 

Only twenty feet to your left was the ring, and eight feet in front of you was the door to the back hallways where you had argued with Jungwon after his match. You had the cover of darkness on your side and the attention drawn away from you — you just had to commit. You’d come so far already. But the heat at the back of your neck, sweat on your brow, and chill in your bones had you rethinking. 

What would happen if you got caught? Your need for adventure, need for a story, need for a mystery, is what got you in this situation in the first place. But now, you’re face to face with circumstances that you’re not fully certain of the consequences for. 

What if they caught you down here? What if they found the flash drive in the pocket of your black leggings? These aren’t mall cops, these are people who are hired by South Korean crime syndicates whether they know it or not. Would they drag you to their bosses? Would they take their anger out on you? Would they pull off your disguise and recognize your face and punish Jungwon for your trespassing and burglary? 

What would Jungwon say if he found out? Was this exactly what he was afraid of? That you’d do something stupid and reckless and get yourself killed? 

You shook your head. Barely registering the “coaching” that the one man was giving his other but fully aware that it sounded like the blind leading the blind. You took a deep, steady breath and then peeked toward the ring. With their attention diverted you moved quickly — not enough to be running — and quietly toward the door, pulling it open and entering a pitch black hallway. 

You attempted to create a map in your mind of what the hallway had looked like when you had walked through it last. The edges of your memory recalled the turns, just barely. Whether to take a right or a left, how many doors you’d pass before the next turn. Though all your mind could focus on was the after. When you reached the black doors at the end of the hallway and pulled them open. The doors to this basement kept an illegal fight club and an even more illegal betting operation from the eyes of the general public. Which means, the doors most likely have an alarm system. You have no clearance, no alibi, no voucher, just a full disguise and pair of sneakers you hoped would take you all the way to the bus stop a couple blocks off. 

With a deep breath and a starting pace, you push the back doors open and ran out at your fullest speed. The wind rushing through the air almost covered the sound of the alarm system you set off but there was nothing that would distract you. Nothing to make you turn back or slow you down. You sped past passersby on the sidewalk and watched the bus approach the stop. Boarding the bus, you swiped the bus-card you had just purchased that morning in cash and sat down next to an old man.

The doors to the bus shut, having welcomed only normal civilians, but you were too smart — or paranoid — to end the chase there. The syndicates had money and the city had CCTV everywhere. You needed to get lost in it. Which is why you pushed into the 6am train station in Seoul, and got off in Cheongju. Took a bus to a different entrance to the station at Cheongju and boarded during the 7:30am rush toward Daejeon. From Daejon you walked into a department store, paid and changed outfits, then walked to the train station again. From Daejon all the way to Daegu. Waiting and pretending to shop in a mall near the train station. Then you boarded toward Busan, changed outfits again in the back of a store in the streetmarket, before boarding the two-and-a-half hour train from Busan to Seoul during the work commute rush. 

You pushed your apartment door open as the time rounded to 9pm. Kicking off your shoes and shrugging off your new jacket. You pulled the thumb drive from your pocket — the only thing that you had kept since that morning, besides the straight black wig that you’d been wearing all day. Double checking that your door was locked and your windows were shut, you walked into your room where your laptop and phone had sat all day. Naively, you checked your phone for messages from Jungwon. Heart crushing when you scrolled through all your notifications to find nothing from Jungwon. Just the same message you’d received the day he walked out. 

wonie: I’m otw so make sure you have that green tea

You: can you just focus on not crashing your car please?

wonie: Lmao

A sorrowful smile rose onto your lips before tears sprung in your eyes. 

All you wanted was for him to be free from his never ending cycle of exploitation.

All he wanted was to keep you away from his mess in order to keep you safe.

It felt like neither of you were getting what you wanted. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

You shoved the thumb drive into your laptop out of necessity — a need to make all the work you did feel like it was worth it — rather than an actual desire to see what was on that excel sheet. You risked your safety more than you ever had for some document that you hoped would provide you with incriminating evidence but really, you had no idea. 

The file popped up on your desktop and with a double-click, the entire year’s receipts for the betting opened before your eyes. The columns held all the necessary information: the bettor’s name; the time they placed the bet, the odds of the fighters at the time the bet was placed, the name of the fighter they chose to bet on, their bet amount, their calculated pay out, their bank account number, and their contact information. All the information one would need to calculate and distribute the winnings of their bet.

You scrolled through the list — taking it all in — before your focus zeroed in. Hitting control F, you searched Park Hyun’s name and found 27 matching results. 27 bets placed under Jungwon’s coach’s name and not a single one was placed in favor of Jungwon’s victory. He had voted against Jungwon every single time. 

Despite the odds — wait, no, the odds were split. 

Your brows furrowed as you took in the percentages of the bets. Every bet he placed was when the odds evened out: 50-50, 49-51, 52-48, 51-48, 47-53, 55-45, 46-54. Every bet fell within even odds. From experience, you knew that Jungwon’s fights always started at 9pm. But all of these bets were made at various times. 9:13pm, 9:21pm, 9:09pm, 9:17pm, no consistency other than that the best were placed after the fights had started. 

You recalled what Heeseung had told you in the cafe. The more even the odds are, the more pay that you get. But the odds aren't always even when the fighting starts. The odds of Jungwon winning in his fight against Tyun were well in his favor: 57.02%. Yet, looking at the document now, the coach had placed his bet halfway through the fight, likely after a timeout was called after the chokehold. The odds had fallen from 57.02% to 49.89% and it was at this moment that the coach had placed the bet. When the odds had evened out in his favor. 

Though, it didn’t seem like he thought Tyun would pull that chokehold move because after he did, the odds had evened out and the sabotage hadn’t occurred yet. After Jungwon had drank the everclear, his odds had plummeted to 36% and the payout was a fraction of what it was when the odds were split. The coach must have realized how badly the odds would fall and placed his bet just before Jungwon had drank from his bottle. 

It was strange. It was almost unbelievable that a man who was supposed to support and help Jungwon had been the one orchestrating his downfall the entire time. Your cursor hovered over the exit button of the excel sheet, having seen enough and wanting to rest from the eventful day. But a name kept scratching in the back of your mind like nails on a chalkboard: Kim Taeho. The syndicate boss who should have been voting in favor of Jungwon the whole time. Had he been? Or was he just like the coach? 

Kim Taeho’s name appeared dozens more times than the coach’s. He had seven male fighters and five female fighters and all of which — you checked thoroughly — he had been voting in favor of. Even down to the last fight. 

Kim Taeho | 21:00 |  JAKAH 37.33% vs SOOBIN 63.66% | SOOBIN | $1000 | $148 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *********@gmail.com

At 21:00 sharp, every fight, he placed his bet in favor of Jungwon — regardless of the odds. You nodded your head as if you’d made up your mind. You would send Kim Taeho all the fights that the coach voted against Jungwon in. You’d note that there was foul play involved and that he should check the integrity of his staff. And maybe, if you were lucky, he’d fire the coach and Jungwon would have a fair chance at crawling out of his debt. And maybe, if you were extremely lucky, he’d find his way back to you after he was safe again. 

With the motivation electrifying through your veins, you began to highlight the cells of Park Hyun’s voting information:

Park Hyun | 21:01 | JAKAH 78.12% vs BAMKYU 22.98% | BAMKYU | $1000 | $2340 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:13 | JAKAH 53.01% vs JO 47.99% | JO | $1000 | $1780 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:27 | JAKAH 57.02% vs TYUN 43.98% | TYUN | $1000 | $1570 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

Park Hyun | 21:18 | JAKAH 48.00% vs SOOBIN 52.00% | SOOBIN | $100 | $148 | Midnight Bank 20180917 | *************@gmail.com

As you highlighted the last four rows, you recalled the events for each of these fights — except for the most recent one with a fighter named Soobin, which Jungwon had told you nothing about — and each of their respective sabotages. In the fight against a guy named Bamkyu, Jungwon’s water bottle had been filled with laxatives, which caused him to run from the fight even though the odds were fully in his favor. In his fight with Jo, he was given vinegar in place of the water, which caused him to fight more brutally in order to prevent over-dehydration. His fight against Tyun seemed to go off the rails. The everclear would have pushed the odds to even out, but the coach had not anticipated Tyun’s own intellect to even out the stakes all by himself. The everclear pushed the odds to fall too far into the margins of Tyun’s success which capped the amount of the payout. 

You brows furrowed as you cross referenced the starting odds with the odds of when the coach placed his bets. The day the laxatives were used, Jungwon had over 70% chance of winning. The day the vinegar was used, he had a 59% chance of winning. The fight against Tyun had him at a 63% chance of winning. And the most recent fight, which you knew nothing of other than that he came home relatively unscathed, had placed his odds at 37%. The split between the odds and severity of the sabotage was a pattern too loud to miss. 

The more the odds were in favor of Jungwon, the harsher the sabotage became. This realization left a bitter tongue and a deep ache in your heart. Involuntarily, you imagined Jungwon checking the scoreboard and noting his favor in odds. Had he found peace in that? Had he found comfort in the prospect of his probable victory? Or had it put him on edge? Had it brought his guard up at the expectation of a harsh attack coming from one of his blind spots? 

Just as you were about to save the document, your eyes caught on the number that falls at the very end of the columns: Midnight Bank 20180917. The coach’s bank account number. 

With shaky fingers, you scrolled up to the nearest row with Kim Taeho’s name, scanning past the information to reach the final column and reading it off in the silence of your held breath and still heart. Midnight Bank 20180917.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

The air in the room felt sticky. Too warm, too stuffy, as it clung to every millimeter of skin. The crowd was too talkative. Too joyous, too carefree, as they swirled their lavishly bartended drinks. The sight was too tense. Too terrifying, too uncanny, as he wrapped his fists in white bandages and bit down in the black mouthguard. 

Like a familiar friend, that anxious heat crawled its way onto the back of your neck — resting there. Your breath was entirely uneven despite the deep inhales and long exhales you’d been doing to train it back to consistency. Your leg bounced uncontrollably and you were certain one of the bettors would say something in just a moment, but their thoughts and their preferences were the least of your concerns. Not when Jungwon stood with his shoulders tensed, his jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed on his all-too-familiar foe.

Your phone buzzed and you drew your attention to it at lightning speed. An email was left with no subject line, just PDF and a caption: For your sake, I hope he wins. With shaky fingers, you tapped the screen and the PDF came into full view. A contract. 

A contract that put everything on the line.

Since the night that you had reviewed the Excel sheet, you’d taken risks that not only would have sent Jungwon into a coma but also could have gotten you killed. After a couple nights of rest and planning. You had opened your laptop once again, clicking open the Decelis University website and typing in Jungwon’s username and password instead of yours. Because of course, you knew his log in. 

You’d used it before to submit his assignments when he couldn’t or when he needed to check his grades. You’d never used it to check his financial statements.That was always private — too private — a boundary you couldn’t overstep. Somehow, that boundary seemed like nothing when it came in the way of securing a better future for him. 

You scrolled and opened the PDF of his statements. Monthly payments toward the total of Jungwon’s tuition, room and board, downpayments, parking passes, and a section called “allowance” which gets filtered straight to Jungwon’s bank account. The receipt of these payments noted the bank of the payer to be: Midnight Bank ****0917, corresponding with the bank account both Kim Taeho and Park Hyun were filtering their winnings to. The contact information for the payer was noted to be Kim Taeho himself. You scrolled to the end of the receipt to see the fine print which read: All payments are final. No refunds are allowed.

With these words, you set your plan into action. 

Immediately, you purchased a subscription to the strongest VPN on the market and created a burner email address. You bussed to the busiest public library in Seoul and drafted a very carefully worded email along with an attachment to the Excel sheet. The Excel sheet being highlighted with the necessary and incriminating information.

To whom it may concern,

Attached in the file below are the betting records of the 2026 year so far. As noted by the highlighting, Kim Taeho has been betting in favor of his fighter JAKAH and sending his winnings to a bank account number 20180917 at Midnight Bank. JAKAH’s coach and employee of Kim Taeho, Park Hyun, has been betting against JAKAH, his own fighter, and yet sending it to the same bank account: Midnight Bank 20180917. 

Upon further research, the bank account was found to be in Kim Taeho’s name. Is this not grounds for double betting? I’m certain that this kind of fraud would not be tolerated among the syndicates gathered that make events like these possible. Should they find out, would your syndicate not face immense repercussions for this fraud?

I have no interest in exposing you to the people you work with nor am I interested in extorting you for money. What I want, in exchange for the hard drive of this information and the access to this email account to prevent the scheduled emails to every contact on this Excel sheet from being sent, is the complete forgiveness of JAKAH (Yang Jungwon)’s debt. 

The emails are scheduled to be sent on Friday at 23:59. If I do not have confirmation that JAKAH (Yang Jungwon) has been forgiven of any debt that he has with you and is released from any obligation he has with you by 23:59, the emails will be sent. If I have confirmation before then that my requests have been fulfilled in good faith with evidence to prove it, then I will send an email with the log in, in order for you to manually close the emails yourself. I will also ship the hard drive to the front office of the HYBE gym. 

Thank you for your understanding.

You left no signature. Just the attachment of the spreadsheet and a quick glance at your VPN which changed your location every three seconds. South Korea one moment, Brazil the next, then onto Turkey, before heading to Milawe. You hit send on the email and walked out of the library toward the busiest tourist street in the city.

You weren’t expecting a response within the first 72 hours. Which kept you running the VPN all hours of the day. You had known they’d consider your threat a bluff, then they’d realize that you had everything you needed in order to out them. Then they’d devise a plan. You had known some sort of trickery was coming, you just hadn’t known what. 

As the days ticked by, a consistent anxiety welcomed itself into your heart. You hadn’t emailed back, dedicated to keeping communication as minimal as possible. When you woke up that Friday morning with no response, you prepared yourself to cut your losses. Once you send the emails and expose Belift, things might get more complicated for Jungwon, or everything would fizzle out. You’d assess the damage and move onto plan B. 

Until then, you kept hope in your heart. Even as you entered the gym with your new gym membership, under a different name and paid in cash, thanks to the new increased security. You slipped into the locker room and down the stairs just before the 21:00 match started. Emboldened by the leverage you had over Belift, you had taken a seat right in the front — looking straight ahead to the reason you had even started doing this in the first place. Yang Jungwon. 

It was in this ante period that you received the response email from Belift. And the PDF which sent a chill to the marrow of your bones. You knew the trick was coming. You just didn’t know that it’d threaten everything you’d worked for. 

The PDF was a photocopy of a contract that had recently been drawn and signed. A contract that stated:

As decided by the executives of Belift Lab, the debt of Yang Jungwon will be wholly and completely forgiven should he win his next upcoming fight. As per Yang Jungwon’s request, upon his victory, Belift Lab or any of its affiliates will never attempt to contact or engage with Yang Jungwon and his loved ones. 

Alternatively, in the case of Yang Jungwon’s defeat, he will carry on as a fighter of Belift Lab to eliminate his debt through his labor. Upon his defeat, Jungwon shall be legally required to pay off any accumulated debt to Belift Lab regardless of circumstances. 

Jungwon was now contractually bound to his freedom or his exploitation. If he won the fight, you would send Belift your evidence and Jungwon would be forgiven of his debt. If he lost, you would still have to send your evidence, but Jungwon would be legally obligated to pay off his debt. 

The loud buzzer swept over the makeshift arena. 

“Welcome back to another round in the men’s fifth bracket!” The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, “Listen Dino, I don’t know about you but I have been anticipating this fight all night.”

“Me too, S.Coups. I’m sure the audience is well aware but these two fighters have recently butt heads which ended in a brutal victory.” The crowd uproared, “Yes, that’s right folks. Welcome to the rematch between Jakah of Belift and BigHit’s Tyun.”

Suddenly, Jungwon’s abnormally tensed shoulders made sense. Your breath was stolen straight from your lungs and the entire room fell into white noise. Jungwon began to switch his weight between his feet — lightening his step — though it seemed that his legs were stiffer than they’d ever been before. The image of his face turning purple-ish red as he clawed as the arm preventing him from breathing was seared into your mind. And you were only a bystander. You couldn’t imagine the way Jungwon must have felt as his mind begged his body to forget what happened last time and to focus on not repeating history. 

“And Jakah takes the offensive!”

Jungwon lunged at Tyun, aiming a clean strike to the ribs. Tyun twisted out of the way but not fast enough for the speed that Jungwon was going. His first two knuckles clipped Tyun’s side, causing Jungwon to shift his feet closer and send another strike to the man’s face. Tyun’s bandaged hands blocked the strike and he jumped away from Jungwon.

“Man, it seems like Jakah has a bit of pent up rage… I haven’t seen him this aggressive in a fight for a while.” 

Your eyes chanced a glance toward Jungwon’s corner where the coach and managers stood waiting in bated breath. Jay and Heeseung stood there as well, Jay’s arms wrapped around the water bottle you’d gifted Jungwon, as if he was guarding it with his life. 

By the time you looked back over, Jungwon and Tyun had given up on dancing around each other and the latter was sending a barrage of feints with occasional strikes. Jungwon’s forearms were getting battered but he kept his guard up. He stayed like that for a while before he caught one of Tyun’s arms, pulled it, and twisted it behind the man’s back before shoving him face first onto the floor of the ring.

“Ohhh, ouch!”

“Man, that has got to hurt!”

The crowd echoed the announcers in various synonymous sentiments as the buzzer announced the end of the first round. Jungwon released his hold on his opponent and walked over to his corner, beckoning Jay for his water bottle and taking a test sip before chugging it. With your eyes tunneled onto him — the rapid rise and fall of his chest and the imprint of his hard abs on his white tank — you could barely hear the announcers informing the crowd of Jungwon’s increase in odds. 

Before you could fully register it, the match began again. Shifting feet and tiny grunts was all that filled the room as passed strikes between each other. Jungwon pursued Tyun to the edge of the ring, his opponent’s feet only a meter away from the rails before suddenly, he pushed himself back onto the rail, held the bars, and pushed his feet square into Jungwon’s abdomen. Jungwon stumbled back, nearly losing his balance, and failed to block the punch that landed straight onto his nose. 

“Oh, that’s definitely broken.”

“Speaking from experience, huh?”

Tyun grabbed Jungwon’s arm and threw him to his knees while he was still stunned. His hand grabbing one of his shoulders and sliding his arm across the plain of his neck. The everpresent heat on the back of your neck seemed to replicate Tyun’s actions, as if it knew this was what you had been most afraid of since the fight began.

Without warning or indication, Jungwon pulled Tyun’s left arm forward and reached back to grab ahold of the back of his right knee, standing up and bringing his opponent with him. With his feet off the ground, Tyun could do nothing to stop or brace himself as Jungwon jumped backward, sending them both to the floor, only with Tyun’s body as a cushion to break Jungwon’s fall.

“Jakah is on fire today!”

“He escaped out of that chokehold, picked Tyun up from behind, slammed him into the ground, and held him down for over five seconds, meaning: the second round is over!”

Your face had become sweaty like it was you that had been in that ring. But from the sight of Jungwon pushing his sweaty hair back and having it stay in a swept position, you assumed that he must be perspiring more than you could ever know. Of course, he would be. Everything was on the line for him. His freedom to leave the fighting and his freedom to pursue you. 

Without needing to be asked, Jungwon’s manager handed him a face cloth, which he took gratefully. He shoved his face into the fabric and rubbed the sticky sweat and grime off of his skin. Your heart dropped to the craters of the Earth when Jungwon ripped the cloth away from his face and began to cough. He tossed the cloth over the rails of the ring and shook his head, placing a hand over his chest and taking deep breaths. 

Before he was fully prepared, the buzzer signaled the start of the third round and Tyun sprung into action. He sent a jab that Jungwon barely dodged, causing him to stumble off to the side. Another jab, a feint, right, left, right, right, left, all blocked or dodged sloppily. Until Tyun dropped down low and sent a punch to his gut, leaving Jungwon in a fit of coughs. Another knee to his gut — his abdomen having already been targeted multiple times. Tyun’s strong hands pushed Jungwon backwards before sending three clean strikes. One to his left jaw, one under his chin, and another across his left jaw. 

Jungwon fell backwards, immediately scrambling to get back up before Tyun kicked his stomach, forcing the blond to curl up into a centipede. Whatever was on that cloth had thrown Jungwon into a state of distraction that he struggled to free himself from. And as he was on the ground, trying to ignore the pounding of Tyun foot as it slammed into his back, trying to ignore the blaring “five, four, three” of the announcers, trying to ignore the burn in his lungs, he peeled his eyes open to look at the crowd. His hopeless eyes met your worried ones. As if Fate had directed your gazes to align. As if Fate had given him a guiding hand in his most crucial moment. 

Memories of the last time he’d seen you crept up at the edges of his mind. Your tear-tracked face held in his hands. His lips brushing yours, careful to not press too hard that he might stay there with you in his arms forever. The sound of your voice as you pleaded him not to go in words cut open the chambers of his heart. 

All it took was one small victory and everything he’s ever wanted would rest at his feet. 

With renewed strength, Jungwon rolled over and out of the way of Tyun’s foot, just before the announcers made it to “one”. With the momentum and the opportunity of one of Tyun’s legs raised, Jungwon swept his feet out and knocked him to the floor. Without hesitation, Jungwon straddled the man’s waist, gripped his shirt, and swung punch after punch toward the man’s face. Every blow was blocked by expert hands. 

As Jungwon drew back for another punch, Tyun grabbed his hips and attempted to twist their positions, but Jungwon was quick to slide away from getting pinned to the floor. The two exchanged blows, knocked fists, and blocked strikes, all while shuffling around each other. Jungwon increased the speed of his feet, sent a feint directly into Tyun’s line of sight, before twisting around him and leaving his view completely. As the other man turned to keep his eyes on Jungwon, the blond sent a brutal kick to the other man’s gut. With Tyun’s hands lowering to protect his abdomen, Jungwon slammed his foot into his opponent's face and sent him stumbling back. Without mercy, Jungwon shuffled his left foot toward the right and twisted his body, sending a roundhouse kick that dug into the cheekbone of the other fighter. 

Tyun dropped to his knees, breath heavy and shallow, eyes closed and body tipping toward the floor. Jungwon shoved his foot in the other’s chest and held him down. The adrenaline drowned out the countdown from five.

“Five…” He couldn’t look at you.

“Four…” Not until he knew he had won.

“Three…” Until he knew you were safe.

“Two…” Until he knew he could—

“One!” 

The referee raised Jungwon’s arm up and blew his whistle, sending the crowd into a frenzy. Cheering, jeering, and booing. Standing, clapping, and fist pumping. And all he saw was you. With tears in your eyes and the biggest smile he thinks he’s ever seen you wear. 

And before he even knew it, he was hopping over the railing of the ring. Blood rushing and pounding in his ears as he ran toward you. You followed suit, hopping over the small guard rail and running just a few steps to where he had already gotten over to you. 

His left hand found your waist and his right found your cheek and he turned the both of you to the side so that he wouldn’t crash into you at full force. Well at least with his body, for his lips were all but graceful as they crashed onto yours, his hand at your waist immediately moving to your left cheek to angle your face to fit his perfectly. He kissed hungrily and greedily like he couldn’t get enough. He didn’t stop to breathe, he just moved his lips against yours as if it was the only thing he needed to stay alive. 

As soon as you brought your hands to his hard chest, he slid his hands down to hold your waist, pulling your body flush against his and never removing his lips from your own. How could he when you kissed him back with a mirroring fervor and slid your hands up to card through his hair.

Jungwon had fought for every South Korean Won he had made in the ring. Millions of won had been added to his name. But there — with you in his arms, clinging to him, and exchanging dozens of heated kisses like you were making up for lost time — that was the richest Jungwon had ever been. 

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊⊱·✶·⊰₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

“And when someone asks for a caramel macchiato, what they’re really asking for is a caramel latte.”

His dark brows furrowed under his recently dyed brown hair, “Why wouldn’t they just ask for a caramel latte then?” 

“Well, because they’re going off of the menu from Starbucks.”

His dark brown eyes held thinly veiled confusion before he nodded and leaned his hip against the counter, crossing his toned arms as the black work shirt stretched over his muscles. You glanced over to him, a different — more bashful — heat crawling up your neck as he stared at you.

“Don’t worry,” You told him, “You’ll get the hang of it soon.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure?”

“Why were there?” He narrowed his eyes, “At the fight.”

Your throat worked around a swallow, “Oh, uh I was just…” 

A million reasons flashed through your mind — none of them even bordering on the truth — and it brought all of your thoughts to a halt. This entire situation: you finding out about Jungwon’s secret life, it all started from a lie. Now that you had Jungwon, you couldn’t lose him again. So you took a deep breath and began the long explanation.

“You told me that in order to keep me safe, you had to leave my life completely. And to be honest? I’d rather fear for my life everyday than say goodbye to you forever.” You eyes poured into his steady, deep, brown ones, “I talked to Heeseung, found out who was sabotaging you, broke into the Hybe gym basement to get proof—”

“I’m sorry, you what?!”

“And then, I found out that Kim Taeho was double betting and tampering with the odds by sabotaging you, in order to get an even split and make the most amount of money possible while winning every time.”

“How the he—”

“And then I essentially blackmailed him into forgiving your debt,”

He straightened, “Tell me you’re joking…”

“But don’t worry I stayed anonymous and used a VPN.”

“That doesn’t make it any better.”

“And then drew up a contract that would forgive your debt as long as you won the fight — which you did — and here we are!”

Jungwon grabbed your upper shoulders, “Y/N… Please tell me this is a joke.”

You could see the worry laced into every feature: his creased brows, his wide eyes, his downturned lips.

“Jungwon, you always talk about keeping me safe. I wanted to find a way to make sure you were safe.” You hesitated to keep going, “Even when you signed the contract, you were thinking about me. That if you won the fight and were forgiven, you requested that they stayed away from you.”

“I wouldn’t sign the contract unless that was added.” He confessed, “What good would getting rid of my debt be if they took something — someone — else from me in its place.” His hands slid to the hem of your sleeves, playing with the fabric. “And it’s the best decision I ever made because now, I’m finding out that you blackmailed a crime syndicate that most definitely has a grudge against both you and I.”

You tried not to look too horrified by the logistics of your impulsive decisions. 

“And if I didn’t make them sign a contract to stay away from you,” His eyes dropped down, unable to look you in the eye, “Who would’ve gotten me an actual job to start chipping away at my tuition?”

“With or without me, you would have found a way to pay for college and keep on living a good life.” You rolled your eyes.

“‘With or without you’?” He repeated incredulously, “Without you I would still be spending Friday nights drinking laxatives, vinegar, and everclear or shoving my face into a chloroform face towel and getting my ass handed to me. Without you I’d have spent my entire life saving pennies to pay off an impossible debt.” His cat-like eyes took upon every frame of seriousness, “My life doesn’t exist without you, Y/N.”

A shy smile rose onto your lips. Because you may know Yang Jungwon inside and out as your best friend. But Yang Jungwon, your boyfriend, was still uncharted territory. Regardless of if this was the 50th time he’d pulled you in by your waist and pressed gentle, loving kisses against your lips. 

“Jungwon,” You pressed against his chest, “This was the one condition my manager had!” You argued through the sweet pecks he placed in between words, “No PDA!”

He giggled before placing another kiss onto your forehead, “Fine, but once we’re off the clock, I’m never letting you go.”

His hands fell from you and the warmth he left behind lingered like a promise. 

“I might need you to sign a contract for that.”

“What for?” He asked, picking up a dish to rinse off, “You’ll just blackmail me anyway.”

© jjongbat 2026 — all works are without ai and belong solely to jjongbat unless otherwise specified. please do not steal, repost, or re-upload without credit.

🛋️ :: @heesroses @kristynaaah @idonthatefruits @vixialuvs @kjunebuggie @yuuuhee @meowwwon @en-muse @jungwonisme @savageislandanchor @kookieterry @ikeulove @nyawon @kewpiereads @yangw0ni3 @mariwon @yangbreads

[heebunnii]

on the edge 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯

pairing :: yang jungwon x reader warnings :: nerd!won, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst, fluff, happy ending, uni/college au, bff!enha, she fell first he fell harder, crying, kiss, food mentions, alc mentions, light drug usage, awkwardness, they’re both overly overdramatic😒 a/n :: it was so much harder to write him like this after being dadawon brainrotted so i’m thinking nerd!won smut hcs otw🤓 ALSO i know there’s much longer fics out there and many more writers who can write this much with ease but this is my first Monster Demon Baby™️ so #talk2menice word count :: 25.8k (ꃋᴖꃋ)

summary :: you’d never really been friends with jungwon. run in the same circles, sure! seeing him twice a week at your little game nights before realising you guys take the same course, also sure! but never friends. that is until, a missed lecture changes that for the better ><

university had settled into something comfortably predictable. the frantic first weeks of introductions and orientation events had faded months ago, replaced instead by routines that seemed to repeat themselves without anyone really noticing. monday mornings always began with students rushing across campus twenty minutes later than they’d intended. the library was impossibly full by lunchtime despite everyone insisting they worked better in their own rooms. by friday afternoon, every coffee shop had queues stretching through the doors, fuelled by exhausted students convincing themselves they deserved an overpriced coffee after surviving another week.

somewhere between all of that, you’d found your place. looking back, it was strange how quickly everything had happened. you’d arrived expecting months of awkwardness, eating lunch alone, second-guessing whether anyone would remember your name after conversations, wondering if uni friendships really were as effortless as people had made them seem.

instead, they’d simply… happened.

sunoo had been the first. he’d sat beside you before your introductory lecture had even begun, complaining dramatically about the size of the campus before asking if you’d figured out where the nearest coffee shop was yet. neither of you had. by the end of the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost three hours wandering around hopelessly lost before accidentally stumbling across the student union together.

after that came jay, who somehow possessed the remarkable ability to complain about absolutely everything while still being the most dependable person you knew. then jake, whose boyish eagerness felt almost impossible to rival, and sunghoon, who’d seemed intimidating right up until you’d realised ninety percent of his sarcasm disappeared whenever someone offered him food.

before long, dinners became shared instead of solitary. library sessions somehow turned into six people studying different degrees around the same table simply because nobody wanted to work alone. birthdays, movie nights, grocery trips, midnight walks to convenience stores after collective assignment breakdowns… somehow, they’d all become normal.

it wasn’t that your newfound group spent every waking moment together. everyone’s timetables were different. there were weeks where assignments swallowed whole days, where some people disappeared beneath deadlines while others barely had a lecture scheduled. but somehow everyone always found their way back together eventually, as though it had become an unspoken expectation rather than something anyone actively organised.

you liked that. how there wasn’t any pressure, only familiarity. outside of your own friends, uni had a funny way of making people feel familiar too.

your course was large enough that you couldn’t possibly know everyone, yet small enough that faces started repeating themselves. people you’d exchanged exactly one conversation with would smile as they passed you on campus. classmates whose names you’d never learnt would wave from the opposite side of lecture theatres. baristas recognised your coffee order before you’d even reached the till.

jay insisted it was because everyone knew you, you insisted he was exaggerating. the truth probably sat somewhere in the middle. you’d always found it easier to smile first than wait for someone else to. if someone looked nervous before a presentation, you’d wish them luck. if someone sat beside you in a lecture, you’d introduce yourself before either of you had time to overthink the silence. conversations came naturally enough that you rarely realised you’d always be the one to start them until they’d ended.

people remembered kindness more than confidence, something you’d learnt a long time ago. which, to give jay some credit, was probably why you recognised so many faces despite knowing so few names.

one of those faces belonged to someone you’d never actually spoken to, you couldn’t even remember the first time you’d noticed him. he’d simply always seemed to exist somewhere on the edge of your life.

sometimes you’d catch sight of him crossing the courtyard with headphones resting loosely around his neck, one hand buried in the pocket of an oversized hoodie while the other balanced an impossible stack of books against his chest. other times he’d already be sitting near the front before lectures began, quietly reading through notes while everyone else chatted around him.

he left classes quickly. professors barely finished dismissing everyone before he was gone, disappearing into hallways crowded with students until he became impossible to pick out from everyone else.

you didn’t know much about him, only fragments gathered accidentally over the course of a year. he was ridiculously smart. heeseung lived with him and you’d hear his complaints, albeit fond ones, about how when jungwon had an exam or assignment coming up, however small, he wouldn’t leave his room until he was impossibly sure of himself, which never happened. 

riki also complained (in much less detail) that he spent too much time studying.

sunoo had once described him as “one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet once he forgets to be nervous.”

that last one had surprised you. from a distance, he always looked composed, quiet, sure. but never nervous. if anything, he’d struck you as someone perfectly content staying in his own company. the kind of person who preferred observing conversations rather than joining them. you weren’t sure you’d ever heard him raise his voice. or laugh loudly. or even stay somewhere longer than he absolutely had to.

still, he was difficult not to notice. perhaps because everyone around him seemed louder by comparison. heeseung laughed with his whole body. riki rarely stood still for longer than thirty seconds. jay somehow managed to turn ordering lunch into a competition. sunghoon teased sunoo relentlessly and jake always seemed to be stuck in the middle, trying his hardest to swat sunghoon’s persistent hands away from sunoo as he tried not laugh himself, for sunoo’s sake. jungwon simply… existed quietly amongst all of it, as though he occupied a completely different pace to everyone else.

you never gave it much thought, he was simply another familiar stranger. someone whose face had become a comfortable part of your life without ever crossing fully into it.

despite sharing more mutual friends than either of you probably realised, you and jungwon had somehow managed to spend the better part of a year existing almost entirely on the edges of each other’s lives. it became one of those things you only noticed after it had already been happening for months. the two of you would be invited to the same birthday dinner, only for one of you to arrive after the other had already settled into conversation. someone would suggest a movie night at heeseung and riki’s flat, and while everyone else gradually drifted into the living room, you’d somehow end up helping jay order food while jungwon disappeared into the kitchen to make more drinks. group photos would be taken at the end of the night, proving you had, in fact, spent several hours in the same room, despite barely exchanging more than a passing glance.

it almost became funny, but not in a way anyone ever pointed out. just one of those strange little coincidences that seemed to happen naturally whenever enough people were involved. if there was a seat beside jungwon when you arrived, someone would inevitably call your name from the opposite end of the table before you had a chance to sit down. if you wandered over to ask heeseung something, jungwon would suddenly realise his cup was empty and excuse himself to refill his water. if everyone split into smaller conversations, the two of you somehow always ended up in different ones. not deliberately. just… somehow.

the closest thing you’d had to a conversation happened sometime during the first semester. you’d arrived at heeseung and riki’s flat with two bags of snacks balanced awkwardly against your hip after volunteering to stop by the corner shop on the way over.

the front door was already unlocked. you’d let yourself inside, calling out a quick hello that was immediately drowned out by riki shouting something unintelligible from the living room. before you could make sense of it, someone appeared around the corner.

jungwon. he’d looked just as surprised to see you as you’d been to see him. for a second, the two of you had simply stared at each other.

“…hey.” you grinned. he noticed the hopeful sparkle in your eyes before he noticed the way the left side of your face tilted up slightly more than the right when you gave him one of the blinding smiles you seemed to dish out so abundantly to his friends. he thought it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“…hi.” he muttered back sheepishly, dropping his gaze to the floor on instinct. 

then he’d stepped aside to let you through with a small, polite smile before disappearing down the hallway again. that had been it. looking back, you weren’t even sure if it counted as a conversation. it obviously hadn’t felt like one.

after that, much to your dismay, the pattern simply continued. you knew who he was, everyone did. if someone mentioned jungwon, nobody ever had to ask, “which one?” he’d built something of a quiet reputation around campus without ever seeming to try.

people on your course didn’t know much about him beyond the obvious. they knew he studied computer science, that he consistently did well in every module he took and that professors seemed to like him. every now and then, his name would come up when someone was complaining about an assignment.

“jungwon finished it last week.”

“apparently he got full marks.”

“does he ever sleep?”

the answer, according to heeseung, was apparently “not during exam season.”

you’d lost count of the number of times he’d shown up somewhere and casually mentioned that jungwon hadn’t left his room all day.

“he’s revising.”

“again?”

“he says he isn’t ready.”

“his test’s tomorrow.”

“exactly.”

heeseung always said it with the same mixture of affection and disbelief, like someone talking about a younger brother who worried far more than he needed to.

riki, on the other hand, had much less patience for it.

“he acts like every quiz decides his entire future.”

“it kind of does,” heeseung had replied once.

“no, it doesn’t.” riki muttered out, rolling his eyes as far back into his head as he could.

“to him it does.” heeseung smiled, swatting riki on the shoulder as he teased him for his dramatics.

the conversation had moved on quickly after that. most conversations did. people laughed, someone changed the subject and eventually everyone started talking over one another again.  still, little comments like that stayed with you, simply because they slowly filled in the gaps around someone you barely knew. the version of jungwon everyone described never quite matched the one you saw. they talked about someone who panicked over assignments, second-guessed himself constantly and somehow managed to convince himself he’d fail exams everyone else expected him to ace. the jungwon you’d always seen seemed unnaturally calm. he walked across campus at an unhurried pace, never looking particularly rushed even when everyone around him was sprinting to lectures. he’d sit quietly before classes with a notebook open, reading through something while conversations buzzed around him. when people spoke to him, he always looked up immediately, giving them his full attention before answering. reserved, maybe. quiet, definitely. but never anxious.

you wondered, briefly, if he simply hid it well. or maybe people behaved differently around those they were comfortable with. the thought didn’t linger for long. everyone was different around their friends, you probably were too.

one friday evening, the two groups ended up at heeseung and riki’s flat after jay had declared that nobody should be spending the end of the week working. the plan had been to order takeaway, watch a film and, in jay’s words, “pretend deadlines don’t exist until monday.”

predictably, the film never really happened. jake and heeseung couldn’t agree on what to watch. then sunghoon decided he was hungry before a decision had been made, so much so that he refused to talk about anything else. by the time food finally arrived, everyone had split off into different conversations scattered around the flat. you found yourself squeezed onto one end of the sofa beside an exasperated sunoo while jake and sunghoon argued over whether pineapple belonged on pizza. jay had wandered into the kitchen to find more drinks, heeseung followed after him. riki disappeared for reasons nobody questioned. at some point, you realised jungwon wasn’t in the room either. you only noticed because he returned a few minutes later carrying a stack of clean plates balanced carefully in both hands. without interrupting anyone, he set them down on the coffee table one by one before disappearing back into the kitchen.

he came back again with cutlery. then napkins. someone thanked him absentmindedly. he nodded once.

“no worries.”

and sat down as though he’d done nothing at all. it was such a small thing that nobody else seemed to pay it any attention. conversation carried on without missing a beat. sunghoon was still insisting pineapple absolutely belonged on pizza.

jay, now involved, disagreed so passionately that you’d begun to suspect it was personal. across the room, jungwon listened with the same quiet smile he’d worn all evening, occasionally laughing under his breath whenever riki deliberately tried to make the argument worse. he looked just comfortable enough to let everyone else fill the room while he quietly existed alongside them. for someone who supposedly struggled around people, there was something unexpectedly reassuring about the way he never seemed to force himself to keep up.

somewhere between arriving and leaving, you realised you’d learnt something new about jungwon. that he wasn’t quiet because he had nothing to contribute, he was quiet instead because he never seemed to feel the need to compete with everyone else for the conversation.

and, for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself thinking that was admirable.

the problem with missing lectures wasn’t usually the lecture itself. it was everything that came afterwards.

lecturers had an unfortunate habit of squeezing the most important information into the last ten minutes of class; the reminders about coursework, changes to seminar groups, little comments that never made it onto the slides but somehow always ended up appearing in exams.

normally, you really wouldn’t have worried. one of your friends would send their notes eventually. except this lecture unfortunately happened to be shared with almost none of your friends. by the time you’d made it back onto campus, your phone was already buzzing with messages.

jay Where are you?

sunoo u alive??

jake thought you’d overslept 😭

you smiled to yourself, typing out a quick explanation as you walked across the courtyard.

doctor’s appointment. i’m alive, unfortunately.

three dots appeared almost immediately.

jay Truly devastating news

you rolled your eyes. he still texted like your dad.

the lecture theatre ahead was already emptying by the time you reached it. students spilled into the corridor carrying half-zipped backpacks and takeaway coffees, conversations blending into one another until it became impossible to tell where one ended and another began. a few familiar faces smiled as they passed. someone from your seminar waved. you returned it automatically before stepping to one side to avoid a group hurrying towards the stairs. too late. you’d known it before you’d even arrived. still, disappointment settled somewhere in your gut anyway.

“you look like someone just told you christmas is cancelled.”

you turned to find sunoo weaving his way through the crowd, balancing a coffee in one hand and his laptop under the other arm.

“i missed it.” you pout, poking him in the arm. he followed your gaze towards the lecture theatre.

“…ah.” he realised, mirroring your pout almost mockingly. you’d take it as an insult if his eyes didn’t have that affectionate sparkle in them, seeming to be naturally ever present around you anyways.

“i even left home early.”

“that’s rough.” he said, more gently now. you only sighed in return.

“did i miss much?”

sunoo considered it.

“…honestly?”

your shoulders lifted hopefully.

“…i wasn’t really paying attention after the break.”

you stared at him blankly, eyebrows just starting to furrow.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i’m honest.” he giggled, winking at you.

“you’re hopeless.”

“a little.” he didn’t sound remotely apologetic.

the two of you drifted further into the corridor to avoid blocking the doorway as more students filtered past. somewhere nearby, someone dropped a folder, sending loose sheets skidding across the floor. three people immediately crouched to help gather them, the interruption lasting all of thirty seconds before everyone continued on with their day. nothing never really stopped moving. sunoo took another sip of his coffee before speaking again.

“you need the notes?”

“unless you’d like to sit my exam for me.” you deadpanned.

“…hard pass.”

“thought so.”

he made a thoughtful noise.

“mine aren’t great.”

“i know.”

“wow.”

“last time i borrowed your notes you wrote ‘i’m hungry’ halfway through a paragraph.”

“because i was.”

“you’d also drawn a cat.”

“…it was a cute cat.”

you laughed. there was a brief pause. then, as though the answer had only just occurred to him, sunoo clicked his fingers.

“ask jungwon.” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

the suggestion came so casually that it took you a second to process it.

“…jungwon?”

“yeah.”

“why?”

“because he actually listens. and because his notes are terrifying.”

“terrifying?” you replied, eyes wide.

“you’ll see.”

you frowned slightly. asking someone for notes wasn’t unusual. you’d obviously done it before, many times in fact. people asked you all the time too.

still…

“i’ve never actually spoken to him.”

sunoo looked back at you, genuine confusion etched onto his face.

“yes, you have.” he said, suddenly so sure of himself.

“have i?”

“you’ve said hi.”

“…i don’t think that counts.”

“close enough.”

you weren’t convinced, he seemed to notice.

“seriously,” he said. “he won’t care.”

“how do you know?”

“because if someone asked him for notes, he’d probably apologise that they weren’t neat enough.” you couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“…you’re exaggerating.”

“i wish i was.”

before you could answer, his phone buzzed. he glanced down, groaned dramatically and shoved the coffee into your free hand while he typed out a reply with both thumbs.

“seminar?”

“unfortunately.”

he took the coffee back.

“come on.”

“what?”

“he’s probably still inside.”

your eyes drifted towards the lecture theatre doors.

they’d almost emptied now.

through the small window, you could just make out a few remaining students gathering their things.

“…i’ll feel weird interrupting him.”

“you won’t. okay, you might.” sunoo admitted, eyes narrowed as he mused. you gave him a flat look in return.

“helpful.”

“but he’ll still say yes.”

the lecture theatre was almost empty by the time you finally walked inside, a little while after sunoo had walked off to his seminar. you’d stood outside the door for a little longer than you probably needed to, fingers resting against the handle while you tried to convince yourself that this was not a big deal. because it wasn’t. it really wasn’t. you weren’t asking him for anything unreasonable. you weren’t about to have some life-changing conversation or confess some huge secret. you weren’t even asking for help with something complicated. you just needed notes, that was it. you still couldn’t for the life of you figure out why it felt like so much to ask, but that was obviously the reason for your unusually timid lingering outside the door.

you’d seen jungwon’s notes before. not properly, but enough to know that they were probably going to save you from spending three hours trying to piece together half-remembered information from the slides. the problem was not the notes. obviously. 

the problem was that you had never actually spoken to jungwon before. something which always seemed to be nagging at you when you were around him. clearly, you knew which people he was friends with, because you were their friends too. you knew little things you had picked up without meaning to, the same way everyone did when they spent months around the same people. but knowing about someone and knowing someone were completely different things. and for some reason, the thought of walking up to him made you hesitate.

if anything, he was the opposite of unapproachable. he was always easy to be around, yet strangely hard to interpret. there was something about approaching someone who always seemed comfortable in their own space that made you feel like you were stepping into something you hadn’t been invited into.

which was silly. you knew that. you were really not someone who usually overthought things like this. especially not so much so that you were loitering outside like an idiot, rocking on the balls of your heels with too much running through your head. you rolled your eyes at yourself, and how all of this was so unlike you. instead, taking a small breath, you pushed the door open. the sound was louder than you expected in the quiet room. it felt completely different after everyone had left. earlier, it had been filled with voices and movement, people packing away their things while talking about assignments and plans for later. now, it was almost peaceful. the rows of seats stretched out in front of you, sunlight falling across the desks near the windows. a few forgotten papers were scattered around, abandoned by students who had already moved on to their next class.

and there he was. you spotted him almost immediately. you weren’t surprised. if anything, you would have been more surprised if he wasn’t there. he was still sitting near the front, his attention focused on his laptop while he finished whatever he was doing. for a second, you just stood there. you almost laughed at yourself. because why had you made this into such a big thing? he was just a person, a friend at that. a friend who you needed notes from. a friend who would probably definitely say yes.

still, your feet felt slightly heavier as you walked closer. you stopped beside his desk. he didn’t notice immediately. and you were glad he didn’t, because it gave you one last second to collect yourself. then you spoke.

“hey.”

his head lifted. the reaction was small, but you caught it. the slight surprise, the way his attention shifted fully towards you. for a moment, he looked like he was trying to place why you were standing there. then, recognition settled it, not dramatically, just a quiet moment where you felt like you could hear his every thought as you glanced sheepishly at his eyes behind his thick rimmed glasses. something about that made you feel strangely less nervous. because, obviously, he knew who you were. and he wasn’t looking at you like an inconvenient interruption.

“hi.” he said, sounding his voice muffled as he cleared his throat behind his hand. his voice sounded softer than you expected. you smiled slightly.

“sorry, i hope i’m not bothering you.”

he shook his head almost immediately. the response came so quickly that you wondered if he was worried you had mistaken his surprise for annoyance.

you relaxed a little.

“okay. good.” you muttered out, unusually shy.

there was a small pause after that, not really awkward, just unfamiliar. you were two people who had existed around each other for months without ever having a reason to talk. and now suddenly, you did. you explained that you had missed the lecture and needed the notes. you found yourself adding the reason why, even though he hadn’t asked. you mentioned the appointment running late. maybe because you didn’t want him thinking you had skipped class. maybe because there was something oddly important about really wanting (needing) for him to have a good first impression of you, even though technically this was far from his first impression.

the whole thing was ridiculous. you didn’t even know why you cared. jungwon just nodded. as always, there was no judgement in his expression. no teasing. no comment about catching up. a tiny part of you almost wished there was. maybe then you’d be able to open him up a little bit. you told him sunoo had said his notes were really good. and almost immediately, jungwon tried to downplay it, which, to be honest, you’d expected somehow. there was something very predictable about the way he refused to make a big deal out of himself.

you looked at the notebook beside him and pointed out sheepishly that his notes actually had structure. you admitted yours usually consisted of random words that only made sense for the first ten minutes after typing them. this earned a small reaction from him, not quite a smile, but close, and for whatever reason, that felt like a really big victory. jungwon just turned back to his notebook and started gathering the pages. you watched quietly, noticing how there was no rush in the way he moved. he seemed to take care with everything, making sure he had everything he needed before handing it over. as always, it was strangely comforting.

when he looked back at you, he hesitated.

“i can send them.” he said, looking up at you again.

“really?” you smiled.

he nodded and you watched as he glanced between you and his notebook like he had reached the obvious next step but hadn’t figured out how to get there. for a moment you just looked at him with confusion until you realised, he didn’t know how to send them. because neither of you had actually exchanged any way to contact each other. you grinned again before he had the chance to overthink it.

“i can give you my number.” you offered hopefully, his eyes lifting to meet yours again.

“okay.” he mumbled, finally returning your smile, a lopsided grin taking over his features. you thought there was something oddly sweet about how willing he was to help even whilst being unsure of what to do next. you unlocked your phone and handed it to him.

“just put yours in.”

he typed his number in, saved the contact, and handed it back. you looked down.

jungwon

“that’s it?” you said without thinking, he merely blinked up at you in return.

“what?”

“your contact.”

he looked down at the phone.

then back at you.

“yeah?”

you laughed softly.

“i don’t know. i expected maybe something else.”

“like what?”

you glanced at the screen.

“an emoji or something.”

the silence that followed was so genuine that you had to stop yourself from laughing. you don’t even know why you’d said it, you wouldn’t have even done it yourself.

“i don’t really use emojis.”

you smiled brighter and then immediately noticed the tiny hesitation in his expression. you manually tried to soften your own face in hope that he wouldn’t take it as making fun of him.

“i’m not judging.”

“i know.” he mumbled quietly.

almost like he was reassuring himself as much as he was reassuring you. you added that you never used emojis either, which was absolutely not true. you know your friends would have laughed out loud if they’d heard you say it. but something about the small look of relief on his face made your white lie worth it. there was another quiet moment.

“thank you, by the way.” you said, trying to fill the silence as quick as you could. again, he nodded.

“it’s okay.”

you picked up your phone, looking down at his contact one more time before putting it away. now jungwon wasn’t just someone you sat near in lectures or someone you merely shared mutual friends with. now he was someone you had spoken to, someone who had your number. someone who would probably text you later.

“see you later, jungwon.” you motioned to wave before stopping yourself and putting your hand back down again.

“see you.” he replied, another lopsided grin taking shape after he caught your stifled gesture.

and that was it. you walked out of the lecture theatre with his contact saved in your phone, the unexplainable stress finally lifted.

you didn’t expect jungwon to send the notes so quickly. not because you thought he would forget. if anything, forgetting seemed like the least likely thing he could do. from everything you’d heard about him, jungwon was probably the type of person who made reminders for his reminders. you had already accepted that the notes would arrive eventually, probably later that evening after he had checked through them one more time and decided whether they were good enough to send. what surprised you was the fact that your phone buzzed before you’d even reached the other side of campus. you felt oddly good about seeing jungwon’s name. there was a difference between seeing his name appear in a group conversation and seeing it sitting privately in your own messages. it was such a stupid and small thing that you almost laughed at yourself for noticing.

jungwon hi i've sent the notes over

underneath were the files. you clicked on the first one while continuing to walk, expecting exactly what sunoo had described. you were prepared for them to be neat. you were prepared for them to be organised. you were not prepared for them to make you question whether you had been approaching uni notes incorrectly this entire time. the document was almost painfully structured. everything had a place. every topic had been separated clearly, important points marked out without making the page look overwhelming. there were small explanations beside certain concepts, things he had probably written down for himself because he knew he would want to remember them later, but obviously, they were equally as helpful for you too.

you stared at the screen for a few seconds. you barely knew him, but you could already imagine the process. him sitting somewhere quiet after the lecture, going through the notes again, deciding what was important and what wasn’t. because that was simply how his brain worked. you typed back before you could overthink it.

these are actually ridiculous

you paused. you didn’t want to sound like you were insulting him, especially not after he so graciously did you this favour.

quickly, you added:

in a good way 😭

the response did not come immediately. you found yourself looking at the little typing bubble appear, disappear, then appear again. it made you smile slightly. you’d never considered yourself someone who intimidated easily. you were usually the person who filled awkward silences, who introduced yourself first, who made conversations easier for other people (so you’d been told). but jungwon had a way of making you acutely aware of every small interaction. maybe because he seemed so careful in comparison.

eventually, his reply appeared.

jungwon thank you i think they’re okay

you giggled under your breath.

jungwon there are diagrams my notes look like i was writing during an earthquake

this time, his reply came a little quicker.

maybe your handwriting is just fast

you stared at the message. it wasn’t exactly a joke. not one you’d typically laugh at anyways. but there was something about the fact that he had tried to lighten the mood. 

that is the nicest way anyone has ever called my notes terrible

jungwon i didn’t call them terrible

you could practically hear the seriousness behind the message.

you didn’t have to

after that, your conversations stayed small. you preferred it that way. you didn’t suddenly become attached to your phone waiting for him to reply, and jungwon didn’t become someone who messaged constantly. that would have felt unlike both of you. instead, he became someone who existed slightly more in your day. a message about a lecture, a question about an assignment, a quick clarification when you didn’t understand something from the notes he had sent. you noticed quickly that jungwon was much easier to talk to through messages than you had expected. however, he was occasionally so formal that you wondered if he had accidentally written an email instead. but you’d like to muse there was warmth underneath it. maybe that was wishful thinking.

he always answered properly. if you asked something, he didn’t just send a vague response and disappear. he explained and he made sure you understood. and, perhaps more surprisingly, he started asking things back. small things; how your assignment was going, whether you had managed to catch up on the lecture, whether your exam preparation was going better. obviously simple questions, but they mattered to you because they meant progress. and because jungwon was not someone who asked things just to keep a conversation alive… when he asked something, he genuinely wanted to know the answer. you found that oddly refreshing. you were used to people knowing you. that was the strange thing about being naturally social. people often assumed familiarity. they knew your name. they knew your friends. they knew what you were studying. they knew the stories you told at parties or the jokes you made in group chats. but there was a difference between being known and being noticed.

jungwon noticed.

the next time you saw him outside of lectures, it was at one of your usual gatherings. not big enough to call a party, but usually, nobody was sober enough for it to be just an average hangout. by now, heeseung and riki’s place had become almost a second home for your progressively more tight-knit friend group. nobody really planned anything properly anymore. someone would mention they were bored, someone else would suggest going over, and within an hour half you’d all somehow end up there. it was comfortable in a way you hadn’t expected relatively new friendships to become.

you arrived with sunoo and jay, already listening to them argue about something completely unnecessary. the moment you walked in, the usual noise surrounded you. music playing quietly from heeseung’s speaker, riki complaining about losing a game he insisted he wasn’t taking seriously, jake laughing unabashedly from somewhere in the kitchen, heeseung attempting to stop everyone from making a mess while very clearly contributing to it.

it took you a moment to realise jungwon was already there. he was sitting at the edge of the sofa, listening while jake explained something animatedly beside him. before, you probably wouldn’t have approached him. you would have smiled. maybe waved. eventually, someone else would have pulled you into another conversation. but now it felt different. you obviously weren’t best mates. but friends enough that when your eyes met across the room, you wouldn’t hesitate to smile. and this time, he smiled first. it was a tiny thing. so tiny that you wondered if you imagined it. but you didn’t. something about that made you feel strangely content, you noted the way your cheeks flushed an embarrassing pink, feeling the heat spread up your neck as you took in his lopsided smile again.

later, after everyone had settled down, you found yourself sitting near him while the others argued over what film to watch. you weren’t sitting beside him intentionally. at least, that was what you told yourself. there simply happened to be space there. and he happened to be there. the conversation moved around you naturally, everyone speaking over one another the way they always did. jungwon wasn’t the loudest person in the room, but you had started noticing that he never seemed left out.

people included him without thinking. heeseung would always ask for his opinion on whatever niche topic they were discussing like their lives depended on it, jake would show him stupid memes on his phone that rarely prompted a reaction from anyone, riki would jab and poke at him until jungwon’s face broke out in one of his endearingly wonky grins. at some point, your conversation shifted towards classes. you mentioned the lecture you’d missed to sunoo and jay, mostly as a joke about how much work you had to catch up on.

jungwon glanced over.

“did the notes help?” he said, perking up as he did so.

“they did,” you said, smiling. “actually, they helped more than the lecture probably would have.”

he immediately shook his head.

“no, they wouldn’t.” he replied, brows furrowed.

“jungwon.”

“what?”

“you literally explained half of it better than the slides and the prof did.”

he looked like he wanted to argue, but didn’t have a response ready. that happened sometimes. you were beginning to notice it. jungwon was always prepared when it came to academics, but when it came to compliments, he never knew what to do with them. again, you found yourself thinking it was so endearing. obviously not enough that you would ever admit it, not right now anyways. you mentioned one part of the topic that you still didn’t fully understand, not expecting anything from it, you were really just babbling on at this point, to anyone that’s listen, although sunoo and jay had moved on and were having their own conversation now.

but jungwon listened.

and after a moment, he just started explaining. in the middle of heeseung’s living room. not with overly complicated definitions or phrases that made you feel like you were supposed to already understand. he broke it down slowly, making sure you followed each step, like he could see the cogs moving in your head and the moments things clicked for you.

“‘was easier to understand than the actual lecture.” you stared at him blankly after he’d basically summed up the entire second half of the module.

“was it?” he asked, confusion plastered onto his face yet again.

you nodded in reply, realising that you were probably making uncomfortable with the sheer amazement in your eyes. he looked down, a pink flush slowly creeping up his neck.

“i just explained it differently.” he shrugged, pushing his glasses up his nose as he lifted his gaze to meet yours again.

before you could respond, sunoo, who you now realised had clearly been listening despite pretending not to, looked over.

“you know, you could literally just tutor her.” the suggestion was casual, almost thrown away. 

you just looked at jungwon. he looked back at you. and immediately, you saw the thought cross his face, like the idea had never occurred to him.

“i don’t know if i’d call it tutoring,” he said eventually, a deeper flush now making its way up to his cheeks.

“well, what would you call it?” sunoo (almost) snapped, raising an eyebrow.

jungwon opened his mouth. then stopped, because he didn’t actually have an answer. you giggled softly, and this time he didn’t seem as embarrassed. he just looked away, a small smile spreading across his features despite himself. the conversation moved on soon after. jay changed the topic, riki started another quietly fond argument with sunghoon. the moment just passed, much to your forcibly subdued dismay. 

the idea of jungwon tutoring you was never supposed to become an actual plan. at least, that was what you’d told yourself after his brief hesitation. it had been nothing more than something sunoo had thrown into the conversation because he found amusement in pointing out things before anyone else noticed them. for as long as you’d known him (albeit it’d only been a year), he had a habit of doing that, noticing the typically imperceptible shifts between people and making them obvious before anyone involved was ready to acknowledge them. you’d learnt that about him quickly. sunoo always knew when dynamics had changed before either person realised it themselves. so, when he suggested jungwon tutoring you, you had laughed, because it felt too soon to call it anything like that. you and jungwon had exchanged a handful of conversations. you had his number. he had yours. he had sent you notes. you had made unfunny jokes about his lack of emojis. that was hardly enough to suddenly turn him into your personal academic support system.

except, as the weeks went on, you started noticing how often you ended up relying on him. there was a question you couldn’t figure out, so you checked the notes he had sent you. there was a topic you didn’t understand, so you found yourself wondering how jungwon would explain it. that strangest part was that you weren’t someone who usually needed help. not because you felt so uncomfortable that you were were incapable of asking, but because you were normally the person other people asked. it was a role you’d always fallen into without noticing, until now, that is. you were organised enough to remember deadlines, social enough to know who to ask if you needed something and patient enough that people felt comfortable coming to you. your friends joked that you somehow became everyone’s emergency contact despite barely being able to keep track of your own schedule.

you liked being helpful. you liked feeling useful. but there was something unexpectedly comforting about having someone who was willing to do the same for you. jungwon never made you feel like you were behind. he never responded to questions with the kind of surprise that made you feel embarrassed for asking. he simply answered, without fail, every time. and maybe that was why you started asking more. jungwon noticed too. just probably not in the same way you did. you were aware of the changes because they happened around you. you noticed that you no longer hesitated before saying hello when you passed him on campus. you noticed that seeing his name appear on your phone no longer felt surprising, but instead comfortable. for jungwon, it was less obvious because he wasn’t used to analysing his friendships in that way. he had always been someone who let things happen naturally. he had friends. good friends. people he trusted. but most of those friendships had formed slowly, through repeated exposure and familiarity. he wasn’t usually the person who approached first. not because he didn’t want to, but because he had never been particularly good at knowing when he was truly welcome.

with you, he never had to wonder, that was the part that caught him off guard. you made things really easy for him. you spoke to him with your soft, unguarded voice like there was no reason not to. you included him in conversations without making a performance of it, which obviously made it feel more genuine. you looked up at him with your big sparkling eyes through long lashes and nodded attentively when he was talking you through something, so he wouldn't have to guess if you were listening or not. jungwon was used to people noticing him for specific reasons; his grades, his ability to solve problems, the fact that he was reliable. he wasn’t used to someone being interested in what he had to say even when the topic had nothing to do with your syllabus. and you did that often. you asked him small things. what he really thought of the film you’d all watched at heeseung’s place. whether he thought the fancy coffee shop near campus was actually worth the price. whether he agreed with jay’s very strong opinions about literally everything.

none of the questions were particularly important, but jungwon always found himself thinking about them afterwards. he wondered if he’d still be thinking about the things you asked him if they’d come out of anyone else’s mouth. which was becoming increasingly inconvenient for him. because he had assignments. and exams. and a schedule that already felt too full. yet somehow, he always found time to reply to you.

the first time the tutoring idea became a genuine possibility was after another lecture. not because you had planned to ask, in fact, you'd actually been trying very hard not to bring it up. there was something slightly embarrassing about admitting you were struggling with a topic that everyone else seemed to understand. logically, you knew that was ridiculous. uni was difficult and everyone struggled sometimes. but there was still a part of you that hated feeling like you were falling behind. you had spent the better part of an evening trying to understand a section of your module notes, moving between your own work and the lecture slides until the information started blurring together. eventually, out of frustration more than anything else, you sent jungwon a message. you stared at the text blankly for a while before sending it.

hi Lol sorry this is random but do you understand this part?

you attached a screenshot.

almost immediately, you regretted the wording because you realised you’d apologised before even asking. something you did more often than you liked to admit. also, something jungwon had bought up with you before. telling you gently that he felt it was unnecessary to apologise for shivering next to him on heeseung’s sofa while you were sat right next to an open window.

you put your phone down and tried to focus on something else. it lasted approximately three minutes. then your phone buzzed.

i can explain if you want

you smiled before you could stop yourself at the way he’d always phrased his messages. he left space for you to decide. you replied that you would appreciate it, expecting another explanation over text.

instead, a few minutes later:

are you on campus tomorrow?

you stared at the message. your first thought was that you had somehow misunderstood.

yeah, why?

the reply came a little bit slower this time.

i can teach you properly

you looked at the screen for a moment. it was such a jungwon thing to suggest. practical and straightforward, completely unaware of how much trust was involved in what he was offering. because for jungwon, explaining something to someone wasn’t a big deal. it was simply something he could do, and did, regularly in fact. for you, though, there was something different about it. this wasn’t borrowing notes or a quick explanation during a group hangout. it was choosing to spend time together. just the two of you. you found yourself smiling slightly at the thought, then immediately questioned why. which was annoying. because there was nothing strange about spending time with a friend. and jungwon was becoming a friend! you thought that you really needed to stop treating every small interaction like it meant more than it did.

the next day, you met him outside the library. or, more accurately, you met him in the library because jungwon had apparently arrived early enough to secure a table before the usual afternoon rush. you weren’t surprised. when you approached, he was already there, laptop open, notebook beside him, two drinks sitting on the table. you slowed slightly when you noticed the second one.

“i didn’t know what you liked,” he explained before you could ask, gesturing towards it. “so i just got water.”

you looked at the bottle, then at him.

“jungwon.”

he paused.

“what?”

“you’re genuinely the most prepared person i’ve ever met.” you smiled.

for a second, he looked unsure whether that was a compliment. you had started noticing that happened often.

“i didn’t know if you’d have something to drink.”

“most people would just assume.”

“i didn’t want to assume.”

the answer was so simple that it caught you slightly off guard. jungwon always considered things other people overlooked. not because he was trying to impress anyone but because that was simply how he moved through the world. you sat down across from him, opening your laptop. and for the first time, you saw what everyone else probably saw when they studied with him. which wasn’t the intimidatingly smart person people talked about, not the student everyone went to when they were stuck. just someone patient, someone who genuinely wanted you to understand. which, somehow, made it much easier to admit when you didn’t.

the two of you didn’t study for very long before you ended up talking about other things, nothing particularly meaningful. just little conversations that happened naturally between his long, thought out explanations. you found out jungwon hated overly sweet drinks. you found out he had a habit of tapping his pen against his textbook when he was thinking. you found out he actually had a much drier sense of humour than you expected. and, perhaps most surprisingly, he found out you weren’t as effortlessly confident as he’d assumed. you admitted, almost accidentally, that you hated asking questions in lectures because you worried they would be obvious.

jungwon looked genuinely surprised.

“you?”

“what does that mean?” you muttered out through a frown.

“you talk to everyone.”

you laughed quietly.

“that doesn’t mean i can’t get nervous.”

he looked down at his notes. you mused that he probably understood that better than most people. because maybe that was the thing neither of you realised yet. everyone else saw the obvious parts of you; they saw someone friendly, someone confident, someone who belonged everywhere. everyone else saw the obvious parts of him; someone deeply intelligent, someone capable, someone who always knew what he was doing. but none of those things had ever fully summed either of you up. and maybe that was why the two of you got along. because you were both much more complicated than the versions people had decided on.

by the time you packed your things away, the library had started to empty. you hadn’t finished everything. technically, you had probably spent too much time talking. at the end of the day, you’d still understood bounds more than you had when you arrived. you looked at your notes, then at jungwon, a shy smile playing at your lips.

“i think sunoo was right.”

“about what?” he looked up and met your eyes.

“the tutoring thing.”

his expression immediately shifted, not really dramatically, but just enough for you to notice.

“oh.”

you giggled.

“don’t look so terrified.” you replied, pouting slightly involuntarily.

“i don’t.”

“you do.”

he just looked away. which, unfortunately for him, proved your point. you smiled as you packed your laptop away.

“i’m joking.”

but the idea didn’t disappear. and neither did the small smile that appeared on his face when he thought you weren’t looking.

the following tuesday arrived with the kind of weather that never seemed to make up its mind. the morning had started bright enough for people to leave their accommodation without coats, only for grey clouds to roll across the sky before lunchtime, threatening rain without ever fully committing to it. by the time your last lecture finished, the air had turned cooler, carrying the familiar scent of damp pavement that always seemed to settle over campus before autumn properly arrived.

you stood outside the building for a moment, adjusting the strap of your bag as students spilled around you. your phone buzzed.

hi i’m already at the library second floor i found us a table

you couldn’t help smiling. there was something strangely unsurprising about the message because of course he was already there. of course he had arrived early enough to secure one of the quieter tables before the afternoon rush started. of course he had somehow managed to phrase a simple text so politely that it almost sounded like an apology for disturbing you.

you typed back as you crossed the courtyard.

i’ll be there in five :D

you hesitated for a second before pressing send. the smiley face stayed. it wasn’t until your phone disappeared back into your pocket that you remembered your conversation about emojis. you laughed quietly to yourself. he was either going to think nothing of it… or spend the next ten minutes wondering whether there had been a hidden meaning behind one tiny :D

for some reason, the thought made you smile all over again.

the library was busier than usual. students filled almost every table on the ground floor, conversations kept deliberately hushed beneath the steady hum of printers and keyboards, while the occasional sigh or rustle of paper floated between shelves lined with textbooks that looked far too expensive for anyone to actually buy. you climbed the stairs two at a time before slowing your pace. there he was. he had chosen a table tucked beside one of the tall windows overlooking the centre of campus, far enough away from the busiest part of the floor that it felt almost secluded. his laptop was already open. two notebooks sat neatly beside one another. highlighters arranged in a straight line. a mechanical pencil resting precisely across the top page.

he looked up almost immediately. for a second, neither of you spoke. then his expression softened into a small smile.

“hi.” you whispered, hoping he wouldn’t notice the pink you could feel spreading across your cheeks for no apparent reason.

“hi.” he whispered back, his lopsided grin deepening, his dimple now visible.

you slipped into the chair opposite him, dropping your bag onto the floor with considerably less grace than he’d arranged the table.

“sorry if i’m late.”

jungwon glanced towards the clock hanging above the staircase.

“…you’re three minutes early.”

you blinked.

“…oh.”

“just had to find something to apologise for, didn’t you?” the corner of his mouth lifted slightly again as he whispered. you just looked at him for a second before laughing under your breath while pulling your laptop from your bag, bringing it up to your face because now you really had to hide your red cheeks from him. it wasn’t much, barely even a joke. but you were beginning to realise something about jungwon. he was funny! not loudly and definitely not in the way jake was, where half the room inevitably ended up laughing with him. jungwon’s humour appeared quietly, tucked between otherwise serious conversations, almost hidden beneath the way he spoke. if you weren’t paying attention, you’d probably miss it entirely. which somehow made it even better. 

“thank you for doing this.” you said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence while settling your things across the table. 

“for what?” he looked genuinely puzzled, eyebrows furrowed and face devoid of that grin you’d come to really like.

“helping me.”

“you asked.”

“exactly.”

“i don’t mind.” he said with so much conviction that it caught you off guard, like he was urging you to believe him. there wasn’t any awkward insistence that it was nothing, no dismissive shrug. just a straightforward answer, as though helping you had never been something he needed convincing to do.

it made something in your chest feel unexpectedly warm. you had always been the friend who offered. who stayed behind after seminars if someone needed something explained again. who reminded everyone about deadlines because you knew at least one person would forget. you liked taking care of people. it wasn’t something you thought about very often until someone quietly returned the favour. 

jungwon opened one of his notebooks.

“which part?”

you pulled your own notes closer.

“this.”

you pointed towards a page that had become increasingly covered in question marks over the past few days.

“i understand the beginning.”

your finger moved lower.

“and then somewhere around here i completely lose whatever’s happening.”

he leaned forward slightly, just close enough to see the page properly. without thinking, you did the same. your shoulders almost brushed. you didn’t notice until you caught the faint scent of clean laundry and something woodsy. not cologne. nothing strong. just oddly fresh. you blinked quickly, forcing your attention back towards the notebook. jungwon, meanwhile, had already started reading. he didn’t seem to notice the distance between you at all, and you couldn’t help feeling like a little kid about the fact that you were so aware of it, and liked it in fact. perhaps he had simply decided it wasn’t worth acknowledging.

“okay,” he murmured after a moment. “i think they’re explaining it backwards.”

you looked up.

“backwards?” you asked, confusion painting your features like it rarely did. jungwon thought your scrunched eyes and tilted head was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“kind of.” he replied after clearing his throat. he reached for his pencil before hesitating.

“can i?”

you looked down, he was gesturing towards your notebook.

“oh.” you nodded quickly.

“yeah, of course.” 

only then did he start writing. his handwriting was somehow just as neat as you’d expected. he drew a small diagram, crossed something out, rewrote it differently. then turned the notebook back towards you.

“try thinking about it like this instead.”

there was no rush in the way he explained things. he never made you feel as though you were slowing him down. if you interrupted to ask another question, he answered it without sighing or trying to move on too quickly. if you looked unconvinced, he simply found another way of explaining the same concept.

after about twenty minutes, something finally clicked. you stared at the page.

“…oh.”

jungwon looked up.

“does that make more sense?” he asked, hint of a knowing smile spreading across his face.

“a lot more.”

you looked between the diagram and him.

“why couldn’t the prof just say that?” he looked almost embarrassed by the compliment.

“they probably did.”

“they definitely didn’t.”

“maybe they explained it differently.”

“jungwon.”

he met your eyes.

“you’re being modest again.” you whispered, poking him playfully in the shoulder. colour crept faintly into his ears.

“i’m not.”

“you are.”

he looked away first. you smiled to yourself, you were starting to recognise his little pattern. whenever anyone complimented him, jungwon reacted as though they had accidentally handed him something that belonged to someone else. time passed easier than either of you expected. somewhere between diagrams, explanations and comparing lecture slides, the awkwardness that had hovered around your first few conversations dissolved into something quieter. more comfortable. you found yourself talking without thinking about it. sometimes about the work, oftentimes not. you learnt that jungwon almost always studied in the same spot because he liked the light from the window. he admitted, after a surprising amount of persuasion, that he couldn’t concentrate if people chewed too loudly. you confessed that you sometimes highlighted entire pages of content because you could never decide what was actually important.

“that defeats the point of highlighting.”

“i know.”

“then why do you do it?”

“panic.”

he looked down at your notebook.

“…fair enough.”

again, that tiny smile. small enough that someone across the room probably wouldn’t even notice it. you did, every time. and each time it appeared, it seemed to linger a fraction longer than the last. it happened gradually enough that neither of you noticed the hours slipping past. outside, the sky had darkened. students came and went around you, chairs scraping quietly across the floor as people packed their things and left. you only realised how long you’d been there when your stomach growled. loudly. the sound seemed to echo across the table, jungwon’s head snapping up at the sudden noise. your entire body froze. you covered your face with one hand.

“please pretend that didn’t happen.” heat rushed to your cheeks almost instantly.

“i left straight after my lecture this morning.” you laughed awkwardly.

“i completely forgot to eat.”

jungwon didn’t laugh. he didn’t tease you. he simply looked at you for a second before quietly reaching down beside his chair. you frowned. he unzipped his backpack, rummaged around for a moment, then placed something gently on the table between you. a packet of chocolate almond pepero. you stared at it blankly, then up at him.

“…what?”

“you should eat.”

you blinked.

“jungwon…”

“before you try and study anything else… your stomach sounds unhappy.” he mumbled out after being interrupted mid sentence by another grumble from your tummy. despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help the tiny giggle that escaped.

“thank you.”

you picked the packet up slowly, still looking at it.

“…hang on.”

he looked up from his notebook.

“how did you know these were my favourite?”

for the first time all afternoon, jungwon hesitated.

“i…”

he looked as though he genuinely hadn’t expected the question.

“jay and sunghoon used to buy them for you.” he replied sheepishly, hand scratching at the back of his neck.

“yeah, but that was only once or twice.”

“it was eight times. that i was around to see it at least.” 

you stared.

“…you counted?”

“not intentionally.” he said, his eyebrows knitting together slightly.

“jungwon.”

“they were always the same… so i remembered.”

your heart did something strange. you weren’t even sure why. it wasn’t the snack. it wasn’t even the fact that he’d brought one. it was that he’d noticed! months ago, during noisy evenings where everyone had been talking over one another, he’d quietly remembered something so insignificant that even you would’ve forgotten mentioning it. you looked back down at the packet in your hands.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“…really thoughtful.”

he seemed almost confused.

“it’s just a snack.”

“yeah i know, ‘m just saying thanks anyways.” you spluttered out quickly and now, shyly, hoping he wouldn’t notice your immediate backtracking after his dismissal. you looked back up at him. for a second, neither of you spoke. jungwon rubbed absentmindedly at the back of his neck again, suddenly looking far more interested in his notebook than he had been a moment earlier.

“…i wasn’t sure if they were still your favourite.”

your smile softened again before you could stop it. it seemed like he was giving you an out from your previous embarrassment. you didn’t feel as much like you’d made an unnecessarily big deal out of it.

“they are.”

he just nodded once in reply.

“…okay.”

for some reason, that answer seemed to make him happy. and as you opened the packet, handing the first stick across the table towards him without really thinking about it, you couldn’t shake the growing feeling that somewhere along the way, tutoring had quietly become one of your favourite parts of the week.

by the time the packet of pepero was empty, the stack of notes between you had doubled. it hadn’t happened all at once. one explanation had turned into another, then into comparing lecture slides, then into jungwon suddenly deciding that one of the examples in your textbook was unnecessarily complicated and rewriting it from scratch in the margins of your notebook. you watched him for a moment while he worked. his brows drew together whenever he concentrated, creating the faintest crease between them that disappeared almost immediately whenever he looked back up. every so often, he would stop writing altogether, not because he had forgotten what he wanted to say, but because he was deciding how to say it. that was something you were beginning to admire about him. jungwon never explained things to prove that he understood them. he explained them so that you would.

it was a small difference, but one you hadn’t appreciated until now.

you had met plenty of people who enjoyed being the smartest person in the room. people who answered questions in ways that somehow made everyone else feel a little smaller for asking in the first place. jungwon was the opposite. if anything, he seemed happiest when the person sitting across from him finally understood. the little smile that appeared whenever something clicked for you was never smug, it was relieved. you caught yourself watching him again. this time, it wasn’t because he was explaining anything. he had reached up absentmindedly to push his glasses higher on his nose, only for them to slip straight back down again a few minutes later. he sighed so quietly you almost missed it before repeating the same movement without even thinking. you smiled to yourself before realising you probably looked like a bit of a perv, hastily bringing your hand up to your face to hide your smile as casually as you could.

“what?”

his voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

you blinked.

“huh?”

“you smiled.”

“…did i?”

he nodded once.

“…why?”

heat crept into your face before you had a chance to stop it. he tilted his head ever so slightly. the expression wasn’t suspicious, just curious. you debated telling him. it wasn’t that embarrassing. not really. still…

“your glasses keep falling.”

his hand immediately lifted towards his face.

“…oh.”

“you’ve pushed them up about six times in the last ten minutes.”

“…have i?”

“i’ve been counting.”

for the first time since you’d met him, you watched jungwon look genuinely flustered. it wasn't dramatic, he didn’t splutter or hide his face. instead, his eyes widened just enough for you to notice before he looked away with a quiet, “i didn’t realise.”

you laughed softly.

“it’s kind of cute.”

the words left your mouth before your brain had caught up. silence settled between you. your smile disappeared.

oops! to be really honest, it was something you’d say to most people with ease. it wasn’t even typically an odd thing to point out, you remembered only yesterday telling jake how adorable he looked when he let his hair grow out a little longer. but something about the way jungwon looked up at you, like you’d just done something jail time worthy, almost made you wince. again, you felt like a kid, a really stupid one at that. you looked down at your notebook so quickly you almost gave yourself whiplash.

“i meant…”

why were you trying to explain it?

“they’re just…” you gestured vaguely towards his face without looking directly at him. “very… you.”

that somehow sounded worse.

“forget i said anything.”

you squeezed your eyes shut for the briefest second after seeing a lack of the lopsided grin you’d become accustomed to on his face. across the table, jungwon had gone completely still. he didn’t look offended. if anything, he looked as though his brain had momentarily stopped working.

cute. you had called him cute. he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that information. compliments had always made him uncomfortable. they tended to sit awkwardly somewhere in the middle of gratitude and disbelief, leaving him unsure which emotion he was supposed to choose. this one felt… different. because you hadn’t said it to be polite. if anything, you’d oddly seemed horrified that you’d let it slip, in a way so unlike what he’d seen of you these past few months. his ears felt warm. he was fairly certain they were turning pink. he hoped they weren’t.

“…thank you,” he managed eventually, the words quieter than he’d intended.

you looked back up, relief written plainly across your face. something in jungwon relaxed. the smallest laugh escaped him before he could stop it at the sheer speed in which the alleviation of your panic ensued. later, as the conversation drifted away from coursework and towards anything else that came to mind, the atmosphere around the table changed almost without either of you realising. the books remained open. pens still rested between pages. yet neither of you seemed particularly concerned with the fact that you hadn’t looked at the lecture slides in nearly twenty minutes. instead, you learnt that jungwon always listened to the same playlist whenever he studied because changing songs distracted him. he learnt that you couldn’t revise in complete silence because your thoughts became louder than whatever you were trying to memorise. you admitted that you had once colour-coded an entire set of flashcards only to lose them the day before a test. he admitted, after a surprising amount of hesitation, that he alphabetised the folders on his laptop.

“you’re joking.” you said, probably too loudly considering the fact you were in a library.

“…no.”

“every single one?”

he nodded.

“…it makes finding things easier.”

you stared at him for a moment before laughing under your breath.

“that’s…”

you searched for the right word.

“the most jungwon thing i’ve ever heard.”

“that’s probably true.”

“you agree?”

“…yeah.”

the consistent honesty of all of his answers no longer caught you so off guard. most people would’ve defended themselves, or laughed it off. jungwon simply accepted it. there was something strangely attractive about that. not because alphabetising folders was attractive.

obviously. but because he never seemed interested in pretending to be someone else. he wasn’t trying to seem cooler than he was, or louder, or more confident. he simply existed exactly as he was. and somehow, that made you want to know him even more. jungwon, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to stare. he wasn’t succeeding particularly well. he was trying so hard to make his constant glances look unintentional but his eyes simply kept drifting back without permission. you smiled all the time. he had noticed that weeks ago. not the kind of smile people put on automatically when they greeted someone. your smiles were different. sometimes they were quick and amused. like when jake would show you some stupid meme on his phone that only ten year olds would typically find funny, you usually ended up laughing at jake himself for his endearingly regressed humour. sometimes they spread slowly across your face before you even realised you were doing it. like when you and riki came to the conclusion that jay was in fact wrong about whatever he’d been arguing about with sunghoon with so much conviction. 

sometimes, when you laughed properly, your nose scrunched ever so slightly. he had never consciously paid attention to something like that before. now he couldn’t seem to stop noticing. every time you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear while reading. every time you frowned at a sentence before chewing lightly on the inside of your cheek. every time you looked up after finally understanding something he’d explained. he kept remembering them.

which was again, extremely unhelpful. he was supposed to be helping you study. he felt like he’d just been gawking down at you the whole time. eventually, the announcement echoed gently through the library.

“the building will be closing in fifteen minutes…”

you both looked up instinctively, then towards the windows. outside, the sky had turned almost completely dark. 

“…what time is it?” you frowned, surprise colouring your features.

“…eight forty-five.” he said, whispering long forgotten as he checked his phone.

your eyes widened.

“jungwon! we got here at one.”

“…yeah.”

you both looked down at the notebooks covering the table. then back at each other. somewhere between studying and talking, almost eight hours had disappeared.

“i didn’t even notice.”

jungwon nodded slightly.

“…me neither.”

the admission just lingered between you. it probably should have felt awkward. eight hours was a long time to spend with someone you’d only recently become friends with. instead… it felt strangely easy, comfortable, even. like the afternoon had passed exactly as it was supposed to. you packed your things away together, neither of you rushing despite the librarian beginning to switch off lights further down the floor. as you zipped your bag closed, your hand brushed against jungwon’s where both of you reached for the same pen lying between your notebooks. it barely lasted a second. just enough for your fingers to touch before both of you instinctively pulled back.

“sorry.”

you spoke at exactly the same time. then stopped. then looked at each other. a little giggle escaped you first. jungwon’s followed a second later. it was quieter, warmer. and somehow, hearing it felt like accomplishing something. walking out of the library together, you realised something that should probably have worried you a little more than it did. for the first time since uni had started you weren’t looking forward to the next tutoring session because you wanted better grades. you were looking forward to it because you wanted another afternoon exactly like this one. with jungwon. and, a step behind you, jungwon found himself thinking that perhaps he’d start arriving fifteen minutes early next week instead of ten. not because the library got busy. that was simply the excuse he gave himself, the truth was much harder to admit. he liked waiting when he knew you were the person he was waiting for.

a month passed quietly. not in the dramatic way some movies liked to pretend time moved, where seasons changed overnight and entire lives somehow transformed between one scene and the next. nothing about the last few weeks had felt particularly significant while you were living through them. lectures came and went. assignments accumulated faster than any real human being could finish them. the weather grew colder, the mornings darker, and somewhere along the way, the trees lining the paths across campus began shedding leaves that collected in damp piles beneath benches no one wanted to sit on anymore.

life carried on. the only difference was that, at some point, jungwon had become woven into it. you couldn’t have pinpointed exactly when. there hadn’t been a conversation where the two of you had agreed to keep meeting every week. nobody had suggested making tutoring a regular thing. it had simply… happened. 

the first time, you’d arranged to meet because of one particularly confusing lecture. the second time, because there was another topic you wanted him to explain before a quiz. by the third week, neither of you really needed an excuse anymore. thursday afternoons had quietly become yours. sometimes you studied in the library, tucked away in the same corner beside the windows where jungwon always managed to find a table before anyone else. sometimes you ended up in the little coffee shop across from the engineering building after discovering every seat in the library had already been taken. once, when it had started raining halfway through the afternoon, the two of you had spent almost an hour sitting on the floor outside an empty seminar room because neither of you wanted to carry all your textbooks somewhere else.

it didn’t seem to matter where you were. eventually, one of you would arrive first. the other would appear a few minutes later. and somehow, without ever talking about it, the afternoon would disappear. your friends noticed before you did, not in an obvious way. little comments slipped into conversations so naturally that you rarely thought much of them.

“aren’t you with jungwon today?” sunoo had asked one thursday when you’d turned down lunch because you wanted to finish a reading beforehand.

you’d blinked.

“…yeah.”

“thought so.”

that had been the end of it. another time, heeseung had wandered into the kitchen while jungwon was packing his bag.

“library?”

jungwon hadn’t even looked up.

“…yeah.”

“she’s already there?”

“…probably.”

heeseung had smiled to himself but wisely chose not to say anything else. it wasn’t strange. at least, it didn’t feel strange. friends spent time together, friends studied together. if anything, it made sense that you and jungwon had become close. you were taking similar modules, he explained things well, and somewhere beneath all of his quietness, he’d turned out to really make you laugh. you liked being around him. that was all. or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

by now, your study sessions had developed their own unspoken routine. jungwon still arrived first. you still apologised for being late, even when you weren’t, he poked fun at you for this and made you promise you’d stop (knowing full well you never would). he still insisted on explaining concepts from the beginning instead of assuming you understood the foundations. you still interrupted him halfway through with questions that somehow sent the conversation in completely different directions. he no longer looked surprised when you reached across the table to steal whichever pen he happened to be using. instead, he simply sighed with exaggerated patience before sliding another one towards himself.

“you’re unbelievable,” he’d muttered the week before.

“thank you.” you grinned out through a mouthful of apple.

“that wasn’t a compliment.” 

“it sounded like one.”

“…maybe a little.” he muttered out, mask of feigned disbelief broken by his lopsided smile.

you’d giggled so hard that people had actually looked over from neighbouring tables. jungwon looked faintly horrified, which only made you laugh harder. somewhere along the way, he’d stopped apologising every time the silence settled between you. you’d stopped feeling responsible for filling it. there were afternoons where the two of you barely spoke for twenty minutes at a time, completely absorbed in your own work before one of you quietly asked a question. the silence never felt uncomfortable. if anything, it was becoming one of your favourite parts. there was something strangely peaceful about existing beside someone who didn’t expect constant conversation.

“you’re staring.”

your head snapped up.

jungwon looked at you over the top of his laptop.

“…what?”

“you’ve been looking at the same page for five minutes.”

heat crept into your cheeks. had you? you glanced back down at your notes. the paragraph you’d supposedly been reading hadn’t changed. because, apparently, you’d spent the last five minutes watching the way sunlight caught against the rim of jungwon’s glasses instead. the way his dimple emerged slightly when he scrunched up one side of his face in concentration.

brilliant.

“i was thinking.”

“…about operating systems?”

“…yes.” you muttered out after a pause.

his eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. you tried to keep a straight face. he tried to keep a straight face. neither of you managed it.

“you’re terrible at lying,” he said quietly, poking you playfully in the arm.

you pointed your pen towards him.

“that’s rich coming from the person who once tried convincing me he didn’t alphabetise his desktop.”

“…i don’t.” jungwon replied, still trying to make you believe what you knew was false.

“jungwon.”

“…it’s organised by colour now.” he replied, eyebrows raised.

you giggled again so suddenly that you had to press your lips together to keep the sound from carrying across the library. he smiled fondly, hoping you wouldn’t notice the affection that he felt was radiating off of every bone in his body. obviously not because he’d made a joke, but because you’d laughed.

it wasn’t until saturday evening that everything unravelled. everyone had ended up at heeseung’s flat again, the same way they always seemed to. sunghoon had suggested ordering takeaway (again). jay had complained about the prices before ordering it regardless. jake and riki were arguing over a game neither of them seemed particularly good at, sunoo had somehow convinced heeseung to help him bake cookies despite the fact that neither of them appeared to know what they were doing, leaving jay and sunghoon occupying opposite ends of the sofa. you wandered into the other living room (which heeseung has fashioned into a bar of sorts) in search of something to drink. jay followed a minute later.

“can you pass me a glass?” 

you reached into the cupboard without looking.

“thanks.” he replied simply, and if you’d met his gaze, you’d have seen the slight raise of his eyebrows and the hint of a smirk playing on his face.

he leaned against the counter while you filled your own glass with water. there was a comfortable quiet between the two of you, broken only by the distant sound of riki insisting someone had cheated.

“so.” he started.

you looked over.

“so?”

jay shrugged.

“nothing.”

“…you’re doing that thing again.” you exclaimed, probably louder than you should’ve.

“what thing?”

“where you say ‘so’ because you actually want to ask something. that thing that all older women do.” you said, poking him. you thought maybe riki was rubbing off on you, making fun of jay’s mannerisms even though he was only a junior, not too far off of you. he didn’t even bother denying it, just rolled his eyes at you exaggeratedly.

“…are you and jungwon dating?”

the question landed so casually that, for a second, your brain didn’t register it. you just blinked up at him for a second.

“…what?” you muttered, eyes wide.

“you heard me.”

“jay.”

“yes?”

“…what?”

he frowned slightly, as though you were the confusing one.

“i’m just asking.” he smiled, poking at you as if to reassure you. he didn’t expect you to have an expression on your face akin to that of someone who’d just been stabbed.

“why?” you said, forcibly narrowing your eyes as you tried to steel yourself. 

“because you spend half your week together.”

“we study together.”

“you also get coffee afterwards.”

“because we’re already there.”

“and then you walk each other home.”

“…we live in the same direction.”

jay just hummed in response, doing that annoying, all-knowing thing with his eyebrows again.

“interesting.”

“what is?”

“how you’ve got an answer for every single one.”

you opened your mouth. closed it again. before you could muster up another aimless defence, sunghoon wandered into the living room.

“what are you two talking about?”

jay answered before you could.

“whether she and jungwon are dating.”

sunghoon paused.

“…i thought they were.” he said casually.

your heart stopped. you actually thought this in your head before coming to the gross realisation again of how childish you probably seemed. sunghoon turned to glance between you and jay, looking genuinely confused.

“wait…”

his eyes moved between you and jay again.

“…you’re not?” he almost exclaimed, shock painting his features.

“…nope!” you said, popping the p in a desperate attempt to seem unbothered.

“oh.”

“…my bad.” he sounded almost disappointed.

you stared at both of them.

“…why would either of you think that?” you muttered, bringing your cup to your lips in a quiet plea that they’d take that question rhetorically.

much to your dismay, jay just gave you a look that bordered on incredulous.

“because every time one of us asks where you are, the answer is jungwon.”

“because he’s put almond pepero on the ‘essentials’ section on heeseung’s shopping list. and we all know you’re the only one who likes them.”

to your horror, sunghoon continued counting on his fingers.

“because i’ve seen him smile more in the last month than i did during the whole first year.”

“because you both look for each other before anyone else when we all meet up.”

your mouth opened. nothing came out. jay’s expression softened almost immediately, a twinge of regret in his eyes.

“hey.” he nudged your shoulder gently.

“i wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“…i know.” you mumbled, now even further embarrassed realising he’d probably noticed the flush on your cheeks.

“just forget i asked.”

you nodded. you tried to smile. you weren’t sure whether it looked convincing. because the problem obviously wasn’t that jay had asked. the problem was that, for the first time, you couldn’t stop replaying everything he’d just said. you did look for jungwon first. you’d never noticed that. and much more terrifyingly, had he?

jungwon had always preferred kitchens to living rooms. not because there was anything particularly interesting about washing dishes or collecting empty glasses, but because kitchens gave him something to do. there was a certain comfort in keeping his hands occupied while conversations carried on around him. from the sink, he could still hear everyone laughing from the other room, hear riki loudly accusing jake of cheating at whatever game they’d inevitably started, hear sunoo protesting about something that was almost certainly insignificant.

it was familiar. comfortable. he liked that. he was rinsing the last of the glasses when footsteps approached behind him, quick enough that he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. riki had never been particularly subtle.

“avoiding us already?”

jungwon glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his attention to the sink.

“i’m just washing dishes.”

“that’s not what i asked.”

he smiled faintly to himself. “i know.”

another pair of footsteps followed a moment later, slower this time. heeseung. without a word, he picked up a tea towel and began drying the plates jungwon passed across the counter. it was something the two of them had done often enough that neither of them thought about it anymore. for a while, the three of them worked quietly. or, more accurately, jungwon and heeseung worked quietly while riki stood nearby looking as though he were waiting for the perfect opportunity to interrupt.

it didn’t take long.

“so…”

jungwon didn’t look up.

“…what?”

“where’s y/n?”

the question was so casual that it took him a second to process, he frowned slightly in response.

“in the living room?”

“no.” riki shook his head.

“she went to get a drink.”

“…okay.” jungwon said blankly, obviously confused.

“and you didn’t follow her.”

jungwon finally looked up.

“…was i supposed to?”

the grin that spread across riki’s face immediately made him suspicious. heeseung noticed too, hiding a smile behind the rim of his glass. 

“he genuinely doesn’t realise,” riki muttered, sounding almost impressed.

“realise what?” jungwon almost exclaimed, frustrated now.

instead of answering immediately, heeseung rested the plate he’d been drying on the counter and regarded jungwon thoughtfully.

“when was the last time the two of you weren’t together for more than a day?”

jungwon just blinked. the question felt oddly specific. he thought about it for a moment. lectures, the library, coffee after studying, group dinners, another study session.

“…i don’t know.”

the answer came more honestly than he’d intended. because he genuinely couldn’t remember. somewhere over the last month, seeing you had become part of his routine. not in a way he’d ever consciously planned. you were simply… there. thursday afternoons belonged to the library now. if one of you finished class early, the other usually received a message asking whether they wanted to start studying sooner. if you both happened to be on campus longer than expected, one of you would inevitably suggest grabbing something to eat before heading home. none of it had felt unusual. it still didn’t. friends spent time together, and that was all.

“exactly,” riki said, sounding far too smug and pleased with himself.

jungwon frowned, which riki took as a sign to continue.

“that’s exactly my point.”

“…i don’t know what your point is.” 

“you never do.”

heeseung laughed quietly, folding the tea towel over one shoulder.

“he means that you’ve become close.” heeseung finally chipped in, fond look ever present in his gaze when regarding you or jungwon.

“we are close.” the words slipped out defensively before jungwon had really considered them. he paused, then looked back down at the sink.

“…i think.”

heeseung’s expression softened.

“you don’t have to sound so unsure.”

jungwon wasn’t unsure, that wasn’t the problem. he knew the two of you had become friends. good friends, probably. it was just strange hearing someone else say it aloud. because once they did, he found himself replaying the last few weeks in his head. you reaching across the table without asking to steal his pen, the way you always thanked him, even after he’d insisted you didn’t have to. the fact that you now complained whenever he skipped lunch, as though it had somehow become your responsibility to make sure he ate. he hadn’t noticed any of those things changing. they simply had.

“she’s good for you.” heeseung said it so matter-of-factly that jungwon looked up again.

“…what do you mean?”

“you seem happier.”

jungwon almost laughed.

“because i’m helping someone study?”

“because it’s her.”

the kitchen fell quiet. jungwon looked away first, he didn’t really know how to answer that. he liked spending time with you. that much was obvious. you made difficult afternoons feel lighter somehow. studying, something he’d always considered a solitary task, had become something he looked forward to instead of simply getting through. you made him laugh. more than he’d expected. sometimes without even trying. but that didn’t mean anything, did it? before he could untangle the thought, riki nudged his shoulder.

“you’re a lucky bastard, you know.”

jungwon looked at him.

“she’s pretty.” he continued, heeseung rolled his eyes in response, exasperated with riki’s instinct to always state the obvious.

“and she’s really really nice. everyone likes her.” there wasn’t any jealousy in his voice, just simple certainty.

“she could’ve asked loads of people for help.” heeseung added, much to jungwon’s dismay.

“yeah, well, she asked me.” jungwon almost snapped back, frown deepening further.

“exactly.” riki smirked.

“that’s what we’re saying.” heeseung added on.

jungwon opened his mouth before closing it again. but it was true, you had. for reasons he still didn’t fully understand. before he could think about it any longer, riki ruined the moment completely.

“seriously, hyung.”

he grinned.

“if i were you, i’d be feeling pretty lucky.”

jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching over to swat him lightly around the back of the head.

“you’re unbelievable.”

“i know.”

riki rubbed the back of his head dramatically despite the fact that the hit had barely registered. heeseung only shook his head, amused. neither of them pointed out the faint colour settling across jungwon’s ears. neither of them needed to. because jungwon was already wondering why a perfectly ordinary conversation had left him thinking about you. not about your coursework, or the next tutoring session. just you. and for the first time since the two of you had become friends, he found himself lingering on the thought much longer than he meant to.

somewhere along the way, jungwon stopped feeling like someone you were trying to get to know. for months, he had existed at the edge of your life. someone you recognised before you knew him. someone whose name you heard often, whose face you saw across lecture halls and at group dinners, but never someone you expected to become important to you. now, you couldn’t remember the last time you went an entire day without speaking to him. it wasn’t intentional. that was what maybe made it worse. there had never been a conversation where the two of you decided to become close. no dramatic turning point where you suddenly realised you were friends. it had happened in the quiet spaces between everything else. a message after a lecture because you’d both complained about the same assignment, a five minute conversation that somehow became forty, a walk back from the library that became a regular thing because your routes happened to overlap. you had started knowing things about jungwon that you never would have noticed before. aside from the obvious, everyone knew he was smart. everyone knew he was reliable. everyone knew he was the person people went to when they needed help understanding something complicated. you knew the smaller things. you knew he always checked the weather before leaving the flat because he hated being caught in the rain, you knew he got quieter when he was tired, not because he was upset but because he was saving what little energy he had left for anybody else that needed it, you knew that when he was trying not to laugh, he pressed his lips hard together like he was physically stopping himself.

you knew he pretended not to care about things he absolutely cared about. and somehow, those were the things that made him impossible not to like. which was becoming a bit of a problem. because you were starting to notice him in ways you hadn’t before. you realised it one evening in the library. not in some huge, overwhelming way. you weren’t staring dramatically across the table, suddenly struck by how much you liked him… it was much more inconvenient than that. you were working through a practice question, completely stuck despite having already read through the explanation twice. jungwon was beside you, typing something into his laptop while occasionally glancing over to check your progress. you had gotten used to that, his quiet attention. the way he never interrupted unless he thought you genuinely needed help, the way he somehow knew when you were about to give up before you even admitted it.

“you’re doing that thing again.” he whispered, breaking the silence.

you looked up.

“what thing?”

his eyes moved briefly to your notebook.

“you’re staring at the paper like it’s a death sentence or something.”

you looked back down.

“feels like one.”

a small smile appeared on his face. that tiny reaction you had somehow become weirdly proud of causing. jungwon didn’t often laugh loudly. he didn’t have the dramatic reactions that some of your friends did. but when you made him smile, it felt like you’d earned something. which was ridiculous, you knew that. still.

“you’re impossible,” he said, rolling his eyes fondly.

“and yet you keep tutoring me.” you whispered back, scrunching up your nose as you did so.

“that’s because i’m nice.”

you looked at him, really looked at him with that quizzical glare he’d come to love.

“that sounded suspiciously like you were complimenting yourself.”

“i was stating a fact.” he muttered back, flush rising to his cheeks as he suddenly turned his head back to his laptop.

you giggled under your breath.

and that was when it hit you. not because he looked particularly different, or because something magical happened. just because you realised you wanted to remember this. you wanted to remember sitting in this library with him, you wanted to remember the way he looked when he was trying to defend himself, you wanted to remember the sound of his voice when he was amused. and that was when the thought finally settled.

oh. you liked him. and not in the vague way you liked people, the way you liked your friends. you liked jungwon. and instead of feeling terrifying, the realisation was strangely calm. like your brain had finally caught up with something your heart had already known for weeks.

after that, you didn’t suddenly become a different person. if anything, you became more yourself around him. because now that you knew why you enjoyed being around him, you stopped trying to explain it away. you stopped pretending that you didn’t look forward to thursdays. you stopped pretending that you didn’t check your phone more often when you knew he might message. you stopped pretending that you didn’t notice when he walked into a room. and maybe you became a little less subtle. not intentionally. you just found yourself wanting to make him smile, wanting to hear his little laugh, wanting to see the moments where he forgot to be reserved. you teased him a little bit more. you stole his pens more often despite having your own. you sent him random messages that had absolutely nothing to do with studying. sometimes he replied immediately. sometimes it took him hours because he was busy. but he always replied. and every single time, you caught yourself smiling. which was embarrassing because you had never been someone who cared this much about a notification.

jungwon noticed. he wasn’t sure when it started. at first, he thought nothing of it, you had always been friendly. that was one of the first things he had noticed about you. you made people feel instantly comfortable, you talked to literally everyone, you remembered names with an ease he wished he had about him. you smiled at strangers like it was the simplest thing in the world. so when you started saving him a seat before he arrived, he assumed you were just being considerate. when you started bringing him into conversations more often, he assumed you were making sure he didn’t get left out. when you started teasing him more, he assumed you were simply comfortable. all of those explanations made sense, because they were true.

but jungwon was also beginning to realise there was a difference between how you treated everyone else and how you treated him. you were still yourself, but there were moments. small ones. like the way you sometimes seemed to look for his reaction after saying something funny. like how you remembered things he mentioned once and brought them up weeks later, similar to what he did with you. how you had somehow learned his coffee shop order without him ever telling you, however simple it was.

he noticed. he noticed everything. that was the problem. because the more he noticed, the harder it became to convince himself that you were just being friendly. and he didn’t know what to do with that. jungwon had never been someone who rushed into things. he liked certainty, he liked understanding situations before acting on them. but with you, everything felt slightly unfamiliar. because he understood assignments and he understood programming, he understood problems with clear and correct answers. he didn’t understand why he felt disappointed when you had to leave early, he didn’t understand why he checked his phone more often than usual after sending you a message. he didn’t understand why, whenever everyone was gathered together, he always seemed to know where you were without trying. and he definitely didn’t understand (and was beginning to feel very frustrated by the fact) why he had started looking forward to fucking tutoring sessions of all things even when there was usually very little actual tutoring involved.

“you’re coming tonight, right?”

jungwon looked up from his laptop. you were standing beside the table, your bag already over your shoulder.

“coming where?”

you stared at him.

“jungwon.”

he blinked up at you before realising.

“oh.”

“game night.” you said, smiling at him and pumping your fist with excitement. right. the group had been planning it for nearly a week, he knew that. he just hadn’t connected the reminder to the fact that you were the one asking.

“yeah, sure, i’m coming.”

“good.” you replied, flashing him a toothy grin. your answer came too quickly but you didn’t seem embarrassed by it. if anything, you looked pleased.

“because i need someone on my team.” 

jungwon raised an eyebrow.

“you lost last time.” he deadpanned, glare flat but not devoid of a soft affection behind it, an affectionate which he secretly hoped you wouldn’t miss.

“because everyone cheated.” you whined, before remembering to keep your voice down.

“everyone?”

“everyone.”

“including me?”

“especially you.” you whispered back after hesitating a little.

he shook his head, but he was smiling. and you noticed. of course you noticed. you felt like you noticed everything about him now. however, the thing you didn’t notice was the way he watched you walk away. or the way he smiled slightly to himself when he realised he’d started looking forward to the evening for a reason that had nothing to do with the silly games jake and heeseung put him up to.

by now, nobody questioned where jungwon would be sitting. it wasn’t something that had been decided. there had never been a conversation where someone had pointed at an empty chair and declared it his, or where you had officially claimed the space beside him as yours. it had simply become another one of those small, unnoticed habits that appeared when people spent enough time together. the same way sunghoon always complained about being hungry approximately ten minutes after eating. the same way jay pretended he wasn’t invested in whatever game everyone was playing despite somehow knowing every rule. the same way jake always arrived a little bit late and acted as though everyone else had been waiting up specifically for him. and the same way jungwon always ended up beside you. sometimes you noticed it, sometimes you didn’t. that was probably what made it feel so natural. there was no awkwardness anymore. no carefully choosing where to sit, no wondering if you were bothering him, no hesitation before sending him a message that had nothing to do with coursework. at some point, jungwon had stopped being someone you were trying to get comfortable around. he was just someone you were comfortable with. which was arguably much more dangerous. because once you got used to someone being there, you really started noticing when they weren’t.

game nights had become a regular occurrence in heeseung’s flat. not weekly, because everyone had enough assignments and deadlines to make that impossible, but often enough that it had become part of everyone’s routine. the first few times, you had still felt like you were unwelcome, entering someone else’s space. jungwon, heeseung and riki lived together, and although you were friends with all of them, there had always been something slightly different about being in their home. it was where jungwon existed outside of uni. where he wasn’t the person sitting at the front of lectures with a laptop open and a notebook full of impossibly neat handwriting. here, he was different, softer. he wore old t-shirts and pyjama shorts instead of structured outfits. his hair was usually messy from running his hands through it while studying. he complained more than people would expect, especially when sunoo purposely chose the most frustrating games possible.

it was strange how much you liked seeing those parts of him. not because they were really that surprising, but because they were his. you had spent so long knowing him as someone everyone admired from a distance that getting to see the ordinary parts made you feel oddly special. tonight was no different. you were sitting on the floor between the sofa and coffee table, surrounded by half-finished drinks, snacks and discarded game pieces. everyone was talking over each other, which meant nobody was actually listening properly. except jungwon. he always listened, you had noticed that early on. even when he wasn’t actively involved in a conversation, he was paying attention. he remembered details people mentioned casually. he noticed when someone looked uncomfortable and quietly changed the subject. you had once asked him how he remembered so much. he had just looked genuinely confused, as though he hadn’t realised he did it, it was just so ingrained in his being, to care for others. that was probably one of the things you liked most about him. he never seemed to understand how thoughtful he was.

“you’re overthinking it.”

you looked beside you. jungwon was looking at your cards.

“you don’t even know what i’m thinking.” you frowned.

“yes, i do.”

“you’re very confident.”

“you’ve been staring at the same card for three minutes.”

you looked down, then back at him.

“that doesn’t mean anything.” you pouted, glaring slightly at him now over the top of your deck. he just smiled in response. 

you should have been used to that by now. his tiny grins, just for you. the way he was much funnier than people gave him credit for because most people never stayed around long enough to notice. but you weren’t, not really. because every time he made you laugh, some part of you still felt ridiculously pleased that you were the one who got to see that side of him. which was a thought you tried not to examine too closely.

the thing about liking jungwon was that it hadn’t changed your friendship. that had surprised you. you had expected the realisation to make everything feel different and much more complicated. like suddenly every interaction required careful consideration. instead, you had simply become the tiniest bit more aware. you noticed when he pushed his glasses further up his nose while reading. you noticed how he always checked whether everyone had arrived before starting anything. you noticed that he never took the last of whatever odd snack jake had bought over from the table unless someone specifically told him to. you noticed that he always walked slower when leaving places with you. that last one had taken you a while to figure out because jungwon never made a show of it. he never said he was waiting, he simply adjusted his pace. and somehow, you always ended up walking together. you wondered if he knew he did that. you wondered if he realised how many little things he did that made you feel important. you also used to wonder if you were the only one who noticed, which now you suspected was false after jay’s earlier interrogation. you were right. you realised this when you returned from the kitchen with two drinks and found everyone looking at you. well, not everyone. specifically just jay, sunghoon and sunoo. which was somehow worse.

“what?” you murmured, your voice lacking any real bite because of the probably too loud sigh that followed it.

sunoo immediately looked away too quickly for your liking.

“nothing.” he said, voice an octave higher.

“that was suspicious.” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“you’re suspicious.” he snapped back, sticking his tongue out immaturely.

“that doesn’t even make sense.”

“exactly.”

you stared at him blankly, then forced your gaze upon jay, who seemed like he was trying very hard not to smile.

“why are you all being weird?” you whined.

“we’re not.” sunghoon muttered, wiggling his eyebrows in that annoying way he often did.

“you are.” jay whispered at you, smug expression still pasted onto his sharp features.

before the conversation could continue, riki interrupted from across the room, completely unaware that he had saved you from being questioned further. or maybe he was aware. with riki, it was impossible to tell. you sat back down, handing jungwon his drink without thinking. only after you had done it did you realise you’d remembered exactly what he liked. again. not because he had told you, but because you just knew. jungwon accepted it with a quiet thank you, looking down at the cup before glancing back at you.

“you remembered?”

the question was innocent, he just sounded oddly surprised. you weren't quite sure why when he did the same kind of thing tenfold when it came to remembering your preferences and favourite things. but something about it made you feel a disappointed. because you weren’t sure why it surprised him so much.

“of course i did.” you shrugged forcibly, doing a bad job of feigning nonchalance.

you said it before you could overthink it. for a moment, jungwon just looked at you. then his expression softened.

“right.” he replied, face now weirdly blank other than the remaining fondness in his eyes.

that was all, just one word. not worth overthinking, you repeated in your head like a mantra.

later that night, when everyone had started leaving, you found yourself standing near the front door with jungwon. it wasn’t unusual because he always walked you out. sometimes he walked you home. sometimes he didn’t, depending on how late it was and how much work you desperately urged him to finish. you peeked out of the open door to see that it was raining lightly.

“i didn’t bring an umbrella.” you said sheepishly. jungwon just glanced towards the coat rack.

“i have one.”

“you don’t have to walk me.”

he looked at you. not confused, just slightly surprised. as though the idea had never occurred to him. 

“i know.” he replied blankly.

there was a pause. you immediately thought about backtracking, embarrassment probably evident on your face at how you seemed to just expect him to follow you to your accom, so used to it by now that you didn't even think of the other possibility. a feeling akin to shame burned at the back of your neck. then, he picked up his jacket.

“i want to.”

the relief that spread across your features was palpable. you hoped he didn't notice. jungwon said things like that so naturally, without hesitation, without realising how much weight they carried for you. you just smiled.

“okay.” you said so quietly it was almost a whisper. 

the walk home was quiet. not awkward, never really awkward anymore. you talked about small things. things that wouldn’t matter tomorrow. complaints about assignments. something stupidly funny jake had said to him earlier. a random story sunghoon had told you and sunoo about his crazy ex. ordinary things. you found yourself thinking that ordinary things with jungwon never really felt ordinary. and beside you, jungwon was having a similar thought. he had spent most of his life believing that comfort was something you built alone. in a quiet room, a familiar routine, a predictable schedule. he had never expected another person to become part of that. but somehow, you had. and the strange thing was, he didn’t feel like you had interrupted his life. you felt like you had always been there. when you reached your building, you turned back towards him.

“thanks for walking me.”

jungwon shook his head.

“you don’t have to thank me every time.”

you smiled.

“i know.”

a small pause, which you’d both seemed to be accustomed to by now. then, almost unconsciously, he smiled back. and neither of you noticed how long you stood there before saying goodbye, neither of you noticed that you were both reluctant to be the first person to leave. but maybe that was the thing about something becoming important. you didn’t always notice the moment it happened. sometimes, you only noticed when you realised you didn’t want it to stop.

the dinky coffee shop you two had discovered months ago had become quieter as the afternoon wore on. the lunchtime rush had disappeared almost an hour ago, leaving behind only the occasional student hiding from the rain outside and a few people scattered amongst the tables with laptops propped open in front of them. neither of you had noticed how late it was until one of the baristas began wiping down the empty tables nearby, a subtle reminder that perhaps spending nearly four hours discussing coursework wasn’t entirely normal behaviour. not that either of you minded. you couldn’t remember when studying had stopped feeling like studying when it was with jungwon. assignments still frustrated you and deadlines still came far sooner than they should have, but somewhere along the way, the time between arriving and leaving had started disappearing far too quickly. it was becoming increasingly difficult to separate whether you enjoyed the afternoons themselves or simply enjoyed spending them with him. if you were being honest with yourself, you had known the answer for a while now.

it was still strange thinking about it sometimes. not because it felt wrong or overwhelming, but instead because it felt so obvious in hindsight. you wondered if everyone else apart from jay and sunghoon had figured it out before you had. judging by the increasingly knowing looks from the rest of your friends whenever his name appeared in conversation, you suspected they probably had. you smiled faintly at the thought as you closed your notebook, reaching across the table to collect the loose sheets of paper that had somehow migrated onto his side over the last few hours.

“i think we’ve done enough work for today,” you sighed, stretching slightly in your chair.

jungwon looked up from his laptop, his expression softening into something quietly amused.

“we’ve been here longer than some of my lectures.”

“exactly my point.”

he laughed quietly before also beginning to pack his things away. over the last few months, you had grown used to moments like these. comfortable silences had become second nature between the two of you now. there was no pressure to fill every moment with conversation anymore. it was nice. you had begun to realise recently that your favourite part of the week wasn’t thursday afternoons themselves. it was the fact that they belonged, in some small way, to the two of you. uni was unpredictable and busy and constantly changing, but somehow this, whatever it was, had remained untouched by all of it. you knew that probably meant more to you than it should. probably meant more to you than it did to him.

“everyone keeps asking me about you, by the way.”

the words left your mouth casually as you zipped your bag shut. it wasn’t entirely untrue. all of your friends, not just your mutuals, had become increasingly interested in jungwon’s existence over the last few months, much to your embarrassment.

his eyebrows lifted slightly as he glanced towards you.

“why?”

“i don’t know.” you laughed quietly. “they’re nosey.”

“that’s unfortunate.”

you smiled to yourself at his response before continuing to pack your things away. there was something about talking to jungwon now that felt so easy compared to those first few conversations. you didn’t overthink every sentence anymore. you had long since stopped wondering whether you were bothering him. he was your friend. hopefully more than that, if you were thinking positively. the thing was, lately, you had started wondering whether perhaps you weren’t entirely alone in all of this. there were moments where he looked at you for slightly longer than necessary, moments where he remembered things you were sure you had only mentioned once, moments where he would choose to stay just a little longer when neither of you really needed to. you weren’t foolish enough to assume that meant anything on its own. but, naturally, sometimes you wondered. perhaps that was why you foolishly felt brave enough to continue the conversation.

“you know,” you smiled, resting your chin briefly against your hand as you looked across the table at him, “jay’s like… convinced that there’s something going on between us.” you blurted out as quickly as you could, as if not to give yourself time to immediately regret it.

his expression shifted immediately into something slightly embarrassed.

“i know.”

“it’s getting difficult to convince people otherwise at this point.”

“is it?”

“a little bit.”

there was a brief pause as he packed away the last of his things. you weren’t sure what the fuck possessed you to say what came next. perhaps it was because things had been so good lately. perhaps it was because you were tired of wondering whether you had imagined every small moment between the two of you over the last few months. or perhaps it was simply because you liked him enough to be a little brave! you smiled softly, looking down at your notebook rather than at him.

“i don’t know,” you admitted quietly. “i don’t think i’d mind all that much.”

the words were deliberately vague. gentle enough that you could pretend they meant very little if you needed to. however, you realised they weren’t ambiguous enough to fully shroud your true intentions after mumbling them out. the silence that followed lasted only a few seconds. it felt significantly longer. jungwon seemed to have froze. for a moment, he wasn’t entirely sure he had heard you correctly. his mind immediately began trying to make sense of what you meant, each possibility somehow more terrifying than the last. he knew his friends joked about the two of you often enough. he knew people made assumptions about your friendship. except suddenly, sitting across from you now, he realised there was another possibility he had spent months refusing to acknowledge. you. liking him. the thought shouldn't have felt so shocking anymore. it still did. because if you liked him, then suddenly every feeling he’d spent months carefully ignoring demanded to be acknowledged in return. and jungwon had never been particularly good with uncertainty. friendships made sense to him because they had rules he understood. this didn’t. he didn’t want to lose what the two of you had now. he didn’t want to make things difficult or uncomfortable or complicated. he didn’t want to ruin this.

“i don’t think…” he began quietly before stopping himself, hand reaching up to scratch awkward at the back of his neck. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”

your smile faltered almost imperceptibly, a grimace attempting to fight its way through.

“oh.”

it was such a small sound that he almost missed it entirely. he rushed to continue, unaware that the conversation the two of you were having had become entirely different ones.

“i just mean…” he paused, struggling to explain thoughts he’d barely managed to understand himself. “things are good how they are.”

you pasted on what you thought was your best smile before he had the chance to notice your expression properly.

“yeah.” you replied, nodding your head almost feverishly so he really understood that you meant nothing by it, ignoring the sinking feeling in your gut.

well, at least you had your answer now. looking back, you supposed you should have expected it. jungwon had never really been someone who sought out change when he was happy. perhaps you had simply allowed yourself to become a little too hopeful over the last few weeks. it was embarrassing more than anything else. how stupid of you to have misread things so badly.

“you’re right,” you smiled quietly, standing from your chair and slipping your bag over your shoulder. “they are.”

jungwon just smiled back, relieved that you seemed to understand him. what he didn’t currently realise was that you’d heard blatant, painful rejection, when he’d simply meant to reassure you, and in turn, himself. somehow, that hurt you far more than if he’d simply said no.

if jungwon was really being honest with himself, he thought things had gone surprisingly well. he had spent the entire walk home from the coffee shop replaying the conversation in his head, wondering whether he had explained himself properly. he hadn’t. he’d hardly gotten out a full sentence, much less explained to you everything that was on his mind like a normal person. he knows why he said what he said, because things are good how they are. it had felt honest. reassuring, even, to him at least. and to you too actually! you had smiled afterwards, you had agreed with him. the conversation hadn’t become uncomfortable or tense or anything he had spent the previous five minutes worrying it might become. so, all things considered, he had gone home thinking he’d done the right thing. for approximately twenty-four hours. because the strange thing about spending so much time with someone was that you became accustomed to all of their little habits without ever consciously meaning to. they simply became part of his own routine before he had realised they were there. jungwon knew exactly how long it usually took you to reply to his messages. he knew that you hated studying in complete silence and always put together strangely specific playlists whenever assignments became particularly difficult. he knew that you had an endearing tendency to become more affectionate when you were excited about something, talking slightly faster and laughing a little louder than usual. he knew that when you were tired, you absentmindedly played with the sleeves of your jumpers while trying to stay focused. he knew these things in the same unconscious way that he knew the walk back to his flat or his coffee order or his timetable for the semester. he simply knew them. which was why he noticed almost immediately when something had changed. not enough for anyone else to pay attention to, just enough that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. the first few days afterwards, he convinced himself he was imagining things. you still smiled at him when you saw him. you still sat right beside him whenever the two of you studied together. you still laughed at his jokes, even the terrible ones that never seemed to land with anyone else. nothing had changed. except, somehow, everything had.

you’d stopped doing that stupid thing where you stole his pens. it was almost like tradition now, like a routine, however childish and intentional you both knew it was. that one shouldn't have bothered him nearly as much as it did. for the last few months, he had found himself bringing extras whenever the two of you studied together because you always seemed to lose yours or decide his were somehow better despite being exactly the same. the first tutoring session you’d had after the coffee shop, he had unconsciously placed two pens beside your notebook before he’d even sat down, like he always did. one of them remained untouched for three hours. he told himself he was being ridiculous for noticing, yet he noticed anyway. you thanked him more often now, which somehow felt worse than if you hadn’t thanked him at all. there was a distance in your gratitude that hadn’t existed before. before, your appreciation had always been accompanied by teasing or laughter or some dramatic declaration that he’d saved your degree. now, they sounded almost formal. 

you were still kind. still yourself. just… quieter around him. nobody else noticed it. of course they didn’t. you were exactly the same around everyone else. he watched you laugh so hard at something jay had said one evening that tears had gathered in the corners of your eyes, heeseung watching you fondly from the other sofa. he’d watched you complain dramatically to sunoo about an assignment you’d been putting off for nearly two weeks, riki mocking you right to your face, much to your feigned annoyance. he’d watched you lean comfortably against sunghoon’s shoulder during a movie when you’d become sleepy halfway through. and then he’d watched you be stirred awake by jake’s constant fidgeting on the other side of you. you hadn’t changed. not really. except somewhere along the way, you had become slightly more careful around him. and that was infinitely worse. he found himself thinking about it far more often than he cared to admit.

“you’ve been staring at absolutely nothing for ten minutes.”

jungwon blinked before looking up from where he’d been sitting at the kitchen table. riki was looking at him suspiciously from across the room, eating cereal directly from the box despite heeseung’s careful placement of perfectly usable bowls right next to the boxes, to try and make it easier for him to just do the normal thing.

“i haven’t.”

“you have.”

heeseung looked up briefly from where he’d been making coffee before glancing between the two of them.

“you have.” he agreed through a grimace, much to jungwon’s dismay.

jungwon frowned slightly. “i’m just tired.”

“you’ve been tired for two weeks.”

“uni is difficult.”

riki snorted loudly from his seat.

“no, y/n is difficult.”

the words caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped his pen. heeseung, as always, looked considerably less surprised.

“i was wondering how long it would take for you to say it.” heeseung muttered, rolling his eyes.

jungwon just stared at both of them.

“…what?”

“you’re moping, won.” riki snapped, his tone of voice not matching the sympathetic look on his face.

“i’m not.”

“you’re staring into space all the time.”

“i do that anyway.”

“you’ve made coffee twice this week and forgotten to drink it.”

he paused.

“…that’s happened before.”

“not because you’ve been thinking about someone.” heeseung finally interjected, annoyingly all-knowing look in his gaze. jungwon went suspiciously quiet after that. because that wasn’t possible. was it? he’d spent so long trying not to think too carefully about his feelings for you that he had somehow missed when they’d become something entirely different. he missed hearing from you throughout the day. he missed the way you’d absentmindedly rested your chin against his shoulder while trying to read something on his laptop screen. he missed the familiarity of knowing exactly what you were thinking before you’d said anything at all. more than that, though, he simply missed feeling close to you. he found himself looking for you whenever he walked into a room before he’d even realised he was doing it. he knew immediately when something had happened that he wanted to tell you. he’d begun associating particular songs with you because you’d insisted on adding them to his playlists weeks ago. you had somehow become woven into the fabric of his everyday life so gradually that he’d never noticed it happening. and now, suddenly, he noticed your absence everywhere. perhaps the cruelest part of all of this was that he wasn’t entirely sure what he’d done wrong.

you were still there. you still smiled at him. you still sat beside him every thursday afternoon. but somewhere between two tuesdays ago and now, he had lost something he couldn’t quite name. for someone who had spent his entire life preferring certainty, he had never felt more confused. he was beginning to realise that things were no longer good how they were, and they hadn’t been for a while.

there was something particularly embarrassing about realising you’d been wrong. not devastatingly wrong or life-altering or anything dramatic enough to warrant crying over to your friends at two in the morning. just quietly, painfully wrong in a way that made you wish you could go back and shake yourself from three weeks ago. you weren’t upset with jungwon, you couldn’t be. that would imply he’d done something wrong when, if anything, he’d been much kinder than he needed to be. looking back now, you weren’t entirely sure where your confidence had come from that afternoon. maybe the months of small moments, insignificant accumulating into something bigger in your mind. perhaps it had been everyone else’s comments beginning to blur the lines in your head. or perhaps it had simply been wishful thinking.

whatever it had been, it had been yours. not his. that was the important part. you had offered him an open door and he’d quietly, gently closed it. that was all there was to it. it should have been easy enough to move on from.

the embarrassing part was that you found yourself replaying months worth of memories and wondering how many of them you had gotten wrong. moments that had made your stomach twist pleasantly suddenly felt different when viewed from another perspective.

of course he remembered your coffee order, because jungwon remembered everyone’s. of course he walked you home whenever it got late, because he was simply thoughtful. of course he stayed a little longer whenever the two of you studied together because he enjoyed spending time with his friends.

you hated how quickly your own thoughts began correcting themselves now. there had been a time, not even a month ago, where those moments would have made your heart race for entirely different reasons. now, they simply made your cheeks warm with embarrassment, hot shame burning in your gut.

perhaps that was why you had unconsciously started pulling back. not because you were upset or angry or trying to punish him for anything, but because liking someone who didn’t like you back was difficult enough without making yourself feel disgustingly foolish every time you looked at them.

you still wanted to be his friend. more than that, really. you couldn’t imagine suddenly removing him from your life after everything the two of you had become over the last few months. jungwon had become one of your favourite parts of uni so gradually that you hadn’t noticed it happening until it already had. that hadn’t changed simply because he didn’t feel the same way. you still smiled whenever he sent you something funny. you still looked forward to your thursday afternoons together. you still thought he was one of the kindest people you’d ever met.

you simply couldn’t afford to like him quite so loudly anymore. it was wierd, the little things you stopped yourself from doing without ever consciously deciding to.

you stopped reaching for his sleeve whenever you wanted his attention. you stopped sending him photographs of random things throughout your day simply because they reminded you of him. you stopped sitting quite so close whenever the two of you studied together.

small things. almost insignificant things. except they weren’t insignificant to you. because each one had been an unconscious expression of your affection before you’d realised what it was. you had never meant for him to become so woven into your everyday life.

some days were easier than others. there were moments where you forgot entirely and everything felt comfortably familiar again. then there were moments where he laughed quietly at something you’d said or looked at you with that same soft expression he always wore around you and your heart would ache just a little before settling once more.

you wondered if that feeling would ever completely disappear. hopefully, eventually, it would. for now, though, you thought friendship was enough. it had always been enough before you’d become so greedy for more.

maybe that was why you felt guilty sometimes when jungwon looked slightly confused whenever you thanked him for something or didn’t immediately steal the pen he’d unconsciously left beside your notebook.

because none of this was his fault, he hadn’t changed. you had.

and if protecting your own feelings meant becoming slightly more careful around him for a little while, then you thought that was something you could live with.

jungwon couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt quite so out of place.

looking back, he probably should have refused when heeseung asked him for what felt like the hundredth time if he wanted to tag along. in his defence, it had been a particularly long week and an even longer month. assignments had begun piling up again, he’d somehow managed to spill coffee over half of his notes two days ago, and, perhaps most embarrassingly of all, he’d spent the better part of three weeks pretending he wasn’t miserable whenever he noticed that things between you two had changed.

he was tired of moping around his apartment. riki had become particularly ruthless about pointing it out over the last fortnight and heeseung had long since given up pretending to be subtle whenever he brought your name into conversation.

apparently, staring sadly at your contact for twenty minutes before deciding against sending a message about a video he’d seen was gross and pathetic behaviour. at least according to riki. who was probably right as he knew a whole lot more about these things than jungwon.

despite that, jungwon had still voiced that riki’s assessment of his conduct was unnecessarily harsh. heeseung had wholly disagreed. which was how he’d somehow found himself accepting a drink from jake less than two minutes after arriving.

and then another. and then one he’d accepted entirely because he’d forgotten he’d already had two. he wasn’t drunk. he never really had been. well, at least, he didn’t think he was.

he was simply pleasantly warm and considerably more relaxed than usual, leaning against the kitchen counter while only half listening to whatever story sunghoon was currently telling him. the music was louder than anything he would ever willingly choose to listen to himself and there were significantly more people crammed into the house than he’d initially anticipated, but he was enjoying himself more than he’d expected. granted, he was doing his best to ignore the heavy smell of weed emanating off of jake.

he’d laughed more tonight than he usually did in an entire week. perhaps heeseung had been right after all.

“you should do this more often,” heeseung smiled, nudging his shoulder lightly as he handed him another drink.

jungwon looked down suspiciously at the cup before looking back at him.

“i’ve learnt enough from tonight to know that’s a terrible idea.”

heeseung laughed quietly.

“you’re surprisingly tolerable when you’re tipsy.”

“thank you.”

“that wasn’t entirely a compliment.”

before jungwon had the opportunity to respond, riki appeared between them carrying approximately four different bags of snacks tucked beneath one arm.

“he smiled at a stranger twenty minutes ago.”

jungwon frowned. “i was being polite.”

“you apologised when they walked into you.”

“…that’s also polite.” jungwon muttered back after a moment of hesitation.

“no,” riki laughed, “that’s just wierd.”

heeseung just smirked into his drink. there was something strangely amusing about watching jungwon slightly tipsy. he’d spent so much of uni worrying and overthinking and analysing every situation presented to him that removing even a small amount of that caution left behind him considerably softer than people expected. he laughed easier. smiled more readily. he allowed himself to simply exist amongst conversations rather than constantly listening from the outside of them.

he seemed lighter somehow. it really suited him.

“where’s y/n?” jungwon asked quietly before quickly taking another sip of his drink, pulling his cup up to his mouth with slightly shaky hands.

the three seconds of silence that followed were perhaps the most suspicious seconds of silence he’d ever experienced in his life.

slowly, against his better judgment, he looked up, only to be met with a slightly unsightly view of heeseung and riki garishly grinning at him, their eyes wide but gaze lacking the surprise that usually went hand in hand with this kind of exaggerated expression.

somewhere behind him, he was reasonably certain he could hear jake giggling, although, he could be mistaking it for a cough, courtesy of jake’s persistent tendency to inhale too quick.

“…what?” jungwon snapped, eyebrows furrowed.

“nothing,” riki replied immediately.

“you asked where she was before you’ve asked where literally anyone else is.”

“i asked where you were.”

“after i’d been standing beside you for twenty minutes.”

jungwon chose not to dignify that observation with a response. instead, he just looked towards heeseung expectantly.

“sunoo said she should be here soon.” heeseung said reassuringly, supportively placing his hand on jungwon’s shoulder. although, in hindsight, that may’ve just been to hinder his incessant swaying.

jungwon nodded absentmindedly before returning his attention towards the conversation around him. he didn’t think very much of it. after all, asking where you were wasn’t particularly unusual anymore. he was simply accustomed to knowing whether or not you’d be somewhere.

that was all.

at least, that’s what he’d spent the last three weeks desperately trying to convince himself. it was considerably easier to maintain that delusion when you weren’t standing in front of him.

he heard your laugh before he saw you. 

that wasn’t unusual either.

he thought he’d probably recognise your laugh anywhere now, which was perhaps a more embarrassing admission than he’d ever willingly make aloud. his head turned instinctively towards the front door before he’d consciously registered why and suddenly there you were, laughing quietly at something sunghoon had said as you slipped your coat from your shoulders.

you looked really pretty tonight. the thought came so quickly and naturally that it startled him slightly. you always looked pretty, obviously. he’d realised that a long time ago. he simply didn’t allow himself to think about it very often.

perhaps alcohol was significantly more dangerous than he’d initially given it credit for. he watched absentmindedly as you smiled brightly at everyone gathered in the room before your eyes eventually found his. the smile that appeared faltered slightly, but almost immediately afterwards became softer somehow.

“you’re here?” 

there was something oddly sweet about the genuine surprise in your expression.

“i’m beginning to regret it already,” he smiled quietly, suddenly all too aware of the heat on his cheeks and the smoky smell clinging to his hoodie.

you laughed softly at that before making your way towards him.

“that’s because you’ve only been here for an hour.”

he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d spent the last few days forcibly convincing himself things hadn’t changed all that much between the two of you.

they had. he’d known that. he simply hadn’t realised quite how much he’d missed this. you still smiled at him exactly the same way you always had. you still laughed quietly whenever he made particularly terrible jokes. you still seemed happier somehow whenever the two of you were talking.

the difference was subtle enough that nobody except him would ever notice it. you didn’t touch his arm absentmindedly anymore when you laughed. you left slightly more space between the two of you than before. and perhaps most noticeably of all, you no longer looked at him first whenever something happened that you thought was funny.

they were impossibly small things. he noticed every single one of them anyway.

the rest of the evening passed comfortably enough. conversations blurred together as more people arrived and the music grew louder, everyone splitting themselves into smaller groups before eventually finding their way back together once more.

somewhere throughout all of that, jungwon had unconsciously begun following you around. it wasn’t intentional. at least, not consciously.

if you were in the kitchen, he somehow found himself there five minutes later. if you sat beside sunoo on the sofa, he’d absentmindedly occupy the empty space beside you without thinking very much about it.

he simply preferred being wherever you happened to be.

heeseung had noticed approximately thirty minutes after you’d arrived. riki had noticed considerably faster than that.

“oh my god.”

heeseung looked up from where he’d been talking to jake.

“what?”

riki gestured vaguely towards the living room where jungwon was currently laughing quietly at something you’d said.

“he’s literally following her.”

heeseung just shrugged noncommittally in reply, grin still pasted onto his face.

“no, hyung. look.” riki urged him, poking at his arm before pointing at you and jungwon.

there was something strangely amusing about watching jungwon tonight. he smiled more whenever he was speaking to you. his shoulders relaxed whenever you sat beside him. if somebody asked him a question whilst he was looking at you, there was an unusually chance he’d need it repeated.

he was completely hopeless. his tipsy state wasn’t helping matters, especially considering it was more or less his first time.

“that’s actually insane,” jake laughed quietly as he watched you fix the hood on jungwon’s hoodie where it had folded awkwardly against itself.

jungwon thanked you absentmindedly before immediately continuing whatever conversation he’d been having with you moments earlier. he hadn’t even seemed to notice he’d paused talking entirely whilst you’d fixed it, neck hot as you’d brushed it slightly with your fingers.

sunghoon laughed quietly beside him.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him look at another person that much.”

heeseung smiled into his drink.

“i’ve been saying this for months.”

riki looked genuinely offended.

“and nobody thought to tell him?”

“we have.”

“repeatedly.”

the younger boy’s expression somehow became even more scandalised.

“he’s more oblivious than she is.”

perhaps the most ridiculous part of all of this was that jungwon remained entirely unaware of every observation being made about him throughout the evening. he was too busy wondering whether you’d always looked quite so beautiful whenever you laughed.

he was beginning to suspect that perhaps you’d always looked exactly like this and he’d simply spent too much time pretending not to notice. for someone who had spent weeks mourning the small changes in your friendship, he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember why he’d ever thought things were better before.

it was approaching three in the morning by the time people began discussing leaving.

the house had quietened considerably over the last hour or so, conversations becoming softer as people sank further into sofas and armchairs, unwilling to brave the walk back home just yet. somebody had long since changed the music to something significantly quieter and there was something strangely comfortable about the aftermath of nights like these.

jungwon found that he didn’t mind this part nearly as much as he’d expected to.

he was pleasantly tipsy now, the warmth from the alcohol still lingering comfortably in his chest as he sat amongst conversations that seemed to weave together around him. for perhaps the first time since beginning uni, he wasn’t thinking quite so carefully about every little thing he said or did. he simply existed amongst it all.

more importantly, though, he’d spent most of the evening sitting beside you. 

it had been strangely easy to fall back into old habits tonight. somewhere between laughing quietly at your complaints about one of your assignments and listening to sunoo dramatically retell something that had happened earlier in the week, jungwon had almost forgotten that things had ever changed between the two of you at all.

almost.

because every so often, he’d catch himself waiting for you to unconsciously lean your shoulder against his before remembering that you didn’t really do that anymore. looking back, he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d become quite so selfish.

“you seem suspiciously happy tonight.”

jungwon glanced towards riki sitting opposite him before quietly rolling his eyes.

“i’m fine.” he replied, forcing back a pout.

“that’s somehow significantly more suspicious.”

heeseung laughed quietly from beside him before following riki’s gaze towards where you were sitting, your cheeks slightly pink from both the alcohol and your laughter as you listened to jake explain something particularly enthusiastically with his usual accompanying hand gestures.

“…oh,” riki deadpanned. “never mind.”

jungwon frowned slightly. “what does that mean?”

“nothing.”

it meant considerably more than absolutely nothing.

you looked so beautiful tonight. he thought perhaps indulging in so many drinks had simply removed whatever part of his brain usually stopped him from acknowledging thoughts like that because he’d lost count of how many times he’d found himself looking at you throughout the evening.

it wasn’t only physical attraction anymore either, although he’d long since realised he found you beautiful. it was smaller things than that. he liked the sound of your laugh when you were tired because it became slightly quieter than usual. he liked listening to you talk excitedly about things he knew absolutely nothing about simply because you always looked so happy when you did. he liked that you still became flustered whenever somebody complimented you despite spending your entire life being loved so easily by the people around you.

he liked who you were when you thought nobody was really paying attention. which never truly happened. people were just drawn to you in that way, himself included.

you caught him looking at you from across the room and smiled instinctively, lifting your hand slightly in a small wave before continuing your conversation. his expression softened almost immediately. heeseung watched the entire interaction over the rim of red plastic cup before looking towards riki.

“‘s painful to watch.” he whispered into riki’s ear.

eventually, conversations again turned towards leaving. sunoo had somehow managed to fall asleep against sunghoon’s shoulder almost twenty minutes earlier and jake had been unsuccessfully attempting to convince everyone to stay for another hour despite complaining about how tired he was himself.

jungwon had been helping clear empty glasses from the coffee table when he’d heard you shyly giggling beside him. he glanced towards you immediately.

“how much have you had to drink?”

you thought about it briefly before laughing again sheepishly.

“that’s probably not something i should have to think about.”

he just smiled quietly at that. you weren’t drunk, not really. simply pleasantly tipsy in much the same way he was. your movements were slightly slower than usual and your smile was somehow impossibly softer than it had been all evening.

still, it was enough for him to dislike the idea of you walking home by yourself.  you’d always gone out more than he had throughout uni. if he was being honest with himself, he had worried about you walking home late more times than he would ever willingly admit aloud. that wasn’t particularly new. what was new, however, was his willingness to actually voice it.

“i want to walk you home.”

the words came so naturally that he didn’t really think about them before saying them.

“you don’t have to.” you said, not bothering to stifle the way your jaw temporarily dropped open at his words.

“i know.” he whispered, turning quickly before you could see the further flush on his cheeks, half flustered, half guilty at the way you seemed so shocked by the simple words he usually just held back.

i know. you felt your heart ache slightly before reminding yourself that jungwon had always been thoughtful. he would have offered regardless. you smiled softly up at him.

“okay.”

the walk back was quieter than most. perhaps because the world always seemed gentler after midnight or perhaps because the alcohol had left both of you softer around the edges than usual. your fingers brushed accidentally once when the two of you reached for the sleeve of your jacket that had slipped from your shoulder and neither of you commented on it.

somehow, though, neither of you immediately pulled away either.

and for perhaps the first time in weeks, things didn’t feel quite so different between the two of you anymore. not yet, at least.

there was something comforting about walking through the city this late at night. the rush of the evening had long since disappeared, leaving behind little more than the occasional passing car and the sound of quiet conversation spilling from restaurants preparing to close for the evening. you’d always loved nights like this.

perhaps that was why you’d never minded when jungwon walked you home after studying ran particularly late or movie nights stretched far longer than anyone had originally intended. somewhere along the way, walking beside him had become one of the most familiar things in your life. you were very grateful for that.

the last few weeks had been easier than you’d expected them to be. difficult sometimes, certainly, but easier nonetheless. enough time had passed now that the burning humiliation had softened around the edges into something a little more manageable. jungwon was still one of your favourite people and, if you were being honest with yourself, you thought he probably always would be.

beside you, jungwon was unusually quiet. perhaps he was simply tired after an evening spent far more socialising than he usually subjected himself to. still, there was something different about him tonight. he’d spent almost the entire evening beside you. every time you’d looked around the room, he’d somehow found his way back to wherever you happened to be. even now, his hand brushed occasionally against yours as the two of you walked side by side down familiar streets.

it reminded you a little too much of before.

“thank you for walking me home.”

his eyebrows pulled together slightly at that.

“you don’t have to thank me every time.”

you smiled faintly. “it’s still polite.”

“you never used to.” he blurted out, voice dropping an octave. the words were quiet enough that you almost missed them.

for a moment, neither of you spoke. there were some conversations that seemed easier to avoid than begin. you looked down at the pavement briefly before laughing quietly to yourself. “i’m trying to be better.”

“i don’t think you… needed improving.” he slurred his words a little at the edges.

you hated how easily he could still make your heart ache sometimes. the thing about jungwon was that he had always said the kindest things when he wasn’t thinking about them first. before you had the opportunity to reply, he spoke again.

“i’m sorry.”

you frowned slightly as you looked towards him.

“for what?”

he was quiet for longer than usual this time, his attention fixed somewhere ahead of the two of you. he’d spent the last few weeks thinking about very little else besides what he’d said to you that afternoon and every moment that had followed afterwards. he missed things he hadn’t even realised he would notice before they disappeared. he missed you in ways that felt increasingly impossible to ignore despite the fact that you’d never actually gone anywhere.

it had become difficult pretending that nothing had changed when he thought about you constantly. he was tired of pretending.

“everything.”

your expression softened immediately.

“jungwon…”

“i’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”

you laughed quietly. only then did he notice the deep shame behind your eyes before you lowered your head. “that doesn’t surprise me very much.” you mumbled.

that earned a small smile from him before it disappeared just as quickly.

“i lied.”

you felt yourself pause slightly beside him.

“about what?”

his laugh, usually filled with affection, sounded soft and self-deprecating somehow.

“things being good how they were.”

you froze, gaze still locked onto the floor. suddenly, the walk home didn’t feel so quiet anymore.

“i thought they should be,” he admitted quietly. “i thought if i ignored it for long enough it would just…” he trailed off before shaking his head slightly. “i don’t know.”

there was something almost unfair about hearing him say the things you’d spent weeks trying to convince yourself you’d imagined. you let him continue, feeling a prickling in the corner of your eyes.

“i miss you.”

the confession was so quiet that it almost disappeared amongst the sounds of the city around the two of you.

“i’m right here,” you muttered, watery smile still pasted onto your face for as long as you could muster.

“that’s not what i mean.” he cleared his throat, steely gaze locked onto you.

your heart was beating far too quickly now. so much so that it felt like it’d pop out of your throat.

“then what do you mean?”

he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d become brave enough to say these things. maybe the everflowing drinks had simply quietened the part of him that usually overthought every feeling before allowing himself to voice it. or perhaps he was simply tired of slowly losing the bits of you he liked so much.

“i miss the way things were before that day in the coffee shop,” he admitted honestly. “i miss you texting me about things that don’t matter and sitting too close to me whenever we study and stealing my pens even though we both know you’ve amassed such a collection that you could probably make good money selling them.” he babbled out, suddenly feeling like he was speaking at the speed of light.

your eyes softened almost immediately.

“jungwon…”

“and i know i don’t really get to miss those things because this was my fault.”

a long pause. you didn’t want to fill the silence.

“heeseung says i’ve been insufferable for like… three weeks.”

that startled a giggle from you despite yourself.

“only three?”

“apparently riki thinks that’s generous.”

the two of you smiled at each other softly before the moment settled into something quieter once more.

“i was really scared,” he admitted finally. “and i think i still am.”

you waited patiently for him to continue.

“but i’ve realised i’m… significantly more scared of things staying like this.”

the honesty in his voice stole whatever response you’d been preparing.

slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers slipping carefully between yours as though he was still giving you the opportunity to pull away if you wanted to.

you didn’t.

“i like you,” he smiled quietly. “which is unfortunate because i’m beginning to think i’ve liked you for a really long time.”

“that is unfortunate.” you whispered, unable to hold back your pout now.

there had never really been anyone else who made him feel the way you did. not in the way you had slowly become part of his everyday life without either of you noticing. not in the way he searched for you the moment he walked into a room, or how easily his mood changed simply because you were there. not in the way he had spent weeks feeling the absence of things he hadn’t realised he depended on until they were gone.

and now, standing in front of you, he finally understood just how much he had been avoiding. the moment he finished speaking, there was a quietness between you that felt different from all the others you’d shared before.

then your eyes filled.

jungwon froze.

the guilt hit him almost immediately. he hadn’t expected that. he’d imagined this moment so many times over the last few weeks, but somehow he’d never considered that you might cry. not because he thought you wouldn’t care, but because he hadn’t realised just how much his hesitation had hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered.

his hand lifted almost without thinking, fingers brushing gently against your cheek as he wiped away the tear before it could fall any further. the familiar gesture felt strangely unfamiliar now, like he was finally allowing himself to do all the things he had spent months stopping himself from doing.

“jungwon,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly.

you weren’t upset with him. that was the worst part. even now, even after he had made you feel like you had imagined everything between you, you were still looking at him like you were worried about him feeling guilty.

because that was who you were. and maybe that was the exact reason he had fallen for you without noticing. you had always been patient with him. you had always made space for him. you had always understood the things he struggled to say. and he had spent weeks convincing himself that keeping things the same was safer, when losing the little pieces of you that had become so important had been far worse. the small smile you gave him was enough to ease some of the tension in his expression.

“you’re so unbelievable,” you whispered, voice still slightly unsteady.

he let out a quiet laugh, relieved despite himself.

“i know.”

and somehow, that was enough.

enough for you to stop worrying about whether you were misunderstanding him. enough for him to stop wondering whether he had ruined everything. because for the first time in weeks, neither of you were holding back.

the hands resting on your shoulders crept up to hold your face again, brushing away another stray tear as jungwon motioned to tilt your head up a little further, his reassuring gaze meeting yours again. he cautiously brought this thumb around to brush over your lip, searching your eyes for any unwillingness. he took note of the way your face fit perfectly in his grasp before leaning in, lips finally meeting yours.

the kiss was hesitant at first, almost like both of you were waiting to make sure this was real. but when you leaned into him, when you didn’t pull away, the uncertainty slowly disappeared. he took your bottom lip into his mouth as you somehow reached between the little space between you two to wrap your arms around his head, fingers resting at the nape of his neck, softly carding through the dark hair at the bottom.  

to your dismay, the tears you had tried to hold back slipped free anyway, caught between relief and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting what you had spent so long trying not to want.

jungwon noticed immediately. of course he did.

he pulled back, despite your unintentional and somewhat embarrassing whine at the loss of his soft lips against yours. his hand stayed against your cheek, thumb brushing gently beneath your eye as his expression softened with that same guilt from before.

but before he could apologise again, before he could turn this moment into another thing he needed to fix, you kissed him again. softer this time, a quiet reassurance. the way you pressed against him serving as a reminder that he didn’t have to keep apologising for caring about you.

and maybe that was what finally made him let himself believe it, that this wasn’t something he had accidentally ruined. this was something you both wanted. and he’d no longer be living on the edge of your life anymore. he’d make it his mission to get closer and closer to the centre everyday.

[kinkyhoon]

On the way - Yang Jungwon part 1

Pairing: childhoodfriend!jungwon x fem!reader Genre: college!au, summer love story, fluff, angst Synospsis: Bestfriends forever and nothing will ever make it change...well that's what you thought, but one summer (and an unrequited love) changed everything between the two of you. Maybe you never really saw him as your bestfriend all along... Warnings: dry humping, swearing, oral (both!rec), softdom!jungwon, make out (heavy), alcohol WC: 21k Note: The story takes place in the WGFT Heeseung ff universe and this time it's Jungwon's turn to get his time to shine!!!! Since y’all were so sad about him losing to Heeseung I wanted him to get his happy ending too!!! Hope you enjoy!!! Playlist: Apple Cider by Beabadoobee, Everytime by Ariana Grande, Lost Island by Enhypen, We can't be friends by Ariana Grande, Earrings by Malcolm Todd

You haven't been home in eight months, and somehow the air feels exactly the same as it did when you were seven years old. Some things don't change. Your family's house is exactly as you left it.

"Y/N IS HOME!" your younger brother screams. He barrels into you before you've even dropped your bags, and you stumble backward into the doorframe with an oomph that knocks the breath out of your lungs.

"Daniel, you're seventeen, not seven," you wheeze, patting his back with the one arm that isn't pinned to your side. "You're supposed to be too cool for this."

"Never too cool for my favorite sister."

"I'm your only sister."

"That's why you're my favorite."

Your mother appears from the kitchen, her apron dusted with flour, her face breaking into a smile so wide it crinkles the corners of her eyes. She pulls you into a hug t, and for a moment you just stand there, letting yourself be held, letting the chaos of your family wash over you like water.

"You're too thin," she says, pulling back to examine your face. "Have you been eating? College students never eat."

"I eat, Mom."

"Lies. I can see your cheekbones. That's not natural." She pats your face firmly. "We're fixing this immediately. I made braised short ribs. And your grandmother sent over three kinds of kimchi."

The next hour is a blur of unpacking, being force-fed approximately seventeen side dishes, and deflecting increasingly pointed questions from your mother about whether you're "seeing anyone." You dodge the question with the practiced skill of someone who has been dodging it since high school, and eventually your mother gives up and redirects her energy toward making sure you eat a third helping of everything.

It's only when you're helping clear the table that she drops the bomb.

"Take some of the dumplings next door," she says, already packing a container. "The Yangs just got back yesterday. I'm sure Jungwon would love to see you."

Your hands freeze over the sink. "Jungwon's home?"

"The whole family. And Jungwon looks so grown up now. College has been good to him." She presses the container into your hands and gives you a look that brooks no argument. "Go. Say hello. You used to be inseparable, I'm sure he's been dying to catch up."

You and Jungwon. Inseparable. That's one word for it.

You've known Yang Jungwon since you were four years old, a solemn little boy with a bowl cut and a cute smile who had shown up at your family's barbecue with his parents and promptly shared his packet of strawberry Pocky with you without being asked. That was it. That was the beginning. From that moment on, you were a unit, a package deal, a two-for-one special, a matched set that no one bothered trying to separate.

Your childhood is a highlight reel of Jungwon moments. Jungwon teaching you how to ride a bike. Jungwon walking you to school every morning, even when his own school started earlier and he had to leave his friends to do it. Jungwon sneaking you extra snacks from his lunchbox because you always finished yours first.

You never had to explain yourself to Jungwon. He just knew. He knew that you needed silence sometimes, that your sarcasm was a defense mechanism, that you were terrified of thunderstorms but would rather die than admit it. He knew the exact moment you were about to cry (your left eyebrow twitched, just slightly, before the tears came). He knew you better than anyone, and you knew him just as well.

But then he left for college. And two years later, you left too. And the texts that had started out daily became weekly, then sporadic. The phone calls that had stretched for hours became minutes, then voicemails, then silence. You still sent each other memes sometimes, still liked each other's posts. But the closeness that had defined your entire existence had faded.

It's not anyone's fault. It's just what happens. People grow up, move away, build separate lives in separate cities. It's normal. It's fine. You're fine.

The doorbell chimes, a little melody that you remember from a thousand childhood visits. You hear footsteps inside, heavy and quick, and then the door swings open.

And you forget how to breathe.

Jungwon is standing in the doorway, and he is…he's…he's not the boy you remember.

The Jungwon in your memories is soft around the edges. Lanky limbs, round cheeks, the kind of face that made grandmothers pinch his cheeks. This Jungwon is wearing a tank top that is very, very see-through, because it's soaked with sweat. His hair is damp, pushed back from his forehead, and there's a towel slung around his neck that he's holding with one hand. His shoulders, when did he get shoulders? -are broad and defined. He's been working out. He's been working out, and the evidence is right there, and you are staring.

"Y/N?" His voice is deeper than you remember. He says your name like it's something precious, and his face breaks into that familiar smile, the one that crinkles the corners of his eyes, the one you've known your whole life.

"Dang-" he starts, and then he's pulling you into a hug before you can react, his arms wrapping around you with an enthusiasm that makes the container press awkwardly between your bodies. He smells like sweat and fabric softener and something else, something warm and masculine. "You're home," he says into your hair. "You're actually home. When did you get back?"

"About an hour ago," you manage, your voice coming out relatively normal despite the fact that your face is currently pressed against a pectoral muscle. A pectoral muscle that belongs to Jungwon.

He pulls back, holding you at arm's length, and his eyes sweep over your face with an expression that's so purely, genuinely happy. "You look…you look amazing. Did you get taller?"

"I haven't grown since tenth grade."

"You look taller. It's the posture. You're standing like an adult now."

"Maybe because I’m an adult?"

He laughs. "Come in, come in," he says, stepping aside and gesturing you inside. "Mom's going to lose her mind when she sees you. She was just talking about you yesterday, she found that photo album from the summer we tried to build a treehouse ."

"Oh not the old pictures please."

"You know how nostalgic she can get."

"Y/N?! IS THAT Y/N?"

Mrs. Yang emerges from the kitchen, and within seconds you're enveloped in a hug. She's exactly the same as you remember, warm and effusive, with the same kind eyes that Jungwon inherited.

"Look at you!" she exclaims, pulling back to cup your face in her hands. "You're so beautiful! So grown up! Doesn't she look beautiful, Jungwon?"

"She looks beautiful," Jungwon agrees, and when you glance at him, his ears are slightly pink. Probably from the workout.

"Mom brought dumplings," you say, holding up the container. "She said you just got back yesterday and probably haven't had time to cook."

"That woman is an angel. Tell her we're having dinner together this weekend, no arguments, no excuses. I'm making bibimbap." Mrs. Yang takes the container and steps back toward the kitchen, already calling for her husband to come see who's at the door.

Mr. Yang appears a moment later, and the whole scene devolves into the kind of chaotic, overlapping welcome that you've experienced a hundred times before. Mrs. Yang starts pulling out photo albums. Mr. Yang asks about your classes and nods approvingly at your answers even though you're pretty sure he doesn't fully understand what your major entails.

And then the photo albums open, and the real embarrassment begins.

"Oh, this one!" Mrs. Yang crows, pointing at a photograph. "Look at you two! You must have been... what, six and eight? The school talent show!"

You lean in to look at the photo, and your soul briefly leaves your body.

"We were doing a skit about King Arthur," Jungwon says, his voice pained. "Y/N was Arthur. I was Lancelot."

The photos keep coming. Jungwon's first day of middle school, with you standing next to him on the front steps, your arm linked through his. A Halloween where you both dressed as characters from the same video game. A summer vacation at the beach where Jungwon got sunburned so badly he couldn't move for two days, and you sat beside him reading aloud from his favorite book until he fell asleep.

"I should probably head back," you say eventually, after the photo albums have been exhausted and Mrs. Yang has extracted a firm promise that you'll be at the family dinner this weekend. "Mom's probably wondering if I got kidnapped."

"I'll walk you out," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something slightly awkward, slightly hesitant, that makes your stomach flip.

He walks you to the front door. "Hey," Jungwon says, his hand on the doorframe. "You want to walk to the convenience store? Like old times? I could really go for one of those melon ice creams."

"Sure," you say, and your voice comes out more casual than you feel. "But only if you put on an actual shirt first. I'm not being seen in public with you looking like... that."

He glances down at his tank top, and his ears go pink again. "Right. Yeah. Give me two minutes."

He disappears back into the house, and you stand on the front porch, trying very hard not to think about the way his shoulders looked in that tank top. Or the way his voice has deepened. Or the way his arms felt when he hugged you.

This is Jungwon, you remind yourself firmly. Jungwon, who is basically your brother except not actually your brother but definitely the brother-adjacent figure you've known your entire life.Stop being weird.

He reappears two minutes later in a soft-looking t-shirt and jeans, and the two of you set off down the familiar path toward the convenience store. 

"How's school?" Jungwon asks, falling into step beside you. "Your mom said you're doing really well. Something about making the dean's list?"

"Dean's list, yeah. It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal. You're a genius."

"I'm a person who doesn't sleep enough and has spent more time studying than partying."

"That's what being a genius is."

You laugh and maybe this won't be so hard. Maybe you and Jungwon can just... slip back into the rhythm you always had. Best friends, nothing more, nothing less. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, at the way the fading sunlight catches the angles of his jaw, the way his sleeves stretch slightly over his biceps, the way his lips curve into that familiar half-smile. This is going to be a long summer.

Apple Cider - Beabadoobee now playing

The next few days are as you expected. Jungwon, as it turns out, is completely, infuriatingly, obliviously the same. Not the same as the Jungwon who left for college two years ago, no, he's different in ways that keep catching you off guard. The broader shoulders. The deeper voice. The way he moves now, with a quiet confidence that wasn't there before, like he's grown into his own skin. But the way he treats you? That hasn't changed at all. He's still the same protective, brotherly, endlessly thoughtful Jungwon who's been orbiting your life since before you could tie your own shoes.

And that's the problem.

On Tuesday, he shows up at your house at 9 AM with a toolbox and a determined expression. Your mother mentioned, in passing, at the barbecue planning session that had somehow materialized in your kitchen, that the hinge on the back door was sticking. Jungwon, being Jungwon, took this as a personal mission.

"You don't have to do that," you say, standing in the doorway with a mug of coffee clutched in your hands. You're still in your pajamas. Your hair looks like it's been through a tornado. You were not prepared for visitors.

"It'll take ten minutes," Jungwon says, already crouching down to examine the hinge. His t-shirt rides up slightly as he bends, revealing a strip of skin above his waistband, and you very deliberately look at the ceiling. "Your mom does so much for everyone. The least I can do is fix a door."

"You're a philosophy major, not a handyman."

"Undeclared, technically. And I've picked up some skills." He glances up at you, and his smile is so genuinely warm, so completely devoid of any awareness that he's currently making your morning extremely complicated, that you want to throw your coffee at him. "Besides, I like helping. It makes me feel useful."

"Your people-pleasing is showing."

"My what?"

"Nothing." You take a sip of your coffee. 

On Wednesday, he helps your mother cook. You walk into the kitchen to find them side by side at the counter, your mom teaching him how to fold dumplings. Jungwon's fingers are clumsy with the wrappers, his dumplings coming out lopsided, but he's laughing, that bright, infectious laugh that makes your mother smile and pat his cheek like he's her own son.

"He's such a good boy," your mom says to you later, after Jungwon has gone home with a container full of the dumplings he helped make. "So polite. So helpful. Any girl would be lucky to have him."

You make a noncommittal sound and flee to your room before she can see the color rising in your cheeks.

On Thursday, he brings you boba. Unprompted. Just shows up at your door with two cups of brown sugar milk tea and that same devastating smile, saying he remembered it was your favorite and the new shop in town finally opened and he wanted to try it with you.

"This is bribery," you say, taking the cup anyway. "What do you want?"

"Can't a guy just bring his best friend boba without ulterior motives?"

"I've known you for fifteen years. You definitely have ulterior motives."

"Fine." He has the decency to look slightly sheepish. "My mom wants me to clean out the garage, and I was hoping you'd keep me company while I do it. She said she found our old middle school yearbooks in there, and I thought we could... I don't know. Look through them. For nostalgia."

Nostalgia. Right. Because looking at photographic evidence of your awkward preteen phase while sitting in close proximity to Jungwon in a dusty garage sounds like a completely safe activity that won't do anything weird to your heart.

"Sounds fun," you hear yourself say, because you're a masochist apparently.

And it is fun. Infuriatingly fun. You sit on an old lawn chair while Jungwon sorts through boxes, and you flip through yearbooks filled with photos of the two of you at every stage of adolescence. Jungwon with braces. You with bangs that were a tragic mistake. The two of you at the eighth-grade dance, standing stiffly next to each other. The two of you at the high school soccer game, your face painted with the school colors, his arm slung casually around your shoulders.

"God, we were such dorks," you say, holding up a photo of Jungwon in a truly unfortunate neon-green track suit.

"Speak for yourself. I was rocking that look."

"You looked like a highlighter."

"A very fashionable highlighter."

The laughter comes easily, the way it always has. And that's the thing that's messing with your head. Because when you're actually talking to him, when you're just existing in his presence the way you've done a thousand times before, everything feels normal. Easy. Like nothing's changed. But then he'll reach past you to grab something, and his arm will brush against yours, and you'll catch the scent of his laundry detergent mixed with something warm and distinctly him, and your brain will short-circuit entirely. Or he'll laugh at something you said, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you'll find yourself staring at the curve of his lips and wondering things you have absolutely no business wondering about your childhood best friend.

And then the guilt hits. Because this is Jungwon. The boy who has never once looked at you as anything other than his best friend, his little sister. And here you are, mentally glazing every time he so much as flexes his forearms, like some kind of deranged romance novel protagonist who's forgotten the entire context of her own life.

You're terrible. You're a terrible person. You need to get a grip.

The barbecue is on Saturday. Both families, together, in the Yangs' backyard. It's a tradition that's been going on since before you can remember, and missing it would be unthinkable. So you can't avoid it. You can't avoid him.

On Friday afternoon, your mother hands you a grocery list that's approximately the length of a short novel. "We need everything for the marinade, plus the sides, plus drinks, plus-"

"Mom, this is enough food for an army."

"The Yangs are an army. Take Jungwon with you. He's got a car, and you shouldn't be carrying all those bags by yourself."

"I can carry bags. I'm an adult."

"You're a twig. A strong wind could knock you over. Take Jungwon."

So you text Jungwon, and Jungwon responds within thirty seconds with an enthusiastic yes!!! and three emojis that don't go together in any logical way, and twenty minutes later you're in the passenger seat of his car, heading to the grocery store.

"Remember when we used to ride our bikes to the corner store?" he asks, pulling into the parking lot. "We'd pool our allowance and buy as much candy as we could afford, and then we'd sit on the curb and eat it all before dinner."

"And then your mom would be mad because you ruined your appetite."

"She was always mad. I was a very difficult child."

"Yeah, I remember when you used to get ragebaited by your grandma a lot. Really funny."

"Please don’t mention it again."

"You were twelve."

Grocery shopping with Jungwon is an experience. He pushes the cart, pausing every few feet to consult the list your mother gave him and cross-reference it with the items in the cart. He reads the nutrition labels on everything, which is new, the Jungwon of your childhood would have just grabbed whatever had the most colorful packaging.

"College changed you," you observe, watching him compare two jars of sesame oil. "You're like... a responsible adult now. It's disturbing."

"Someone had to become a responsible adult. You're still the same chaos gremlin you've always been."

"You want that gremlin to punch that pretty face of yours?."

"Oh so you like my face? I’m honoured."

"I like your face only when you shut your mouth."

The checkout line is long, and Jungwon insists on paying, "your mom already does so much, let me contribute something", and you're standing beside him, helping bag the groceries, when you see it.

A small box. Brightly colored. Sitting innocently in the plastic bag among the vegetables and the marinade ingredients and the six-pack of Sprite. Condoms. You stare at the box for approximately three seconds, your brain refusing to process what it's seeing. Then the processing kicks in, and a series of thoughts flash through your mind in rapid succession:

That's a box of condoms.

In Jungwon's grocery bag.

Jungwon bought condoms.

Why does Jungwon have condoms?

Oh god, Jungwon has condoms because he uses condoms.

Oh god, Jungwon has sex.

Jungwon has SEX.

WITH PEOPLE.

"Y/N?" Jungwon's voice cuts through your spiral, and you realize you've been frozen in place with a head of cabbage clutched in your hands like a stress ball. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine!" you say, and your voice comes out approximately three octaves higher than normal. "Totally fine. Great. Never been better. Cabbage. Love cabbage. Great vegetable. Very... leafy."

Jungwon squints at you, clearly not buying a single word of this, but the cashier chooses that moment to announce the total, and he turns away to pay. You shove the cabbage into the bag with perhaps more force than necessary.

It's not a big deal. It's not a big deal. He's a twenty-something guy in college. Of course he's had sex. Of course he's bought condoms. This is normal. This is fine. You're fine.

But the thought sticks in your brain like a splinter, and by the time you're back in the car, the groceries loaded into the trunk, you've worked yourself into a state of quiet, internal frenzy.

How many girls has he slept with? Did he have a girlfriend? Multiple girlfriends? Is he seeing someone right now? Why didn't he tell you? Why would he tell you? It's not like you're his- you're not his anything. You're his childhood best friend. You're basically his sister. He doesn't owe you a detailed accounting of his romantic history.

But still.

Who were they? What were they like? Were they pretty? Smart? Funny? Did he hold their hands the way he holds yours? Did he kiss them? Did he-

You cut the thought off before it can finish. You don't want to know. You really, really don't want to know.

Back at your house, you help him carry the groceries inside, your movements mechanical, your brain still running through increasingly unhelpful scenarios. Jungwon is chatting about something, the barbecue, maybe, or his plans for the rest of the summer, but you're barely listening. The box of condoms is burning a hole in your brain.

"Hey," you say, setting down the bag of vegetables with a little more force than strictly necessary. "Can I ask you something?"

"Always." Jungwon turns to face you, his expression open and unguarded, and you feel a pang of guilt for what you're about to do. This is none of your business. You shouldn't be asking this. You have no right to ask this.

But you're asking it anyway, because you're a self-destructive idiot who can't leave well enough alone. "Did you..." You pause, searching for the right words. "In college. Did you... see anyone?"

Jungwon blinks. "See anyone?"

"Like... date. Or... you know. Hook up with. Or whatever." You wave your hand vaguely, like you're talking about the weather. Like this is a casual, normal conversation between two platonic childhood friends who definitely don't have weird, complicated feelings about each other.

Jungwon's ears go pink. "That's... a pretty personal question."

"Forget it. Sorry. None of my business." You turn back to the groceries, your face burning.

"No, it's fine. It's just... unexpected." He leans against the kitchen counter, his arms crossing over his chest. "Yeah. I dated a bit. Nothing serious. I, uh..." He rubs the back of his neck, a nervous gesture you recognize from childhood. "I hooked up with some people too."

Some people. Plural. Multiple. The words hit you like a punch to the stomach.

"Okay," you say, your voice remarkably steady considering the chaos happening inside your chest. "Cool. That's cool. Normal college stuff. Good for you."

"Are you sure you want to hear this? You're making that face."

"What face?"

"The face you make when you're trying very hard not to react to something. Your left eyebrow is doing the twitchy thing."

"Totally sure," you say. "I'm just curious. We haven't really talked about... any of this. I don't know anything about your life in college."

Jungwon is quiet for a moment, his expression shifting into something more thoughtful. "There was... actually, there was someone I really liked. Last semester."

"Someone you liked," you repeat.

"Yeah. A girl in my philosophy elective. I had this whole crush on her for months, but I was too nervous to say anything." He smiles, but it's a different kind of smile, softer, more distant. "It's kind of a long story. She actually ended up with one of my best friends. It's okay now, they're really happy together, and I'm genuinely glad for them. But it was... a wake-up call, I guess."

"A wake-up call?"

"I realized I'd spent so much time waiting and overthinking that I'd missed my chance. I didn't want that to happen again." He shrugs, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "So I decided to just... live. Explore. Stop being so scared of everything. I figured if I didn't put myself out there, I'd just keep watching opportunities pass me by."

"So you started... sleeping around."

"That's a very blunt way to put it."

"I'm a blunt person."

"I know." He laughs, the one that crinkles his eyes. "It's one of the things I've always liked about you."

"So yeah," Jungwon continues. "I hooked up with people. Nothing serious, like I said. Just... trying things. Figuring out what I want. It's been good for me, honestly. I feel more confident now. Less like I'm waiting for something to happen and more like I'm actually living my life."

"That's... good. That's really good." You're saying the right words, but your voice sounds hollow to your own ears. "I'm happy for you."

Jungwon grins. "What about you? Any hot college romances I should know about?"

"No. Nothing. I've been too busy studying."

"Really? No one caught your eye?"

Just you, you don't say. Just the person I'm not supposed to think about like this. Just my childhood best friend who apparently spent his college years having casual hookups with other people while I was sitting in my dorm room wondering why I couldn't feel anything for anyone else.

"Nope," you say out loud. "I'm married to my textbooks."

"That's tragic."

"That's academia."

He laughs again, and then his expression shifts into something more mischievous. "Well, if it makes you feel better, you don't have to be jealous. At least my first kiss was with you."

Your brain screeches to a halt. "What."

"You know. High school. My parents' closet."

Sophomore year. It was a random Saturday afternoon, and both your families were downstairs preparing for some dinner party or another. You and Jungwon had escaped to his parents' room, hiding in the walk-in closet among the coats and the winter boots, having one of those rambling conversations that always seemed to happen when you were alone together.

And somehow, the conversation had turned to kissing. Neither of you had done it before. Neither of you wanted to be bad at it when the time came. And somehow, you still don't remember who suggested it first, you'd agreed to practice. With each other. Just to get it out of the way.

It had started awkward. A nervous brush of lips, both of you too hesitant to commit. But then Jungwon's hand had found your waist, and your fingers had curled into the fabric of his shirt, and something had shifted. The kiss had deepened. Became something hungrier, more urgent. His mouth had moved against yours with a confidence that surprised you both, and you'd made a sound, a small, breathless sound that had made him pull you closer.

It had lasted maybe five minutes. Maybe longer. Time had gone strange and elastic in the darkness of that closet. When you'd finally pulled apart, both of you breathing hard, his forehead pressed against yours, neither of you had spoken. The silence had been so loud it was deafening.

And then his mom had called you both for dinner, and you'd scrambled out of the closet like guilty criminals, and neither of you had ever mentioned it again.

Until now. Apparently. Because Jungwon is just casually bringing it up like it's some funny childhood anecdote, like it didn't fundamentally alter your brain chemistry when it happened.

"That wasn't-" you splutter. "That wasn't a kiss. That was... practice."

"Practice that went on for a really long time."

"We were curious!"

"We were very curious."

"YOU'RE THE WORST."

Your fist connects with his stomach before your brain can intervene. It's not a hard punch, you're not trying to actually hurt him but he doubles over anyway, laughing so hard that his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry," he wheezes, "I'm sorry, your face, you should have seen your face-"

"I HATE YOU."

"You don't hate me. You've never hated me a day in your life."

"I'm starting today. I'm starting right now."

He straightens up, still grinning, and there's no awkwardness in his expression at all. No hidden meaning. No tension. Just fond amusement, like the memory of making out with you in a closet is just one of many sweet, funny moments in the long history of your friendship.

And that's when it hits you. Really, truly hits you.

This whole situation, the confusing feelings, the stolen glances, the jealousy that's been eating you alive since you saw that stupid box of condoms, it's all completely one-sided. Jungwon isn't looking at you differently. Jungwon isn't secretly harboring feelings for you. Jungwon is exactly where he's always been: your best friend, your brother in all but blood, the person who knows you better than anyone and loves you exactly the way he always has.

Platonically. Completely, utterly, devastatingly platonically.

"I should... go help my mom with the marinade," you say, your voice coming out steadier than you feel. "I'll see you tomorrow. At the barbecue."

"Definitely." Jungwon's smile is warm and genuine and so completely oblivious that it makes your chest ache. 

You're already backing out of the kitchen, your movements stiff and mechanical. Jungwon gives you a little wave, already turning back to the groceries, completely unaware that he's just detonated a bomb in the middle of your emotional state.

You make it to your home, then your room. You close the door. You lock it. And then you punch your pillow with the full force of your frustration.

"At least my first kiss was with you," you mutter, mimicking his voice in a high, mocking tone. "So you don't have to be jealous." Punch. "It was PRACTICE." Punch. "We were CURIOUS." Punch. "I've been pining like an IDIOT and you're out there having HOOKUPS and telling me about your PHILOSOPHY CRUSH."

You collapse face-first onto the pillow, your voice muffled by the fabric.

"He's so STUPID. He's so OBLIVIOUS. He's out there looking like THAT and talking about his SEX LIFE and bringing me BOBA and fixing my mom's DOOR and he doesn't even NOTICE-"

You stop. You roll onto your back, staring at the ceiling. "What doesn't he notice?" you ask the empty room.

You know the answer. You've known the answer since the moment you saw him standing in that doorway in his stupid see-through tank top. You're into him. You're into him. Into your childhood best friend who has never once looked at you as anything other than a little sister. Into the guy who just casually told you about his college hookups and his philosophy crush and the fact that he decided to "explore his youth," whatever that means.

And what are you supposed to do with that? Confess? Risk ruining a friendship that's been the most stable thing in your life for fifteen years? Put everything on the line for a chance that he might, maybe, possibly feel something too?

No. Absolutely not. You're not going to be one of those people who ruins a lifelong friendship because they can't control their feelings. You're stronger than that. You're smarter than that. You're going to shove these feelings into a box, lock the box, and throw away the key.

Reality check, you tell yourself firmly. He doesn't see you that way. He's never seen you that way. The closet kiss was just curiosity. The way he looks at you is just friendship. The way he always saves you a seat and remembers your boba order and offers to fix things around your house is just the person he is…kind and thoughtful and completely, thoroughly platonic.

You are his childhood best friend. You are basically his sister. And that's all you're ever going to be.

You press your face back into the pillow and let out a long, muffled groan.

The barbecue is in full swing by the time you make your way to the Yangs backyard, and the scene is exactly as chaotic as you expected.

Mr. Yang is manning the grill. Your father is standing beside him, offering unsolicited advice about the proper way to flip the meet, which Mr. Yang is ignoring with the practiced patience of someone who has been receiving this advice for two decades. Your mother and Mrs. Yang are setting up the side dishes on the long picnic table, their heads bent together in what looks like a very intense gossip session. And Jungwon, Jungwon is walking toward you with a plate of meat fresh off the grill and a smile that makes your stomach do a flip.

"You're late," he says, holding out the plate. "I saved you the first batch before my dad could burn it."

You take the plate, and your fingers brush against his. The contact is brief, barely a second, but your skin tingles where he touched you, and you have to resist the urge to yank your hand back like you've been burned. This is fine. You've made peace with your feelings and shoved them into a mental box, and you're going to act completely normal today.

"Thanks for the meat," you say, and your voice comes out blessedly casual.

"You look kinda goofy."

"And you look like an idiot."

"Your idiot," he says. He doesn't mean it the way you want him to mean it. He means it the way he's always meant it, best friends, partners in crime, the two of you against the world. 

The afternoon unfolds in the easy, familiar rhythm of family gatherings. You eat too much. Your mother tells embarrassing stories about your childhood. Mrs. Yang counters with embarrassing stories about Jungwon's childhood. At some point, someone produces a karaoke machine, and your father treats everyone to a truly spectacular show of an eighties power ballad that has the entire yard howling with laughter.

And through it all, there's Jungwon. Sitting beside you at the picnic table, his knee occasionally bumping against yours. Refilling your drink before you even realize it's empty. Catching your eye from across the yard and making funny faces until you crack a smile. It's so normal. So familiar. So exactly like every other barbecue you've attended in the past fifteen years.

Except it's not. Because now you're aware of him in a way you never were before. Now you notice the way his laugh sounds when he throws his head back. Now you catalog the way his fingers curl around his cup, the way his shoulders move under his shirt, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins at you. It's exhausting. It's infuriating. It's the most alive you've felt in months.

"You're eating all the mushrooms," Jungwon observes, watching you pluck another one from the communal plate. "You know other people might want mushrooms, right?"

"Other people should have been faster."

"There were like ten mushrooms on that plate and you've taken eight of them."

"Nine, actually. I took one while you were talking."

He laughs, and you stuff another mushroom in your mouth to compensate.

The conversation shifts, as it always does, into the easy back-and-forth that's been your default setting since childhood. You argue about the correct way to pronounce a word you both heard differently. You debate whether the new coffee shop in town is better than the old one. You're laughing unguarded, when Jungwon reaches past you to grab the pitcher of lemonade. His hand slides across your lower back as he moves, just for a second, just to steady himself, but the contact sends a jolt of electricity through your entire body. His palm is warm through the thin fabric of your shirt, and his fingers press lightly against your waist, and his voice, when he speaks, is low and close to your ear.

"Excuse me for a second," he murmurs, and the tone, casual, intimate, completely unaware of what he's doing to you, makes your knees go weak.

Do not fold, you command yourself. Do not fold. You are a strong, independent person who is not going to melt because your childhood best friend touched your waist like it's the most normal thing in the world.

"The lemonade," you manage, your voice slightly strangled. "It's... right there."

"I see it now. Thanks."

His hand slides away, and you exhale a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding. Across the yard, your mother catches your eye and raises an eyebrow. You pointedly look away.

The drinking competition starts, as all great disasters do, with your father.

"Beer!" he announces, standing up from his lawn chair with the slightly unsteady enthusiasm of someone who has already had two. "We need more beer! And a competition!"

"A competition for what?" Mr. Yang asks, looking up from the grill.

"Drinking! We're all old now. When was the last time we really let loose?"

"Last New Year's Eve," your mother says flatly. "You threw up in the rose bushes."

"Details."

Despite your mother's protests, the beer is produced. And not just a few bottles, your father disappears into the house and emerges with an entire case, his expression triumphant. Within twenty minutes, both sets of parents are lined up at the picnic table, a row of shot glasses (filled with beer, because they're middle-aged adults who know their limits but are pretending not to) arranged in front of them.

"Rules!" your father announces. "First one to tap out loses. Winner gets bragging rights for the entire year."

"There are no rules," Mrs. Yang says. "You just made this up."

"I'm the commissioner of this competition. I can make rules."

"You're an accountant."

"I'm an accountant and a commissioner."

The competition, predictably, devolves into chaos. Your mother, who has the alcohol tolerance of a hummingbird, bows out after two shots and spends the next hour giggling at everything anyone says. Mrs. Yang puts up a surprisingly strong fight, matching your father shot for shot until she suddenly stops mid-sentence, blinks, and announces that the sky is "very sky-like tonight." Mr. Yang, who has been nursing the same beer for the entire afternoon, is declared the winner by default when your father attempts a victory shot and misses his own mouth entirely.

"I won?" Mr. Yang says, looking genuinely confused. "I didn't know we were competing."

"That's the spirit," your father slurs, clapping him on the shoulder. "That's winning energy."

By the time the sun sets, both sets of parents are in various states of inebriation. Your mother is asleep in a lawn chair, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open. Mrs. Yang is having a very intense conversation with the family dog about the meaning of life. Your father and Mr. Yang are attempting to fold up the picnic table and failing spectacularly.

Which leaves you and Jungwon. The only two sober people in a yard full of chaos.

"We should probably clean this up," you say, surveying the carnage. Empty bottles cover the picnic table. Plates of half-eaten food are scattered across every available surface. Someone, you suspect your father, has draped a string of fairy lights around the grill in what appears to be an attempt at decoration.

"Probably," Jungwon agrees. "Or we could just leave it and let them deal with it tomorrow."

"Your mom is currently explaining life to a golden retriever."

"The dog seems very engaged."

"Jungwon."

"Fine, fine. I'll get the trash bags."

The cleanup takes the better part of an hour. You collect the empty bottles while Jungwon tackles the food, scraping leftovers into containers and stacking plates with the practiced efficiency of someone who has cleaned up after many family gatherings. The parents eventually stagger inside, your mom leaning heavily on your dad, Mrs. Yang still muttering philosophical observations to the dog, until it's just the two of you in the quiet backyard, the only light coming from the string of fairy lights that your father had so artistically arranged.

"Well," Jungwon says, tying off the last trash bag. "That was..."

"A disaster?"

"I was going to say a successful family event, but disaster works too."

"It's not a real barbecue until someone passes out."

"Your dad set a new record this year. He almost made it to sunset."

"Personal growth."

Jungwon laughs, and the sound echoes in the quiet yard. He's standing close to you, closer than you realized and the fairy lights catch the angles of his face, the curve of his smile, the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. He looks like something out of a movie. A romance movie. The kind you watch when you want to torture yourself with unrealistic expectations about love.

"So," he says, leaning against the now-clean picnic table. "The parents are asleep. The food is put away. The dog is having an existential crisis. What now?"

"I don't know. Go home? Go to bed?"

"We could do that." He tilts his head, and there's something in his expression, something teasing, something challenging. "Or we could continue the tradition."

"What tradition?"

"The drinking competition. You know. Carry on the family legacy."

"Everyone else is passed out."

"Exactly. The title is still up for grabs."

You raise an eyebrow. "You want to have a drinking competition. With me."

"I want to see if you can handle it." His smile widens, and it's the same smile he used to give you when you were kids. "Unless you're scared."

"I'm not scared. I'm sensible. There's a difference."

"Sensible is just a word scared people use."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"It makes perfect sense. You just don't want to admit it."

The banter is familiar, comforting. But there's something different about it tonight. Something that feels almost like flirting, even though you know it's not. Even though Jungwon is just being Jungwon, and you're just being you, and this is exactly the kind of stupid challenge you would have accepted without hesitation back when you were teenagers and didn't know any better.

"Fine. But I'm warning you, I'm very competitive."

"So am I."

"My dad keeps a bottle of whiskey in the study," he says over his shoulder. "The good kind. The kind he thinks no one knows about."

"You're going to steal your dad's whiskey?"

"I'm going to borrow it. There's a difference."

"That's not how borrowing works."

"It's how my borrowing works."

The Yangs' house is quiet and dark, the only sound the distant snoring of a parent somewhere upstairs. You follow Jungwon to the study. He rummages through the bottom drawer with the confidence of someone who has done this before, and when he straightens up, there's a bottle of amber liquid in his hand.

"Ta-da," he says, holding it up like a trophy. "Twelve-year aged whiskey. My dad's been saving it for a special occasion."

"And this counts as a special occasion?"

"First barbecue of the summer? Definitely special."

"You're going to regret this tomorrow."

"Probably. But that's future Jungwon's problem. Current Jungwon wants to see if you can hold your liquor."

You follow him back to the living room, where he produces two glasses from the kitchen and pours generous measures of whiskey into each. He hands you a glass, and your fingers brush against his, and you very pointedly do not think about the contact.

"Rules," Jungwon says, settling onto the couch. "We take turns. Each of us drinks when it's our turn. First one to tap out loses."

"That's not a game. That's just... drinking."

"It's a drinking game. The game is drinking."

"That's the laziest game I've ever heard of."

"Do you have a better idea?"

You don't. So you clink your glass against his and take your first sip.

The whiskey burns going down, warm and smoky, and you can feel it spreading through your chest like a slow fire. Jungwon takes his turn, then you take yours. The glasses are refilled. The room starts to feel warmer, Jungwon's face is slightly flushed now, and his laugh comes easier, and he's sitting closer to you on the couch than he was before. Or maybe you're sitting closer to him. It's hard to tell.

"Remember the closet?" he says, and the question catches you off guard.

"What closet?"

"My parents' closet. High school. The-"

"I know which closet." Your face is heating, and it's not just from the whiskey. "What about it?"

Jungwon grins, and it's a looser grin than usual, less guarded. "Nothing. Just... that was a good kiss. For a first kiss, I mean."

"It was practice."

"It was a lot of practice."

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

"I'm not drunk. I'm... pleasantly tipsy."

"That's a very fancy way of saying drunk."

"I'm a fancy person."

"You're wearing a t-shirt with a cartoon cat on it."

"The cat is wearing a top hat. That makes it fancy."

Jungwon laughs so hard he nearly spills his whiskey. You catch his arm to steady him, and the contact is electric, and you pull your hand back like you've been burned.

"You know what," you say, the whiskey courage flooding through your veins, "you were actually a terrible kisser. Back then. In the closet. You were bad at it."

Jungwon's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Terrible. All teeth and no technique."

"That is... extremely revisionist history."

"It's accurate history. You were bad. I was just being nice about it."

"I was not bad. I was-" He pauses, searching for the right word. "-enthusiastic."

"Enthusiastically bad."

"You were enthusiastic too!"

"I was practicing. There's a difference."

The room is spinning slightly now, but you don't care. The whiskey has unlocked something in you, something reckless and brave and completely, utterly stupid. The mental box where you've been storing your feelings is starting to crack at the edges, and you can't seem to find the energy to patch it back up.

Childhood friend? Brother-sister bond? Screw that. Screw all of that.

"I've had time to perfect it, you know," Jungwon says, and his voice is lower now, rougher. "Since high school. I've gotten better."

"That's what you think."

"It's what I know."

"Prove it."

The words hang in the air between you like a challenge. Like a dare. 

Jungwon blinks, his glass pausing halfway to his lips. "Prove it?"

"You said you've gotten better. I don't believe you." Your heart is hammering, but your voice is steady. "I want to test it out. For scientific purposes."

"You're drunk."

"So are you. That's not an excuse."

Jungwon stares at you for a long moment. His expression is unreadable, surprise, confusion, something else that flickers in his eyes and disappears before you can identify it.

"You're serious," he says.

"I'm always serious."

"You're the least serious person I know."

"And yet here I am. Being serious."

The silence stretches between you. Your heart is pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it. This is it. This is the moment where he laughs it off, makes a joke, brings back the familiar brotherly distance that's been the foundation of your friendship for fifteen years.

But he doesn't.

"Okay," he says, and his voice is so quiet you almost miss it. "Let's test it out."

He sets down his glass. You set down yours. Jungwon stands up, and you stand up, and the room tilts slightly, but you don't care.

"Let’s go to my place," you say, and your voice comes out surprisingly steady. "My room. The parents are all passed out anyway."

"Your room," Jungwon repeats. "Your childhood bedroom. With the stuffed animals and the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling."

"The stars are still there. The stuffed animals are in a box."

Jungwon follows you to your house (which is literally five steps outside his house). Your room is exactly as you left it, the bed is made, the curtains drawn, and the lamp on your nightstand casts a warm, golden light across everything.

Jungwon stands in the doorway, his hand on the frame, his expression caught between hesitation and something else. "Last chance to back out," he says quietly.

"I don't want to back out."

"You're sure?"

Everytime - Ariana Grande now playing

Instead of answering, you reach out and grab the front of his shirt, pulling him into the room. The door clicks shut behind him.

Jungwon sits at the edge of your bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. You stand before him for a moment, heart pounding in your chest, before climbing onto his lap, straddling him with a confidence you don't know you possess.

His hands immediately find your hips, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shorts. He pulls you closer, pressing you against the growing hardness beneath his jeans, and a soft gasp escapes your lips.

"What are you waiting to kiss me?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough with intoxication.

Instead of answering, you lean in, capturing his lips with yours. The kiss starts slow, tentative that quickly deepens as years of suppressed desire come rushing to the surface. His lips are soft but demanding, moving against yours with a practiced confidence that makes your head spin.

The kiss quickly escalates from tender to feverish. You are devouring each other, mouths opening wider, tongues tangling in a desperate dance. It is messy and urgent and everything you haven't let yourself imagine for all those years. Jungwon's hands roam your body, sliding up your back, fingers tangling in your hair, then back down to grip your ass, pulling you tighter against him.

He starts sucking your tongue into his mouth, drawing it in with a deliberate, sexual rhythm that sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core. His eyes remain open, locked with yours as he works your tongue, the intensity of his gaze nearly undoing you completely. The wet, obscene sounds of his sucking fill the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.

Your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against him in a rhythm that matches the pull of his mouth on your tongue. The friction of your clothed bodies sliding together creates a heat that is almost unbearable.

"Fuck," he groans against your mouth, releasing your tongue briefly. "You feel so good. Move harder."

His words spur you on, and you move with abandon, dry humping him with a desperate need that borders on obscene. Every thrust of your hips against his sends waves of pleasure through your body, and you can feel his arousal pressing insistently against you, growing harder with each movement.

Jungwon's hands slip under your shirt, his rough palms sliding against your skin as he explores the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine. He breaks the kiss only to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there. You tilt your head back, giving him better access as your hips continue their relentless rhythm.

"You like that?" he whispers against your skin, his voice husky with desire. "Like riding me like this? So desperate for it."

"Shut up," you breathe, even as your body responds to his taunts, moving faster, harder.

"Make me," he challenges, capturing your lips again in another searing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth with renewed intensity, and this time you meet him with equal fervor, sucking and licking and biting in a battle for dominance that neither of you is truly trying to win.

The room grows hotter, the air thick with the scent of whisky and arousal. Jungwon's hands roam freely now, squeezing your breasts through your shirt, pinching your nipples until you cry out against his mouth.

"You’re so cute," he murmurs, his words muffled by your kisses. "Wonder how you'd look with my mouth somewhere else." Jungwon meets your rhythm, thrusting up against you, his hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Look at you," he continues, his voice dropping lower, becoming rougher. "So desperate for it. Bet you're soaking through these panties right now, aren't you?"

"Only if you're not already leaking through those jeans," you shoot back, your own voice breathy with need.

His response is a guttural groan as he increases the pace, his hips bucking up to meet yours with an urgency that matches your own. The bed creaks beneath you, the sound joining the symphony of wet kisses, ragged breaths, and whispered profanities that fill the room.

"Jungwon," you gasp against his mouth, the name a prayer and a curse all at once.

"Right here," he responds, his hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even closer as he increases the friction between you. "Not going anywhere."

The pressure builds to an almost unbearable level, your movements becoming frantic as you chase your release. Jungwon seems to sense your need, his mouth returning to yours in a kiss that is both possessive and tender, his tongue once again sucking yours into his mouth with a rhythm that pushes you over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you with surprising intensity, waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you collapse against him, boneless and trembling. Jungwon holds you through it, his arms wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses against your hair as you struggle to catch your breath.

When your senses slowly return, you become aware of the hardness still pressing against you, a testament to his own unsatisfied desire. You lift your head to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the room.

"Your turn," you whisper, a mischievous smile playing on your lips as you prepare to return the favor.

Just as you shift to take control, Jungwon's hands shoot out, gripping your waist with surprising strength. "Oh no," he murmurs against your lips, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your entire body. "I'm not letting you lead this game. Not yet."

Before you can protest, he's flipped the positions, maneuvering you with an ease that is both impressive and infuriating. You find yourself sitting at the edge of the bed, breathless from the sudden movement, while Jungwon kneels before you. His eyes, dark and intense, never leave yours as his fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts.

"These have to go," he states simply, tugging them down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you completely exposed from the waist down. A flush creeps up your neck as you realize how wet you are, the evidence of your earlier orgasm glistening on your thighs.

Jungwon notices too, of course. A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face as he traces a finger along the damp skin of your inner thigh. "Well now," he teases, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Someone got excited. Tell me, Y/N, did you just squirt? Because this looks like more than just regular excitement."

You open your mouth to deliver a sharp comeback, but the words die on your lips as he leans in, pressing soft kisses against your inner thigh. His lips are warm and gentle against your sensitive skin, a stark contrast to the roughness of his earlier actions.

"I should kiss your lips from down there too," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot against your core. "Since you're so convinced I'm a terrible kisser, maybe I need to practice on a different set of lips."

His mouth moves higher, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Then he pauses, sucking gently at the tender skin of your inner thigh, leaving a dark mark that will surely be visible tomorrow. He repeats the action on the other side, creating matching hickeys that stand out against your pale skin.

"I don't see the point of putting them on the neck," he explains, admiring his handiwork. "These are much more interesting, don't you think?"

You can't form a coherent response, not when his mouth is so close to where you need it most. And then he is there, his tongue tracing a slow, deliberate path along your folds. The sensation is electric, sending jolts of pleasure through your entire body.

Jungwon doesn't hold back. He devours you with an enthusiasm that is almost overwhelming, his tongue exploring every inch of your most sensitive areas. It is too much, too intense, and you find yourself trying to slide away, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through you.

But Jungwon isn't having it. His arms lock around your thighs, holding you in place as he effortlessly slides you back toward his waiting mouth. "Oh no you don't," he growls against your core. "You wanted proof, and I'm not done proving anything yet."

His tongue enters you then, fucking you with a rhythm that makes your toes curl. It is delicious, the way he moves inside you, exploring every inch of your inner walls with a skill that is both impressive and infuriating. You look down at him, at the way his dark hair falls across his forehead as he works, at the intense concentration on his face as he focuses on bringing you pleasure.

Just as you are approaching the edge again, he slows down, his movements becoming deliberate, teasing. He runs his tongue through your folds with agonizing slowness, pausing occasionally to look up at you, his eyes dark with challenge. He knows exactly what he is doing, the bastard. He is provoking you, testing your limits, pushing you to the brink of insanity with his maddeningly slow pace.

The sounds are the worst part, or the best part, you can't decide. Each slow lick is accompanied by a wet, sucking noise that echoes in the quiet room, a constant reminder of what is happening between your legs. 

"Say it," he murmurs against you, his voice muffled by your flesh. "Say I'm a good kisser."

You bite your lip, determined not to give him the satisfaction. You are always stubborn, always bratty when challenged, and this is no different. If he wants you to admit he is good, he is going to have to work harder for it.

Jungwon chuckles, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. "Still so defiant," he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. "Is that how you treat your precious friend?"

He returns to his task with renewed enthusiasm, his tongue moving faster now, his lips sucking at your clit with a rhythm that makes your hips buck involuntarily. 

"Come on, Y/N," he urges, his voice rough with desire. "Just say it. Say I'm a good kisser, and I'll let you come."

That is all it takes. The combination of his skilled tongue and his dirty talk sends you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you with an intensity that leaves you breathless. As waves of pleasure course through your body, the words finally tumble from your lips.

"You're a good kisser," you gasp, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Oh god, Jungwon, you're such a good kisser."

Jungwon continues his ministrations through your orgasm, drawing out your pleasure until you are completely spent, collapsing back against the bed with a satisfied sigh. Only then does he pull away, a triumphant grin on his face as he looks up at you.

"Glad we settled that," he says, his voice smug with satisfaction. He rises to his feet, standing before you with a noticeable bulge in his jeans. "Now it's your turn. Suck my dick."

Jungwon doesn't wait for an answer. He simply stands and begins to unbutton his jeans. He pushes his jeans and boxers down in one smooth motion, and his cock springs free, hard and heavy.

He stands before you, completely exposed from the waist down. He is bigger than you'd somehow imagined, thick and curving slightly upward, the tip already glistening with precum. A vein pulses along the underside.

"On your knees," he commands, his voice low and rough. It isn't a request, but you find yourself complying without hesitation, sliding off the bed onto the plush carpet of your bedroom floor. He steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his body, close enough that his cock is nearly level with your face. He tangles his fingers in your hair, his grip firm but not painful, using it to tilt your head back.

"Open up," he murmurs, his eyes dark with intensity as he looks down at you. "Let's see if that mouth is good for more than just talking back."

You part your lips, your heart pounding in your chest as he guides himself to your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty bitterness of his precum, and he lets out a low groan, his fingers tightening in your hair.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes, his voice strained. "Just like that."

You take him into your mouth then, slowly at first, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he fills you so completely. You move your tongue along the underside, tracing the path of that pulsing vein, and his hips jerk forward involuntarily.

"Careful," he warns, though his tone is more pleased than admonishing. "I’m enjoying this a bit too much."

You want to see him come undone, to hear him gasp and groan, to know that you are the one causing his pleasure. You take him deeper then, until the tip of his cock brushes against the back of your throat, and you swallow around him, your muscles contracting.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, his hips beginning to move in a shallow rhythm. "You're…fuck…you're really good at this."

You pull back slightly, creating a suction that makes his eyes roll back in his head. Then you take him deep again. Your hands come up to grip his thighs, feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch as he fights to maintain control.

"Look at me," he commands, his voice rough with need. "I want to see those pretty eyes when you're sucking my cock."

You look up at him then, your eyes locking with his as you continue your ministrations. The intensity in his gaze is nearly overwhelming, a mixture of raw desire and something that looks suspiciously like affection. Jungwon begins to move more freely then, his hips thrusting in time with the movements of your mouth. The pace quickens, growing more frantic as he approaches his release. 

"I'm close," he warns, his voice strained.

You can feel it too, the way his cock seems to swell in your mouth, the way his thrusts become more erratic. You double your efforts, taking him as deep as you can, your tongue working frantically against him.

"Y/N," he gasps, his fingers tightening in your hair. "I'm…fuck, I'm coming."

His release is sudden and explosive, hot and salty as he spills into your mouth. You swallow instinctively, taking everything he has to give. When he is finished, Jungwon pulls away slowly, his cock softening as he withdraws from your mouth. He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of awe and satisfaction, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing.

"Come here," he says, his voice softening as he reaches down to help you to your feet. He pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours in a kiss that is both tender and reassuring, tasting of him and of you and of everything you have just shared.

"You did great," he murmurs against your lips, his arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

You melt against him, your body still humming with pleasure, your mind reeling from the intensity of what has just happened. 

You wake up to the sensation of someone driving a truck over you.

No. Wait. That's just the hangover.

Your eyes crack open, and the first thing you register is the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. The second thing you register is that your mouth tastes like something died in it. The third thing is that you're wearing only one sock. The fourth thing hits you like a freight train.

Jungwon.

You bolt upright so fast that the room spins violently, and you have to press your palm against your forehead to keep your brain from escaping through your ears. The memories come flooding back in fragmented, disjointed flashes, the whiskey, the challenge, the door clicking shut. His hands on your waist. You grinding on him. The way he'd said your name, low and rough, like it was something sacred.

You look down at yourself. You're still in your shirt from last night, wrinkled but still there. Your shorts are on the floor. And there, on your inner thigh, just above your knee, is a mark. A small, purplish bruise that definitely wasn't there yesterday.

You look for more, your heart hammering, and find another one. And another. A whole constellation of hickeys mapping a path across your skin.

"Oh my god," you whisper to the empty room. "Oh my god, it wasn't a dream."

It was not a dream. It was very much not a dream. You and Jungwon had gone at each other like two people who had been waiting their entire lives for an excuse. There had been hands and mouths and the kind of sounds you didn't know you were capable of making. And now you have to face him.

You spend approximately fifteen minutes staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, trying to will the evidence off your skin. The hickeys are not going anywhere unfortunately. The smell of breakfast hits you before you even reach the bottom of the stairs. Eggs. Bacon. The unmistakable aroma of your mother's hangover soup, which she only makes when the entire household has made questionable decisions the night before. You follow the scent to the kitchen, your stomach churning with a mixture of nausea and pure, undiluted terror.

And there he is.

Jungwon is sitting at your kitchen table. Your kitchen table. In your house. Eating your mother's cooking like he belongs there, which, to be fair, he kind of does. He's been eating at this table since before he could see over the edge of it. But today, the sight of him makes your entire body go hot and cold at the same time.

He looks... fine. Completely, infuriatingly fine. His hair is slightly damp, like he's just showered. He's wearing a soft-looking sweater and jeans, and he's laughing at something your dad is saying, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that familiar way. There's no sign of a hangover. No sign of regret. No sign that anything at all has changed between you.

"There she is!" your mother announces, spotting you in the doorway. "The last survivor of last night's chaos. Come, sit. I made soup."

You mumble something that might be "good morning" or might be "please kill me," and you slide into the chair across from Jungwon. He glances up at you, and for one heart-stopping moment, you think you see something flicker in his eyes, a flash of recognition, a hint of heat, but then it's gone, replaced by that same easy, brotherly smile.

"Rough night?" he asks, and his tone is light, teasing, completely normal.

"You could say that."

"Your dad was snoring so loud I could hear it from my house."

You stare at Jungwon, waiting for something, a knowing look, a secret smile, something that acknowledges what happened between you. But he just keeps eating his eggs, chatting with your parents like this is any other morning, like he didn't spend a significant portion of last night with his mouth on your-

"Y/N, you're not eating," your mother says, pushing the soup closer to you. "Are you feeling okay? You look flushed."

"I'm fine," you manage. "Just... tired."

"Too much whiskey," your dad says sagely. "I told you kids. The Yangs can hold their liquor. Our family has no chance."

"I'm literally a Yang," Jungwon points out.

"Exactly. You have the advantage. It's genetics."

The conversation flows around and you sit there in silence, pushing your soup around your bowl, watching Jungwon act like everything is normal. Like everything is fine. Like he didn't whisper your name against your lips in the dark of your childhood bedroom.

It's infuriating. It's absolutely, completely, maddeningly infuriating.

The moment breakfast ends, you corner him.

Your parents have retreated to the living room, and Jungwon is at the sink, rinsing his bowl with the same helpful energy he's always had. You wait until you hear the TV turn on, and then you grab his arm and pull him into the hallway.

"Hey-" he starts, but you're already backing him against the wall, your hands planted on either side of him, your eyes blazing.

"What the hell was that?"

Jungwon blinks at you. "What was what?"

"That!" You gesture vaguely at the kitchen, at the breakfast table, at the entire morning. "Sitting there, eating eggs, acting like nothing happened!"

"Because nothing happened."

"Nothing-" You choke on the word. "Nothing happened? Jungwon, we…last night…my room…"

Understanding dawns on his face, and his expression shifts into something more serious. More guarded. "Oh. That."

"Yes. That."

He exhales slowly, his shoulders dropping. "Y/N, look. Last night was..." He pauses, searching for the right word. "It was a mistake."

The word hits you like a slap. "A mistake."

"Not because of you," he adds quickly, his ears turning pink. "Never because of you. But I shouldn't have... we were both drunk. We weren't thinking clearly. I took advantage of the situation, and I'm sorry."

"You didn't take advantage of anything. I'm the one who started it."

"You were drunk."

"So were you."

"That's exactly my point." He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated gesture you've seen a thousand times. "We were both drunk, and we did things that... that we probably wouldn't have done if we were sober. And I don't want that to change anything between us."

Your stomach drops. "You don't?"

"No. You're my best friend, Y/N. You've been my best friend since I was six years old. I'm not going to let one night of... whatever that was... ruin fifteen years of friendship." His voice is earnest, his eyes searching your face for understanding. "I mean, it wasn't even... we didn't even... it was just foreplay, right? It's not like we went all the way. We can just forget it happened. Move on. Go back to normal."

Just foreplay. The words echo in your head like a taunt. Just foreplay. Like it was nothing. Like it didn't matter. Like the marks on your thighs are just random bruises, meaningless and forgettable.

"Right," you hear yourself say, and your voice comes out remarkably steady. "Just foreplay. No big deal."

"Exactly." Jungwon's shoulders relax, and the smile that spreads across his face is so relieved, so genuinely happy, that it makes your chest ache. "I knew you'd understand. You've always been the reasonable one."

"I'm the sarcastic one. You're the reasonable one."

"Then we're both reasonable. Even better." He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, and then he's walking past you, back toward the kitchen, calling out something to your mom about helping with the dishes.

You stand there in the hallway, your back pressed against the wall, and you feel the sting of tears behind your eyes. You blink them back furiously. You are not going to cry. You are not going to cry over Jungwon, who just called what happened between you a mistake. Who said it was just foreplay. Who wants to forget it happened and move on.

You're not going to cry. But you're also not going to forget.

Two days pass.

Two days of pretending everything is normal. Two days of Jungwon acting exactly the same as he always has, helpful and cheerful and brotherly and infuriating. Two days of you smiling and nodding and laughing at his jokes while something hot and angry and desperate simmers just beneath the surface of your skin.

The problem is, you can't stop looking at him.

Every time he reaches for something, you notice the flex of his forearm. Every time he laughs, you watch the way his throat moves. Every time he brushes past you, your body remembers the weight of his hands, the heat of his mouth, the sound of his voice saying your name in the dark. 

It's frustrating. It's maddening. It's the most alive you've felt in years.

"Convenience store run?" Jungwon appears in your doorway on the third afternoon. "I'm craving melon ice cream."

"You're always craving melon ice cream."

"Pretty please."

"Fine." You grab your jacket and follow him out.

Jungwon chatters about nothing, a movie he wants to see, a new boba flavor he tried and hated. You respond in monosyllables, your attention divided between the conversation and the way the afternoon light catches the angles of his jaw.

You need to get a grip. You really, really need to get a grip.

The convenience store is blessedly air-conditioned and mostly empty. Jungwon heads straight for the ice cream aisle, leaving you to wander toward the chip section.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

You turn. The guy standing in front of you is vaguely familiar. It takes you a moment to place him, but then the memory clicks into focus: Jaehyun. High school. You'd sat next to each other in math class for two years.

"Jaehyun!" you say, genuinely surprised. "Wow, it's been a while."

"Right? Three years, maybe? You look great." He grins, and it's a nice grin, friendly and open. "Are you back for the summer?"

"Yeah, just visiting family. You?"

"Same. My parents still live in the old house, so I'm stuck here until August." He rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Small towns, right? Nothing ever changes."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation flows easily, catching up on majors and career plans and mutual acquaintances from high school.

"Hey, we should catch up properly sometime," Jaehyun says, pulling out his phone. "A bunch of us are doing a bonfire next weekend. You should come. Bring whoever you want."

"Yeah, maybe. That sounds-"

And then his hand reaches out and ruffles your hair. It's an innocent gesture. Friendly. The same kind of casual physical contact that people exchange all the time without thinking about it. But before you can even process what's happening, there's a blur of movement behind you, and Jaehyun’s wrist is being yanked away from your head with enough force to make him yelp.

"Hey now," Jungwon's voice says, and it's light, teasing, the same tone he uses when he's joking around. But there's something underneath it, something cold and sharp that you've never heard before. "Let's keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?"

Jaehyun stares at him, his eyes wide. You stare too. Jungwon is smiling, a pleasant, polite smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

"I was just-" Jaehyun starts.

"Just saying hi. I get it." Jungwon's smile doesn't waver. "But here's the thing…you don't touch her hair. That's not something you get to do. Understand?"

Jaehyun nods quickly, and Jungwon releases his wrist, patting him on the shoulder with that same easy, friendly energy.

"Good talk. Enjoy your summer, man."

And then he's turning away, his hand finding your elbow, steering you toward the checkout counter. You catch a glimpse of Jaehyun’s face, confused, slightly alarmed, before you're being dragged down the snack aisle and out of view.

"What the hell was that?" you hiss, yanking your arm free.

"What was what?" Jungwon doesn't look at you. He's studying the ice cream selection like it's the most fascinating thing in the world.

"That! With Jaehyun! You just, you threatened him!"

"I didn't threaten him. I set a boundary. There's a difference."

"You grabbed his wrist!"

"Gently."

"Jungwon." You step in front of him, forcing him to look at you. "What is your deal?"

For a long moment, he doesn't answer. His expression is unreadable, his jaw tight. Then he moves, one step, two, and suddenly you're backing up, your shoulders hitting the cold glass door of the ice cream freezer. He's right there, inches away, his body crowding yours against the door, and you can feel the chill of the glass through your shirt and the heat of him in front of you.

His hand comes up. His fingers slide into your hair. And then he ruffles it,but it's not the casual gesture from before. It's slower. More deliberate. His fingertips trace against your scalp, and the sensation sends a shiver down your spine.

"Don't let other guys touch your hair," he says quietly, and his voice is low and rough and completely, utterly serious. "That's mine."

You stare up at him, your heart hammering, your brain short-circuiting. His face is close, so close you can see the individual strands of his eyelashes, the way his pupils have gone dark and wide. He looks like a completely different person. He looks like someone who wants to devour you.

And then he steps back. "Anyway," he says, and his voice is back to normal, cheerful and light, like nothing at all just happened. "I'm getting melon and chocolate. You want strawberry, right?"

He turns and walks toward the checkout counter, leaving you frozen against the ice cream freezer, your legs weak, your heart racing, your hair still tingling where he touched it.

What. The hell. Was that.

You stay there for a solid thirty seconds, trying to remember how to breathe. The cold from the freezer is seeping through your shirt, and you can hear Jungwon chatting with the cashier like he didn't just press you against a freezer and claim ownership of your hair. Your hair. Like it belongs to him. Like you belong to him.

And the worst part, the absolute, devastating worst part is that some dark, twisted corner of your brain liked it. Liked the way he'd crowded you. Liked the way he'd said mine in that low, possessive voice. Liked the way his fingers had felt in your hair, slow and deliberate and completely unlike anything he'd ever done before.

You push yourself off the freezer door and follow him to the checkout. Jungwon is already paying, his expression serene, his posture relaxed.

"Got your strawberry," he says, holding up the ice cream. "Ready to go?"

You nod mutely.

The walk home is quiet. Jungwon eats his melon ice cream and comments on the weather and points out a funny-shaped cloud, and you walk beside him in a daze, your mind spinning with questions you're too afraid to ask.

*What was that back there?*

*What did you mean by "mine"?*

*Do you want me the way I want you, or was that just some weird protective instinct that you're going to laugh off later and pretend never happened?*

But you don't ask. Because you're scared of the answers. Because if he laughs it off, if he says it was nothing, if he goes back to being the same platonic Jungwon he's always been, you don't think you can handle that.  So you walk in silence, and you eat your strawberry ice cream, and you try very hard not to think about the way his fingers felt in your hair.

The invitation comes on a Thursday, delivered via text message with the casual energy of someone suggesting what to have for lunch.

**Jungwon:** *lake tomorrow? picnic? there's that spot we used to go to as kids. i'll pack food.*

You stare at the message for approximately five minutes. The spot he's talking about is a small, secluded clearing by the lake about twenty minutes outside of town—a hidden gem that you'd discovered together when you were kids. You'd spent entire summers there, swimming until your fingers pruned, eating sandwiches that got slightly soggy from the cooler, lying on the grass and making up stories about the shapes in the clouds.

It's also, objectively, one of the most romantic places in existence. Secluded. Quiet. Surrounded by trees and the gentle lapping of water against the shore. If you were a romance novel protagonist, this would be the chapter where the love interest makes his move.

But you're not a romance novel protagonist.

This is a terrible idea. You should say no.

**You:** *sure. what time?*

The next morning Jungwon picks you up at ten, his car already packed with a cooler, a picnic blanket, and two towels that he definitely stole from his mom's linen closet.

"Ready for adventure?" he asks, holding the passenger door open with an exaggerated flourish.

"Ready for a twenty-minute drive to a lake we've been to literally a hundred times?"

"Every time is a new adventure."

"I’m already tired of you speaking."

"It’s just the beginning."

You roll your eyes and climb into the car, and he closes the door behind you with a satisfied grin. You roll down the window, letting the warm air whip through your hair, and for a moment, everything feels simple. Easy. Like it used to be before your feelings got tangled up in everything. And then Jungwon connects his phone to the car speaker, and a familiar song starts playing.

Lost Island - Enhypen now playing

"Oh my god," you say, recognizing the opening notes. "Is this-"

"Lost Island," he confirms, his grin widening. "Don't pretend you don't know every word."

"I don't know every word."

"You definitely know every word. You made me watch the colour coded lyrics when it came out."

"That was just to see the translation.."

"What about when you made me look at the concept photoshoot of the album?"

"It was for art purposes. I was studying the different concepts."

"You were studying Ni-ki’s pictures for the Afterlight version (iykyk), yeah?"

"Those pictures are a cultural reset."

He laughs, and the sound fills the car, and then he's singing along, loud and off-key and you can't help but join in. You've known this song since it came out. You've listened to it on late-night study sessions, on walks across campus, on the bus ride home from college. You know every lyric, every beat, every ad-lib. And singing it with Jungwon, your voices clashing and harmonizing in all the wrong ways, feels like coming home.

"AND NOTHING’S MORE PRECIOUS THAN TIME? THAN TIME WITH YOU!" he belts, completely butchering the song.

"That's not even close to the right key!"

"It's the right key in my heart!"

"Your heart is tone-deaf!"

The banter carries you the rest of the way to the lake, the familiar landscape scrolling past your window like a slideshow of your childhood. 

"It's exactly the same," you breathe, stepping out of the car.

"Some things don't change," Jungwon says, and there's something in his voice, something almost wistful that makes you glance at him. But he's already turning away, pulling the cooler out of the trunk, his expression back to its usual cheerful neutrality.

Jungwon spreads the blanket on a flat patch of grass near the water's edge, weighting down the corners with rocks so it doesn't blow away in the breeze. He unpacks the cooler very carefully, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a container of cut fruit, two bottles of lemonade, a bag of chips, and a small box of the cookies you used to beg your mom to buy when you were little.

"You remembered the cookies," you say, and your voice comes out more surprised than you intended.

"Of course I remembered. They're your favorite." He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like remembering your favorite childhood cookies is just something people do. "I also brought the chips you like, even though you always eat the entire bag and then complain that you feel sick."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do."

"I will push you into the lake."

"You can try."

After lunch, Jungwon leans back on his elbows, tilting his face toward the sun. "We should swim."

"We didn't bring swimsuits."

"So?"

"So I'm not swimming in my clothes."

"Who said anything about clothes?" He grins at the look on your face. "Kidding. Kind of. You can swim in your t-shirt and underwear. It's basically the same as a swimsuit."

"Underwear is not the same as a swimsuit."

"It's fabric. You wear it. You get wet. Same concept."

"The concept is not the same. There's-" You stop, because he's already pulling his shirt over his head, and the sight of his bare torso short-circuits your brain.

You've seen Jungwon without a shirt before. Plenty of times. Swimming as kids, running through sprinklers, that one disastrous summer when he decided to try to get a six-pack and made you do crunches with him in his backyard. But this is different. He's different. The lean muscle of his shoulders, the planes of his chest, the way his stomach tightens as he tosses the shirt onto the blanket, it's all very, very different.

"See something you like?" he asks, and his tone is teasing, light, completely unaware of the chaos happening inside your brain.

"Just trying to figure out where your tan line starts," you say, your voice blessedly steady. "It's very uneven."

He laughs and wades into the water, his back to you, and you take the opportunity to have a small, internal meltdown. If he doesn't see you as a romantic prospect, then what does it matter if you're in your underwear? It's not like he's going to look at you differently. It's not like anything is going to change.

"Fine," you say, standing up. "But if I get hypothermia, you're explaining it to my mom."

"You're not going to get hypothermia. It's like eighty degrees."

You pull your shirt over your head, shimmy out of your shorts, and are left standing in your underwear, a simple black set that you definitely didn't choose this morning with the vague, subconscious hope that someone might see it. That would be ridiculous.

Jungwon glances back at you, and for just a second, just a fraction of a heartbeat, his eyes flicker down your body. But then he's looking away, splashing into the deeper water, his voice carrying over the lake. "Hurry up! The water's perfect!"

You wade in after him, and the water is cold enough to make you gasp. You push through the discomfort and dive forward, submerging yourself completely, and when you surface, your hair is plastered to your face and you're laughing.

"See?" Jungwon says, swimming toward you. "Not hypothermia."

"Ask me again in ten minutes."

"You'll be fine. You're tough."

You float on your back, staring up at the sky, and Jungwon floats beside you, and for a while, neither of you speaks. It's peaceful. Quiet. The kind of moment you'd want to bottle and keep forever.

And then Jungwon ruins it. "Remember when we used to do this as kids?" he says, his voice dreamy. "You were so small I could carry you around the whole lake."

"I was not that small."

"You were tiny. I could pick you up with one arm."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"It's not a lie. I'll prove it."

Before you can protest, he's moving toward you through the water, his hands finding your waist. You barely have time to yelp before he lifts you, actually *lifts* you, like you weigh nothing and suddenly you're dangling in the water with his hands under your arms, your face level with his.

"See?" he says, and his grin is insufferable. "Still got it."

"That's not, you're using both hands-"

"Details."

The position is ridiculous. You're basically suspended in the water, your legs floating uselessly behind you, his hands wedged firmly under your armpits. But his fingers, his fingers are pressing into the sides of your chest, dangerously close to-

Oh god.

His thumbs are brushing against the curve of your breasts.

You freeze. Every muscle in your body goes rigid. Your face, which was already flushed from the sun, goes approximately forty shades redder. Jungwon doesn't seem to notice, he's still grinning, still holding you up, his fingers still in that exact same position.

"You're so light," he's saying. "Have you been eating enough? Your mom was right, you're like a-"

You don't let him finish. You thrash in his grip, twisting out of his hands with a splash that sends water cascading over both of you. When you surface, gasping, you use the momentum to push a wave directly into his face.

"What was that for?!" he splutters, wiping water from his eyes.

"You were being annoying!"

"I was being helpful!"

"Your hands were-" You stop. You cannot say your hands were on my boobs. You absolutely cannot say that. "You were in my personal space!"

"That's what happens when you carry someone! There's personal space involved!"

"Not that much personal space!"

"You're so weird." But he's laughing, and the moment passes, and he's swimming away from you toward the deeper part of the lake, completely oblivious to the cardiac event he just caused.

You float there for a moment, your heart hammering, your skin tingling everywhere his fingers had touched. He didn't notice. Of course he didn't notice. He was just being Jungwon, playful and physical and completely unaware of the effect he has on you. To him, it was just another childhood game. Just another memory in the long highlight reel of your friendship.

But to you? To you, it was everything.

You take a deep breath and dive underwater, letting the cold silence swallow you whole. When you surface again, you've composed yourself. Your face is still flushed, but you can blame it on the sun. Your heart is still racing, but you can blame it on the swimming.

"You okay over there?" Jungwon calls from the deeper water. "You look like you're thinking too hard."

"I'm always thinking too hard."

"What about?"

About you. About your hands. About the way you said "mine" in the convenience store and then never mentioned it again. About how I'm trying so hard to move on and you keep doing things that make it impossible.

"About how I'm going to get revenge," you say instead, and you launch yourself toward him with a war cry that echoes across the lake.

The splash fight that follows is epic. Water goes everywhere. You end up with lake water in your sinuses and a piece of algae in your hair. Jungwon laughs so hard he accidentally inhales water and spends a full minute coughing on the shore. When you finally drag yourselves out of the lake, shivering and dripping and exhausted, you collapse onto the picnic blanket side by side, staring up at the sky.

The sun is starting its slow descent toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold. Your clothes are spread out on the grass, drying in the warm air, and you're lying in your underwear on a picnic blanket next to your childhood best friend, and somehow it doesn't feel awkward. It feels natural. Easy. Like this is exactly where you're supposed to be.

But as the sky darkens and the first stars appear, you remind yourself: this isn't a romance novel. He doesn't see you that way. And you're trying to move on.

You just wish moving on didn't feel so much like falling.

You're both still damp from the lake, a pleasant chill raising goosebumps on your skin. Jungwon notices you shivering slightly as you sit on the picnic blanket, pulling your knees to your chest.

"You're cold," he says, stating the obvious as he stands up. "Come on, let's get you warmed up."

Before you can protest, he's already pulling you to your feet, his hand warm and firm around yours. He leads you toward a large, flat rock at the edge of the clearing that has been baking in the afternoon sun. It radiates a gentle heat against your bare legs as he positions you to sit on its edge.

But he doesn't sit beside you. Instead, he positions himself directly in front of you, between your legs, his body creating a shield against the evening breeze. The proximity is intoxicating, his bare torso just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, close enough that you could lean forward and press your lips against his if you were brave enough, or stupid enough.

"You need a break," he says, his voice lower than it was moments before, his eyes fixed on yours. "After that epic defeat in the water."

"I didn't lose," you retort, but your voice lacks its usual conviction. You're too aware of his hands as they come to rest on your thighs, his thumbs stroking your skin in slow, deliberate circles. "It was clearly a tie."

"Denial is not just a river in Egypt," he replies, a small smirk playing on his lips. But his eyes... his eyes are serious, intense, focused on yours with an unwavering gaze that makes your breath catch.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your skin, the way his touch sends jolts of electricity through your entire body. You try to focus on the lake, on the sunset, on anything other than the man standing between your legs, looking at you like you're the only person in the world.

But then his hands begin to move.

It's a slow, deliberate journey, his fingers tracing a path along the sensitive skin of your thighs. Higher and higher they go, until they reach the inner curve of your legs. Your breath hitches, your muscles tensing as his fingers continue their exploration, inching ever closer to your most intimate place.

His hands reach the apex of your thighs, his fingers curling around the curve where your legs meet your hips. And then, oh god, his thumb slides inward, the tip of it brushing against the edge of your panties, touching the place where your folds begin through the thin fabric.

A soft gasp escapes your lips, your hips shifting involuntarily. The touch is electric, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. You can feel yourself growing wet, your body responding to his touch with an eagerness that betrays your attempts at nonchalance.

Jungwon's eyes darken, his thumb pressing slightly more firmly against you, a silent acknowledgment of your reaction. The air between you grows thick with tension, charged with unspoken desire. You lean in slightly, your lips parting, your entire being focused on the man before you and the hand that's doing unspeakable things to your composure.

And then he pulls away.

Just like that. As if nothing had happened. "We should probably get back to the blanket," he says, his voice completely normal. "I think there are still some cookies left."

You stare at him, your mind reeling, your body still humming with unfulfilled desire. Is he doing this on purpose? Is this some kind of game to him, a way to provoke you, to test your reactions? Or is he really so clueless that he doesn't realize what he's doing to you, doesn't understand the effect his casual touches have on your body, your mind, your heart?

You slide off the rock, your legs feeling shaky beneath you as you follow him back to the picnic blanket. As you dress, you watch him out of the corner of your eye, searching for some sign, some indication of what's going on in that head of his. But he's whistling softly, sorting through the remnants of your picnic, completely at ease.

And you're left wondering, as you have so many times before, whether the tension between you is real or just another product of your overactive imagination.Or whether, just maybe, he's as confused about this as you are.

Jungwon is lying beside you, propped up on one elbow, his hair still wet and curling slightly at the ends. He's got a cookie in one hand and his phone in the other, scrolling through something with casual ease. His phone buzzes, cutting through your thoughts. Jungwon glances at the screen, and his face breaks into a grin.

"Oh, it's Heeseung," he says, already accepting the video call. "I told him I was at the lake. He said he didn't believe me."

Heeseung. The name is familiar, Jungwon's best friend from college, the one he's mentioned a few times in passing. You've never met him, but you've heard enough stories to piece together a rough picture.

"Jungwon!" A voice crackles through the phone speaker, and Jungwon angles the screen so you can see. The guy on the other end is exactly as advertised, sharp jawline, dark eyes, the kind of face that probably breaks hearts without even trying. He's sitting somewhere indoors, a window behind him letting in soft afternoon light. "You actually went to the lake? I thought you were lying."

"Why would I lie about going to a lake?"

"I don't know. To seem more interesting than you actually are?"

"I'm very interesting."

"You read philosophy books for fun. That's not interesting. That's a cry for help."

You snort, and Heeseung's attention immediately snaps to you. "Who's that? Is someone else there?"

"This is Y/N," Jungwon says, tilting the phone toward you. "My childhood best friend. The one I've told you about."

You wave awkwardly at the camera. "Hi. I'm the one who didn't pour coffee on her own head."

Heeseung laughs, and it's a genuine, surprised laugh. "I like her already. She's got better instincts than me."

"Everyone has better instincts than you," Jungwon says. "You're famously bad at decisions."

"I'm famously bad at some decisions. I'm very good at other ones." Heeseung shifts, and in the background of his video, you catch a glimpse of movement. Someone else is in the room with him, a girl, sitting at a desk, her face partially obscured by a laptop screen. She's got headphones on, completely absorbed in whatever she's doing, and there's a colorful highlighter tucked behind her ear.

"Oh, is that-" Jungwon starts, and something in his voice changes. It's subtle, a slight softening, a slight hesitation, but you notice it immediately. You've spent too many years cataloging every nuance of his expressions not to notice.

"Yeah, that's her," Heeseung says, glancing over his shoulder at the girl. "She's studying. Again. I told her it's summer break, but she said, and I quote, the mitochondria doesn't take vacations."

"That sounds like her," Jungwon says, and there's that tone again. That soft, almost wistful tone that makes your stomach clench.

The girl in the background looks up, as if sensing she's being discussed, and Heeseung waves her over. She removes her headphones with a slightly confused expression, and then she's walking toward the camera, and you get your first clear look at her.

She's pretty. Really pretty, in a natural, unassuming way. Round glasses perched on her nose, her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, wearing an oversized sweater that looks like it's been through several all-night study sessions. There's something about her expression, a little nervous, a little awkward, but also warm and genuine, that makes you understand immediately why someone might fall for her.

"This is Y/N," Heeseung says to her, gesturing at the phone. "Jungwon's friend."

"Hi, Y/N," the girl says, leaning into the frame. Her smile is slightly shy but sincere. "I've heard a lot about you. Jungwon talks about you all the time."

"All good things, I hope?"

"Mostly good things. He mentioned something about a treehouse incident?"

"I'm not taking responsibility for that. That was entirely his fault."

"It was not entirely my fault," Jungwon protests. "You were the one who wanted to add a second story."

"Because you said you wanted a better view of the stars."

"I was being romantic!"

"You were being delusional. The tree couldn't even support one story, let alone two."

The girl laughs, and Heeseung looks at her with an expression so openly, unguardedly fond that it makes something twist in your chest. That's love. That's real, undeniable, completely transparent love. The kind of love that doesn't hide or apologize or pretend to be something else.

"We should let you guys get back to your picnic," Heeseung says. "I just wanted to confirm that the lake does, in fact, exist."

"Confirmed," Jungwon says. "It's still here. Still wet. Still full of fish."

"Excellent. Very informative." Heeseung grins. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"That doesn't leave much."

"Exactly."

The call ends, and the screen goes dark. Jungwon sets his phone down on the blanket and reaches for another cookie, completely oblivious to the storm that's just started brewing in your chest.

That's her. The girl from the philosophy elective. The one Jungwon had a crush on for months. The one he talked about in your kitchen with that soft, distant look in his eyes. The one who ended up with his best friend instead of him. And she's... nice. She seems nice. Genuinely nice, not fake nice, not trying-too-hard nice. The kind of nice that makes it impossible to hate her, even though a small, petty part of you really wants to.

"Jungwon?" you say.

"Hmm?"

"That was her, wasn't it? The girl you liked."

He pauses mid-chew, and for a moment, something flickers across his face, surprise, maybe, or the ghost of an old wound. But then it's gone, replaced by a smile that's a little too casual to be entirely genuine.

"Yeah. That was her."

"She seems nice."

"She is." He swallows the cookie and stares out at the lake, his expression unreadable. "She's really nice. She and Heeseung are good together."

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm okay with that." He says it firmly, like he's practiced the words. Like he's said them to himself enough times that they've started to feel true. "It took a while, but... yeah. I'm okay with it. They make each other happy. That's what matters."

You don't know what to say to that. There's a heaviness in his voice that he's trying to hide, and you know him well enough to recognize it. He's not lying, he really is okay with it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't still sting. That doesn't mean he doesn't still think about it sometimes, late at night, when the world is quiet and the what-ifs creep in.

"I'm going to take a nap," Jungwon announces, stretching out on the blanket and pillowing his head on his arms. "The sun and the swimming made me tired."

"Okay."

"You should nap too. You look tired."

"I look radiant."

"You look radiantly tired."

"That's not a thing."

"It's a thing now. I invented it." He closes his eyes, and within minutes, his breathing evens out. He's asleep. Just like that. 

You sit there for a while, watching him sleep.

We can't be friends - Ariana Grande now playing

It's strange, seeing him like this. Unguarded. Vulnerable. The tension that he carries in his shoulders has melted away, and his face is relaxed in a way it rarely is when he's awake.

Your eyes trace the familiar lines of his face, the curve of his jaw, the sweep of his eyelashes. You know every inch of this face. You've memorized it over fifteen years of glances and gazes and stolen looks. But there's something different about looking at him now. Something heavier. Something that sits in your chest like a stone.

So that's he*, you think. That's the girl who had his heart.

And she's lovely. She's genuinely, painfully lovely. You saw it in the way she smiled, in the way she looked at Heeseung, in the way she clearly has no idea that she was once the center of someone else's entire world. She probably doesn't even know. She probably went about her life, completely unaware that Jungwon spent months pining over her, working up the courage to say something, only to lose his chance because he waited too long.

And that's the thing, isn't it? He waited too long. He liked her and he didn't say anything, and by the time he was ready, it was too late. Someone else had already stepped in. Someone bolder, someone braver, someone who didn't wait.

But he's not like that anymore. You've seen the change in him. The confidence. The ease. The way he carries himself like someone who knows what he wants and isn't afraid to go after it. He told you himself, after that whole situation, he decided to stop waiting. To start living. To explore his youth and put himself out there and not let opportunities pass him by.

She did that. That girl, with her round glasses and her messy ponytail and her complete, oblivious unawareness of the effect she had on him, she changed him. She's the reason he started hooking up with people in college. She's the reason he bought condoms and learned how to kiss properly and became the kind of person who presses other people against freezers and claims ownership of their hair.

You should be grateful to her. In a weird, twisted way, she's the reason Jungwon is who he is now, more confident, more assertive, more willing to go after what he wants. But all you feel is a hot, jealous knot in your stomach that you can't seem to untangle.

What does she have that you don't?

The thought surfaces before you can stop it, ugly and uninvited. You push it down, but it keeps rising back up, persistent and sharp.

What does she have that you don't? You've known Jungwon your entire life. You've been there for every scraped knee, every broken bone, every triumph and every failure. You know the exact way he takes his coffee and the name of every pet he's ever had and the song he listens to when he's sad. You've seen him at his worst and at his best, and you've loved every version of him.

And yet. And yet.

When he talks about her, there's still a softness in his voice. When he looked at her on that video call, there was still a flicker of something, not longing, exactly, but memory. The ghost of a feeling that was once very real. And you've never had that. You've never been the person Jungwon looked at like that. You've never been the person he pined over, the person he wrote letters to, the person he stayed up late thinking about.

You're just Y/N. His childhood best friend. The person he carries around in the lake and ruffles the hair of and tells all his secrets to, but never, ever looks at the way you want him to.

"It's not fair," you whisper, and your voice is so quiet it barely disturbs the air. "What does she have that I don't?"

The question hangs there, unanswered, and the silence that follows is deafening.

You look down at Jungwon, still sleeping peacefully, completely unaware of the turmoil churning inside you. His lips are slightly parted. His chest rises and falls with slow, steady breaths. There's a piece of cookie crumb on his chin that he missed when he wiped his mouth earlier.

You reach out and brush it away, your fingers lingering against his skin for just a moment longer than necessary.

"I've been here the whole time," you murmur. "I've always been here."

He doesn't stir. He doesn't hear you. Maybe that's for the best.

You lean down, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you press a kiss to his cheek. It's soft. Barely there. The kind of kiss that could be dismissed as friendly if anyone saw, but is secretly, desperately not. Your lips brush against the warmth of his skin, and you close your eyes, and for just one moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like if he woke up and looked at you the way Heeseung looked at that girl. Like you were the center of his universe. Like you were the reason he existed.

But he doesn't wake up. And the moment passes.

You pull back, your heart aching, and you lie down beside him on the blanket. The sun is still warm, and the breeze is still gentle, and the lake is still lapping against the shore. Nothing has changed. Everything has changed.

You close your eyes, and you let sleep take you, and the last thing you feel before you drift off is the warmth of his body next to yours, close, but not close enough. Always, always, not close enough.

You wake up to the gentle hum of an engine and the soft pressure of something warm draped over your body.

It takes you a moment to orient yourself. You're not on the picnic blanket anymore. You're not by the lake. You're in a car, Jungwon's car, you recognize the air freshener and the one-eyed bear in the backseat, and someone has covered you with a jacket. Your jacket. The one you'd left in the backseat this morning.

Outside the window, your house is silhouetted against the dusky evening sky. The porch light is on. Your mom's car is in the driveway. Everything is exactly as you left it this morning, and yet nothing feels the same.

You push yourself upright, blinking sleep from your eyes, and that's when you notice Jungwon. He's not in the driver's seat. He's outside the car, leaning against the hood with his arms crossed, staring up at the sky. The first stars are starting to appear, and his profile is illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. He looks pensive. Distant. Like he's been standing there for a while, lost in thoughts he doesn't want to share.

You open the car door, and the sound makes him turn. His expression shifts immediately, the pensiveness replaced by that familiar, warm smile. But there's something tired about it tonight. Something that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he says. "You were out cold. I didn't want to wake you."

"You carried me to the car?"

"You were dead weight. It wasn't that hard."

"I'm average height."

"You're fun-sized."

You roll your eyes, but there's no real irritation behind it. You're too busy processing the fact that he carried you from the lake to the car. That he wrapped you in your jacket and drove you home and then waited outside, in the cooling evening air, just so you could sleep a little longer.

"Thank you," you say, and your voice comes out softer than you intended. "For today. For... all of it."

"It was nothing." He shrugs, but his smile is genuine. "I had fun. It was like old times."

Old times. Right. Because that's what this was to him. Just another memory in the long, unbroken chain of your friendship. Nothing more.

He reaches out and ruffles your hair, the same gesture he's been doing since you were kids, the same casual, affectionate touch that used to feel so natural and now feels like a knife twisting in your chest.

"Get some rest," he says, already turning toward the driver's side. "I'll see you tomor-"

"Wait."

The word escapes before you can stop it. He pauses, his hand on the car door, his head tilted in confusion.

"What's up?"

Your heart is pounding. Your palms are sweating. Every rational part of your brain is screaming at you to let him go, to swallow your feelings, to keep pretending that everything is fine. But you're tired of pretending. You're tired of hiding. You're tired of watching him walk away and wondering what would happen if you just said the words you've been holding back for weeks.

"I need to tell you something," you say, and your voice is steadier than you feel. "And I need you to let me finish before you say anything. Can you do that?"

Jungwon's expression flickers, confusion, concern, something else you can't quite name. But he nods. "Okay. I'm listening."

You take a deep breath. The evening air is cool against your flushed cheeks. The streetlamp buzzes softly overhead. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barks. The world keeps turning, oblivious to the fact that you're about to upend everything.

Earrings - Malcolm Todd now playing

"I like you," you say.

The words hang in the air between you.

"I don't mean like a friend. I don't mean like a brother. I mean... I like you. I have feelings for you. And I've been trying to ignore them, and I've been trying to move on, and I've been telling myself that you don't see me that way and I should just accept it, but I can't. Not anymore. Not after everything that's happened."

Jungwon is completely still. His hand has dropped from the car door. His face is unreadable.

"I know you probably don't feel the same way," you continue, the words tumbling out faster now, a dam that's finally broken. "And that's fine. That's... I mean, it's not fine, but I'll deal with it. I just couldn't keep pretending. I couldn't keep acting like everything was normal when it's not. Not for me."

The silence stretches for what feels like an eternity. When Jungwon finally speaks, his voice is careful. Measured. Like he's choosing every word with deliberate precision.

"Y/N... I think you're confused."

"I'm not confused."

"You've been through a lot lately. The stress of college, being back home, all the changes, it's natural to latch onto familiar feelings and mistake them for something else. But what you're feeling isn't-"

"Don't." Your voice comes out sharper than you intended. "Don't tell me what I'm feeling. I know what I feel. I've known for weeks. Maybe longer. Maybe I've known for years and I just didn't have the words for it until now."

"Y/N-"

"I like you, Jungwon. I want to be with you. Not as your childhood friend. Not as your sister figure. As a woman who wants to be with a man. That's what this is."

He flinches. Actually flinches, like the words have physically struck him. "You don't mean that."

"I do mean it. I've never meant anything more in my life."

"You can't-" He stops, runs a hand through his hair, a gesture of frustration that you've seen a thousand times. "You can't just say that. You can't just drop that on me and expect-"

"Expect what? For you to feel the same way? I already told you, I know you probably don't. But I had to say it. I had to be honest with you, because that's what we've always been. Honest. And I've been lying to you for weeks, and I couldn't do it anymore."

Jungwon is quiet for a long moment. When he speaks again, his voice is low, almost pained. "I can't return your feelings."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You knew they were coming. You prepared for them. But knowing and hearing are two different things, and the sound of them, the finality of them knocks the breath from your lungs.

"I don't see you that way," he continues. "I've never seen you that way. You're my best friend. You're the most important person in my life. But I can't...I don't-"

"You don't see me as a woman."

"I see you as Y/N. My Y/N. The person who's been by my side since I was six years old. And I can't risk that. I can't risk us."

"Risk us?" You hear your voice rising, the hurt transforming into something hotter. Something angrier. "What about the mixed signals? What about the way you held me in the lake? What about the convenience store, when you told that guy not to touch my hair because it was yours? What was that, Jungwon? Was that just friendship too?"

His jaw tightens. "That was different."

"Different how?"

"That was... I don't know. Instinct. I wasn't thinking."

"You weren't thinking." You laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Right. Of course. You never think. You just do things and say things and then pretend they don't mean anything. Just like the closet in high school. Just like my bedroom last week. Just like everything."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" You step closer to him, your eyes blazing. "Let me ask you something. Honestly. Do you still have feelings for her? That girl? The one from the video call?"

Jungwon blinks, clearly thrown by the shift in topic. "What? No. I told you, I'm over that. She's with Heeseung. They're happy. I'm happy for them."

"Then what is it? If you're over her, and you're out there hooking up with other people, then what's so different about me? Why can't you see me the way you see them? Am I not attractive enough? Am I not-"

"Stop." His voice is sharp, sharper than you've ever heard it. "Don't do that. Don't compare yourself to anyone else. This isn't about you not being enough. This is about-"

"About what?"

"About the fact that you're the only thing in my life that's ever been mine!" The words burst out of him like a dam breaking, and suddenly he's not the calm, measured Jungwon anymore. His eyes are bright, his hands shaking slightly at his sides. "Do you understand that? You're it. You're the one thing I've always had. When my parents were fighting, when school was hell, when I was sitting in my dorm room at college feeling like I didn't belong anywhere, I always had you. You were always there. And I can't lose that. I can't."

"So you'd rather keep me as a friend than risk having me as something more?"

"Yes." The word is quiet but firm. "Yes. Because if we tried and it didn't work...if we broke up, if we hurt each other...I wouldn't just lose a girlfriend. I'd lose everything. I'd lose my best friend. I'd lose the person who knows me better than anyone. I'd lose fifteen years of history and memories and-" His voice cracks. "I can't do that. I won't."

"You're a coward," you say, and your voice comes out quieter than you expected. Softer. Almost sad.

Jungwon flinches. "Y/N-"

"No. You are. You're a coward. You've always been a coward. You liked that girl for months and never said anything, and someone else got to her first. And now you're doing the same thing again. You're so scared of losing what we have that you won't even consider the possibility of something more." You swallow hard, the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You said you changed. You said after that whole situation, you decided to stop waiting and start living. But you haven't changed at all. You're still the same guy who waits too long and lets things slip away because he's too scared to take a risk."

"Please," he says, and his voice is raw, desperate. "Please don't do this. We can still be friends. We can go back to how things were. Nothing has to change."

"I don't want to be friends!" The words tear out of you, loud and broken. "That's the whole point! I don't want to be your friend anymore! I want to be more! I want you to look at me the way you looked at her! I want you to touch me like you mean it and not pretend it was nothing afterward! I want to be the person you think about when you can't sleep at night! But I'm not! I'm never going to be! Because you won't let me!"

Tears are streaming down your face now, hot and unstoppable. You don't bother wiping them away.

"I have been here," you say, your voice cracking. "I have been here for fifteen years. I was here when you failed your first math test. I was here when you got your heart broken for the first time. I was here when you needed someone to talk to at 3 AM. And I've been here this whole summer, watching you, wanting you, and you didn't even notice. You never notice."

Jungwon's face crumples. "I notice," he whispers. "I notice everything about you. That's the problem."

"Then what is it?" You step closer, your chest tight with frustration and hurt and the desperate need to understand. "You've been giving me mixed signals since I got back. The way you look at me. The way you touch me. The convenience store. The lake. Carrying me around in the water with your hands all over me. What am I supposed to think?"

"I wasn't...I didn't mean to..."

"Didn't mean to what? Lead me on? Make me think there was something there when there wasn't?"

Jungwon's face crumples, and for the first time in this conversation, he looks genuinely stricken. "I wasn't trying to lead you on. I was just... being myself. That's how I've always been with you."

"Maybe that's the problem." Your voice cracks, and you hate it. You hate that he's seeing you like this. "Maybe you've always been like this with me, and I've just been too blind to notice that it doesn't mean anything to you. But it means something to me. It means everything to me."

"Y/N..."

"You know what I hate the most?" You're crying, tears spilling down your cheeks, hot and uninvited. "I hate her. That girl from the video call. I hate her so much it makes me sick."

"That's not fair. She didn't do anything-"

"I know she didn't do anything! That's what makes it worse!" The words are pouring out of you now, unstoppable. "She didn't do anything except exist, and she still managed to change you. She's the reason you're like this now. She's the reason you decided to stop waiting and start living. She's the reason you bought condoms and hooked up with people and became this whole new version of yourself. And I...I've been here the whole time. I've been here for fifteen years, and I've never been able to make you look at me the way you looked at her."

"Y/N, please-"

"You've known her for what, a few months? And she got to have your heart. She got to be the one who changed you. And I've been here since we were kids, and I've never...I've never been anything more than your best friend.. The person you carry around and ruffle the hair of and tell all your secrets to, but never, ever look at the way I want you to."

The tears are falling faster now, and you can barely see his face through the blur. You wipe at your eyes furiously, angry at yourself for crying, angry at him for making you cry, angry at the whole stupid universe for putting you in this situation.

"I've always been here," you whisper. "I've always been yours. And you've never once seen me."

Jungwon's composure cracks. His eyes are wet, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides like he's trying very hard to hold himself together and failing. When he speaks, his voice is raw in a way you've never heard before.

"You asked what she had that you don't? Nothing. She had nothing that you don't. But she was safe. She was someone I could have a crush on from a distance and then let go when it didn't work out. But you...you're not safe. You're not distant. You're under my skin and in my bones and wrapped around every part of who I am. And if I let myself feel what I'm afraid I might feel for you, and it goes wrong..."

He stops, his voice breaking. A tear slips down his cheek, and he doesn't bother to wipe it away.

"I can't lose you," he says quietly. "I would rather have you as a friend for the rest of my life than risk losing you entirely."

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The street is quiet. The stars are starting to come out. And then you shake your head.

"We can figure this out. We can-"

"No. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to reject me and then ask me to stay exactly the same. That's not fair."

"Please." His voice cracks, and he reaches for your hand. "Please don't do this. You're too important to me. Our friendship is too important."

"Goodnight, Jungwon," you say.

"Y/N, wait-"

But you're already walking away. Already climbing the steps to your front porch. Already reaching for the door handle with hands that won't stop shaking.

You don't look back. You can't. If you look back, you'll break completely.

The front door closes behind you with a soft click, and you lean against it, pressing your palms to your face, and you let the tears come. All the tears you've been holding back for weeks. All the feelings you've been pretending not to have. They pour out of you in great, heaving sobs that shake your entire body.

You understand. God help you, you understand. He's scared. He's been scared his whole life, scared of losing people, scared of taking risks, scared of wanting something too much and having it slip through his fingers. He looks at you and sees everything he's afraid to lose, and instead of reaching for more, he's clinging to what he already has.

But understanding doesn't make it hurt less. Understanding doesn't fill the hollow ache in your chest or stop the tears from falling or make you forget the way his face looked when you walked away.

You don't know how long you sit there. The house stays quiet. The stars wheel overhead. And somewhere out there, on the street in front of your house, Jungwon is still standing by his car, staring at the door you just closed, hoping you'll come back out.

But you don't. And eventually, he leaves.

[jungwonisme]

I REGRET PROCRASTINATE TO READ THIS😭😭😭😭😭😭 THIS IS ACTUALLY SO FUCKING GOOD WTFFF I NEED PART 2 ASAP PLSSKALSKSKSK

[missyangkim]

-JUNGWON AUDIO

warning!nsfw

MDNI!! unless you want to, your choice ig

sucking jungwon off while he finger blasts you calling you mommy

missyangkim’s note: audio found off twitter<3 ALSO SRRY IM FIVE DAYS LATE TT

[matzism]

──── PILLOWTALK .ᐟ

thinking about… pussydrunk!won & his addiction with being in between your thighs┊custom order 📋

warnings. . . explicit sexual content (mdni) ﹕ oral fixation ﹕ face sitting ﹕ cum eating ﹕ masturbation ﹕ (not proofread !)

order notes: playing re9 and im so close to kms… capcom just throw anything together to make these creatures bro

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who became addicted after his first taste of you. he could never get enough. he loves your sweet moans and the way his name slips from your mouth like a prayer whenever you are about to cum.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who wakes you up with his face between your thighs, chin already drenched in your arousal. he’d hum whenever you were fully awake, already slipping two fingers inside, curling them just right while he devoured you.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who loves when you grip his hair whenever it’s too much. he’d be on his knees at the edge of the bed, desperately fisting his cock every time you tugged his head closer.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who drinks every drop eagerly like a starved man, groaning against your pussy, the vibration shooting through your core.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who literally begs you to sit on his face. the mere sight of you straddling him, grinding your hips down every time you wanted more, drives him insane.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who does it for his own pleasure. he’d lick and kiss your pussy for what felt like hours, making sure you were satisfied, all while he leaked through his sweats.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who likes to pour wine on your breasts, thighs, then right above your pussy. he’d lick up every drop, refusing to waste anything.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who tends to forget to breathe properly while eating you, hooked on the taste. he’d come up for air, breathing ragged, chin glistening with strings of your slick connecting from his mouth before diving back in.

꒰ྀི pussydrunk!won ꒱ྀི who keeps going even after you cum. he keeps licking you through it, savoring the way your hips twitch—not planning to stop until you’re crying and pushing his head away.

[404sheepnotfound]

Baby, That's Mine - Yang Jungwon

PART II

୨ৎ Summary : Two people. One bar. One really, really bad night to be alone. Y/n just caught her fiancé of two years in bed with her best friend. Jungwon just found out his girlfriend of six years has been cheating for god knows how long. Neither of them planned on ending up in a hotel room with a stranger — they just both really, really didn't want to be alone that night. No names. No numbers. Just two broken people borrowing comfort from each other for one night, then going their separate ways like it never happened. Except a month later, y/n's staring at two pink lines on a bathroom floor, and there's only one person it could possibly be. She makes her choice fast, she's keeping the baby, and she's doing it alone. no ring, no husband, no one's permission required. So she books her first prenatal appointment at some random clinic near campus, ready to start this chapter solo like she planned—and her doctor walks in. It's him. Yang Jungwon.

୨ৎ Pairing : obgyn! Jungwon x college lecturer! reader

୨ৎ Wordcount : 10k

୨ৎ Warning : ANGST (i warned you) , aged-up Jungwon (he's 28 here), stranger to.... (still figuring out but there's something promising chat), one night stand, unprotected sex, cheating (not Jungwon or y/n), unprotected sex (BIG NO NO, PLEASE WRAP YOUR WILLY), pregnancy.

୨ৎ Song : Maroon 5 - MAPS

PART I

So, I'm following the map that leads to you

You’d both silently decided the bar didn’t count. It belonged to some emergency exit version of yourself, the one who shows up when everything falls apart and then sensibly disappears by morning. Two strangers, one terrible night, and then back to real life, like it never happened. That was supposed to be the whole story.

For weeks you’d told yourself he didn’t exist. No last name, no number, just a blurry memory getting less real by the day. And then there he was. Not imaginary, not gone, just three feet away in a room that smelled like antiseptic instead of whisky, looking at you like he was doing the same impossible math you were.

It still didn’t add up.

You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. The chart in his hand had gone slack, like whatever clinical purpose it once held had dissolved the second recognition hit his face. You watched him swallow. Watched his jaw work, like he was searching for some professional footing and coming up with nothing.

You weren’t doing any better. Your pulse was in your throat, your fingertips, that strange hollow drop in your stomach that had nothing to do with the pregnancy and everything to do with him. A month of telling yourself this was impossible, and here it was anyway, undoing every careful assumption you’d built your new life on.

When he finally spoke, the composure was gone from his voice. He took a slow breath, like he needed it just to stay upright.

“Is the baby mine?”

This time it was quieter. Just him, stripped back down to the same person who’d sat beside you in that bar a month ago, asking a question he already knew the answer to but needed to hear anyway, like saying it out loud might keep the ground steady under him.

You closed your eyes for a moment. “Yes,” you said. The word barely made it past your throat, smaller than you meant it to be.

He didn’t say anything right away. When you opened your eyes, he was still watching you, something delicate moving behind his expression. Not quite fear, not quite relief, but some confused tangle of both, like a man standing at the edge of a life he hadn’t planned for and couldn’t make himself walk away from.

“Okay,” he said, so quietly the hum of the lights above almost swallowed it.

You recognised that it was precisely the same word you had muttered to your bathroom mirror a month prior. You both had no idea how much that one tiny syllable was going to demand of you.

For a brief moment, his hands just hovered in the space where the chart had been, uncertain, as if every professional instinct he had spent years honing had suddenly stopped responding. He set the chart down hard enough that it slid slightly across the counter.

“I can’t examine you.” What remained sounded jagged and unsteady. 

“What?” 

“Conflict of interest.” He said it like the words hurt on the way out.

You went very still. You already knew. You’d known before he said it, really, but hearing it made it land differently.

He ran a hand through his hair, and for the first time, you saw his composure completely crumble. It was not the cautious, contained way it had earlier cracked, but rather clearly and painfully, as if he were witnessing the disintegration of every assurance he had relied upon throughout his adult life.

"I don't know what to do," he said in a rough voice.

You just stared at him for a second. Then something inside you quietly folded in on itself. 

Sure. 

Why did you expect anything else?

You’d told yourself you didn’t need to know the father. You’d cried over the impossibility of it before it was even real, before there was anything to be impossible about. You’d accepted that you’d raise this child alone, because that was just how it was going to be. Strangers didn’t become families. One extraordinary night didn’t rewrite an ordinary life

You'd come to terms with it. Or at least you thought you did. But here he stood now, and he saw the doubt in his face, and that studied acceptance began to crack. Not because he actually rejected you, but because your heart already decided what his hesitation meant.

"Right," you said, speaking in a more flattering tone than you meant to, and you were already grabbing the armour you had developed over the previous month. "There is nothing for you to figure out. I told you that I had nothing to ask of you.”

He scowled.

"What?"

"I said there's nothing for you to figure out."

You could no longer bring yourself to look at him. Rather, you occupied yourself with smoothing out imperceptible wrinkles on the paper that was spread out on your lap.

"I wasn't looking for you." You took a swallow. "I wasn't trying to find you."

The words had a false flavour. Everything was different. Saying it out loud hurt more than you expected. You hated that some part of you had already filed Jungwon under the same heading, hated how quickly and completely your body had braced for the same ending, as though you had never once been given a reason to expect anything else from anyone.

Jungwon was watching you. He'd seen patients recoil before. The woman who had stopped crying because she had made up her mind it was no good. The overly polite husband after receiving a terminal diagnosis. The parents who resorted to talking about parking validation because to face reality would destroy them. Some people didn't fall apart loudly. Sometimes they were unbearably controlled. That's what you were doing.

“You think I’m trying to go?"

The sentence slipped out before he'd fully decided to say it. Your fingers paused. For the first time since you'd looked away, you met his eyes.

The words hit home visibly. You saw something flicker behind his eyes, not defensiveness, something more like recognition, as though he knew precisely which wound he'd just stepped on without meaning to. You didn't expect that from him. This wasn't something he had asked for. Even if he wanted nothing to do with you or the baby, you told yourself that made sense. 

The bar surfaced again, whether you wanted it to or not. That ring around your glass. The way you’d kept twisting it on your finger instead of just taking it off, because taking it off would have made it final in a way you weren’t ready for. You remembered what you’d said that night, loose enough with drink to be honest, past caring who might overhear.

"I think he stopped choosing me long before he ever said it out loud.”

You looked away first this time, blinking hard at the poster on the wall, the one you'd deliberately avoided studying earlier. Your throat had gone tight enough that breathing normally took actual effort. You pressed your lips together, willing yourself to hold it. 

That did not work.

One single tear escaped before you could stop it. Hot and humiliating, sliding down your cheek at the worst possible moment, in front of the worst possible person. You wiped it away quickly, angry at your body for betraying you in this way.

“I have to go,” you said, your voice cracking halfway through the sentence. You slid off the exam table too quickly, the paper crinkling loudly in the small room, and reached for the door before you could change your mind, before you could let yourself fall apart any further in front of him.

You didn’t get far. His fingers wrapped loosely around your wrist, warm, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure he had any right to hold on but couldn’t quite make himself let go either. Just enough to stop you. You went cold.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Please. Don’t walk out like this.”

“I—” Your voice gave out completely, and the tears came without permission.

His hand hovered between the chart, the exam table, and finally settled against his own chest.

"You don't have to say anything," you continued, quieter now, the bitterness folding into something more tired than sharp. "I wasn't going to ask you for anything. I didn't come here looking for you." 

He opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he'd been about to say didn't survive that.

"I'll get someone else to take my file," you said, before he could. "You don't have to be involved in any of it. Really. It'll be easier that way. For both of us."

"That's not what I want," he said quietly.

"You don't know what you want yet," you said, not unkindly, just certain. "That's okay. You don't have to. I stopped expecting anyone to figure that out on my timeline a long time ago."

You picked up your bag from the chair, not looking at him now, because looking at him made it harder to keep the walls up, and the walls were the only thing keeping you standing.

"I can manage this myself," you said, quieter. "I've been managing everything myself. This isn't any different."

He didn't say anything as you walked past him, though you felt his eyes on you the whole way to the door, uncertain and unresolved in a way that you told yourself, firmly, was not your problem to fix.

The hallway outside the exam room felt longer than it had on the way in.

You kept your eyes forward, one foot in front of the other, the way you'd taught yourself to walk out of rooms that had just quietly ended something. It would've been easier if he'd been cruel about it. If he'd looked at you the way you'd braced yourself for. 

But he hadn't been cruel. He'd looked lost. Standing there in his white coat with a stethoscope around his neck and no idea what to do with his own hands. And somehow that was worse. Because lost meant he hadn't decided yet. Lost meant there was still a version of this where he tried, and failed, and you had to watch it happen up close instead of guessing at it from a distance. 

You couldn't do that again. You didn't have it in you to hope for something and then watch it quietly dissolve a second time in the same year. So you'd decided for him before he could make it for himself. It felt almost merciful, in a strange, aching way. If you didn't let yourself need him, there was nothing left for him to take away. 

You didn't need him. You'd meant that.

But walking away from a room where someone had, for one brief second, looked like he might actually want to stay. That took more out of you than you let yourself admit. Because some small, foolish part of you, had wanted to be wrong about him. Just once, for someone to prove your worst assumptions weren't the safest bet.

You got in your car, hands steady on the wheel the way they'd been steady the night everything else fell apart, and you didn't cry until you were three streets away, safely out of sight of anyone who might feel obligated to ask if you were alright. 

.

.

.

Jungwon didn't move for a long moment after the door clicked shut.

The room felt too quiet without you in it. He was still holding a pen he didn't remember picking up, and when he looked down at his own hand, it took a second longer than it should have for the object to register as familiar.

A baby.

The word sat in his chest like something he'd swallowed wrong, lodged and unmoving. He'd delivered dozens of them. He knew what the next nine months would look like on a chart. He did not know what it meant that one of them might have his name attached to it.

He sat down heavily on the stool you'd left empty, the vinyl still faintly warm, and stared at the door like it might open again and make the last ten minutes make sense. It didn't.

He realised, that he didn't even know your first name. Not really, he'd seen it on the chart, glanced at it in that first frozen second before recognition hit, but it hadn't stuck, buried under everything else crashing through him at once. He didn't know where you lived. What you did for a living, though, something about you had felt like you spent your days around people who needed patience. He remembered that much from the bar, vaguely, the way you remember the shape of a feeling more than the words that caused it. He didn't know if you had family nearby. Friends. Anyone who'd sit with you through this the way he clearly wasn't being let anywhere near it.

He didn't know a single real thing about the woman who had just told him, flatly, that she was carrying his child and didn't expect anything from him because of it. That last part kept snagging on something in his chest, sharp and unpleasant, like a wire he kept running his thumb over without meaning to.

He didn't know what that meant, not exactly, but he knew enough to recognize the shape of it. The practiced ease of someone who'd said some version of that sentence before, to someone else, about something else. You hadn't sounded angry when you said it. That was the part that unsettled him most. Angry, he could have argued with. Anger gave him something to push against. But you'd sounded certain, the way people sound when they've simply stopped being surprised by disappointment, when they've built their whole footing around expecting less so the ground never has anywhere lower left to drop.

A knock at the door pulled him upright before he could sit with it any longer. Nurse Park leaned her head in, brow raised at the empty room, the abandoned chart, him sitting there like he'd forgotten how exam rooms worked.

"Dr. Yang? Your two o'clock is—"

"I need you to reassign a patient," he said, before she could finish. His voice came out steadier than he felt, which surprised him almost as much as everything else today had. "Transfer her file to Dr. Kim. Today, if you can."

Nurse Park's brow rose further, curiosity plain on her face, but she didn't ask. That was one mercy, at least. "Sure. Everything okay?"

"Fine," he said, too quickly. "Just a conflict of interest."

She left it at that, ducking back out, and he was alone again with the abandoned chart and the too quiet room and the sound of his own pulse suddenly very loud in his ears.

He didn't go find you. He told himself it was because you'd asked him not to, because chasing you down the hallway would have looked exactly like the kind of scene neither of you needed in a hospital full of patients. He told himself a lot of things in the next several minutes, none of which made the unease in his chest sit any easier.

He didn't know you. You'd made that painfully, deliberately clear, like it was a wall you needed built between the two of you before either of you said something you couldn't walk back. But you were going to have his child. And he was going to spend the rest of the day, and probably several after it, turning over the unbearable fact that a woman whose last name he'd only just learned had already decided, quietly and completely, that he wasn't someone worth hoping for.

He picked the pen back up. Set it back down.

Somewhere down the hall, his next patient was waiting, and he had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to walk in there and be anyone's calm, steady doctor when his own life had just come apart at a seam he hadn't known was there.

.

.

.

.

Three days.

That was all it had been since you walked out of that exam room, and already your body seemed determined to make you regret every ounce of composure you'd held onto in front of him. It was as if some cruel switch had been flipped the moment you'd said the word yes out loud, made it real to someone other than yourself. Like your body had been waiting for a witness.

You woke Wednesday morning already nauseous, the ceiling swimming faintly overhead before you'd even tried to sit up. You'd read that morning sickness typically started later, that this was early even by the worst case scenario timelines, but apparently your pregnancy hadn't read the same pamphlets you had.

By the time you managed to get upright, the room tilted sharply enough that you had to grip the headboard and breathe through it, slow and deliberate, before attempting the short, treacherous walk to the bathroom.

You didn't make it in time to feel dignified about it. Afterward, you sat on the bathroom floor with your back against the cold tub, forehead damp, waiting for your stomach to stop staging its rebellion. This was becoming routine faster than you wanted to admit. Not once, but twice already this week you'd called your department to push back your morning lecture, voice pitched carefully steady, blaming a stomach bug going around campus. You'd never missed lectures before. Not once. It unsettled you more than you let yourself dwell on.

The apartment was silent except for the tap still running in the sink. No one to hand you water. No one to notice you'd barely eaten since yesterday, that the crackers on your nightstand had gone untouched because even the smell of them turned your stomach some hours. You'd gotten good at being invisible to everyone, including yourself.

You didn't know if this was normal. You didn't know if you should be worried, if this level of sick warranted a call to whoever your new doctor was going to be, or if this was simply what your body intended to do to you for the better part of the coming months. You had no one to ask. No one who'd sit on the edge of your bed and tell you this part was supposed to be hard, that it would pass, that you weren't failing at this before it had even really begun.

You  pulled yourself back onto your feet using the edge of the sink, rinsed your mouth, and studied your reflection for a moment. Pale, hollow around the eyes, nothing like the woman who used to stand in front of a lecture hall like she had her whole life figured out.

"You're fine," you told her, quietly, the way you'd told yourself countless small lies over the past month that had somehow, collectively, kept you upright. "You've done harder than this alone."

You believed it most days. Today, curled back into bed twenty minutes later with a bucket close enough to reach without standing, the blanket pulled up to your chin against a chill that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room, you weren't entirely sure you believed it at all.

But there was no one there to notice the difference. So you closed your eyes, and let the silence hold you instead, and waited, the way you always did, for the worst of it to pass on its own.

You should have called in sick. You knew that the moment you stepped out of the car, the parking lot tilting faintly at the edges in a way that had nothing to do with the morning sun.

But you'd already missed two lectures this week, and a third would mean questions you didn't have answers for, sympathetic looks from your department head that you didn't think you could survive without your composure cracking down the middle. So you'd taken two crackers and a sip of ginger tea you couldn't taste, told yourself you'd manage, and gone in anyway.

You almost did.

The lecture hall was half full, forty some students scattered across the tiered seats, laptops open, the low hum of a Thursday morning. You'd made it through the attendance. Through the first ten minutes on developmental milestones in early childhood, your voice steady even as your stomach had begun its slow, familiar climb somewhere around slide four.

You kept going. 

"—and by eighteen months, most children can typically identify two to three body parts when asked, which becomes important later when we discuss—"

The room tilted.

The front row of desks sliding sideways in your vision like the whole hall had been picked up and set back down at a slight angle. You gripped the edge of the podium, hard, waiting for it to right itself the way it usually did if you just breathed through it, counted to ten, kept your face neutral.

It didn't right itself. Cold sweat prickled along your hairline. Your vision narrowed at the edges, the way it did right before things went dark, a sensation you recognized now with a distant, clinical horror even as your body refused to respond to anything you told it to do. You heard your own voice trail off mid sentence. You saw, as if from very far away, several students look up from their laptops.

"Professor?"

You tried to say I'm fine. Give me a second. The words didn't make it out. The podium seemed to tilt away from your hand, or your hand slid off it, you couldn't tell which, and the last clear thought you had was a strange, absurd flicker of worry that you were about to fall in front of forty students and there'd be no graceful way to explain any of this afterward.

Then the floor came up to meet you, and everything went white, then gray, then nothing at all.

You came back to fluorescent light and unfamiliar voices, the particular antiseptic smell that your body had apparently decided to associate with catastrophe now. Someone's hand was wrapped around your wrist, fingers pressed lightly, counting.

"Ma'am? Can you hear me?"

You blinked, the ceiling swimming into slow focus, a stranger's face hovering above you, kind and unfamiliar. Not him. You didn't know why some small, useless part of you had braced for it to be him.

"You fainted," the nurse said gently, once she saw your eyes track her properly. "You're in the ER. One of your students called it in. You went down pretty hard in the middle of a lecture."

Fainted. In front of your entire class. You closed your eyes again, mortification arriving even before you'd fully processed the rest of it, a hot wave of embarrassment layering itself over the nausea that hadn't actually gone anywhere.

"I'm fine," you said, or tried to. Your voice came out cracked, thinner than you meant it to. "I just need to go home. I have another class at—"

"You're not teaching anything today," the nurse said, not unkindly, but with the particular firmness of someone who dealt with stubborn patients for a living. "You're pregnant and dehydrated and you haven't been keeping food down. We're keeping you a few hours at least, getting fluids into you."

There was someone whose opinion mattered now, whether you liked it or not, and he worked three floors up in this exact building. 

A resident you didn't recognize came by twenty minutes later to check your IV line, young, unfamiliar, entirely uninterested in anything beyond your vitals and your chart. You almost laughed at the relief that gave you. 

By the time they discharged you late that afternoon, an IV bruise blooming faintly on the inside of your elbow, a stack of printed pamphlets about hyperemesis gravidarum tucked under your arm.  You called a cab instead of your own car, since you didn't trust your hands on a wheel yet, and sat in the back seat with your forehead against the cool window, watching the hospital shrink behind you. 

You told yourself that was fine. You told yourself that a lot, lately. It didn't make the ride home feel any less quiet.

The cab dropped you off just as the sky was starting to dim, and by the time you'd climbed the two flights of stairs to your apartment. The elevator was broken again, of course it was. Your legs were shaking badly enough that you had to stop twice, palm flat against the wall, waiting for the stairwell to stop tilting.

You made it inside. You didn't make it much further than that. The pamphlets slid out of your grip and scattered across the entryway floor as your knees gave out, not dramatically, just a slow, graceless folding, your back sliding down the front door until you were sitting on the cold tile with your knees drawn up and your whole body trembling like something had come loose inside it.

The nausea came back within the hour, worse than it had been that morning, worse than it had been at all this week. It didn't announce itself gently. It arrived in one violent lurch that had you crawling toward the bathroom, not trusting your legs to carry you upright.

You didn't make it to the toilet in time. You barely made it to the bathroom at all, retching over the edge of the tub instead, your whole body seizing with the force of it long after there was anything left to bring up, dry, wrenching heaves that left your ribs aching and your throat raw and scraped, tears streaming down your face less from sadness than from the sheer physical violence of it.

You stayed like that for a long time, forehead pressed against the cool porcelain, saliva and bile stringing from your lips, your hands braced shaking against the tub's edge. Your stomach cramped hard, a deep muscular ache that radiated up into your ribs and down into your pelvis, and for one sharp, terrified second you pressed a hand low against your abdomen, holding your breath, waiting to feel something wrong.

Nothing. No blood. No new pain beyond the exhaustion of your body trying to turn itself inside out. You allowed yourself a single shuddering breath of relief before the next wave hit and you were retching again, nothing left to give it, just your body insisting anyway.

By the time it finally, mercifully passed, you were slumped sideways against the bathtub, cheek against cold tile, drenched in a cold sweat that had soaked through your shirt. Your pulse fluttered too fast and too thin at your wrist when you pressed two fingers there, checking, the way you'd learned to over the past week. Your mouth tasted of bile and copper. Your lips had gone dry and cracked at the corners.

You should call someone. The thought arrived distantly, muted, the way thoughts did when your body had spent everything it had. You'd just been hospitalized for exactly this, hours ago, and here you were on your bathroom floor doing it again, alone, with no one so much as aware it was happening.

Your hand found your phone in your pocket, more out of habit than intention. The screen lit the dim bathroom, too bright, and you had to squint against it. You didn't call anyone. You didn't have the strength to hold the phone to your ear, let alone explain, let alone hear the worry in someone's voice and have to manage that too, on top of everything else.

You set the phone down on the tile beside you instead, and simply lay there, curled loosely on your side, waiting for enough strength to return to your limbs that you could drag yourself the six feet to your own bed.

It took nearly twenty minutes. You slept in your clothes that night, on top of the covers instead of under them, too exhausted to manage even that small effort, a glass of water you couldn't bring yourself to drink from sitting untouched on the nightstand, condensation sliding slowly down its side in the dark, and no one in the world aware that you'd spent your evening on a bathroom floor, alone, quietly and privately falling apart.

.

.

.

.

Karina almost didn't come by that morning.

She'd meant to call first, the way she usually did, but you hadn't answered your last two texts, and something about the silence. Three days of it now, uncharacteristic even for you at your most withdrawn, had sat wrong in her chest all week. She'd told herself she was being paranoid. She came anyway.

She still had the spare key, back when you'd both lived two buildings apart and traded keys the way close friends did. She let herself in calling your name, expecting to find you buried in lesson planning, embarrassed to have worried.

She found you on the bedroom floor instead, half collapsed beside the bed like you'd tried to stand and simply hadn't made it, your skin gray pale, lips cracked, one hand still curled weakly against the carpet like you'd been reaching for something.

"Oh my god— hey. Hey!" Karina dropped to her knees beside you, hands shaking as she checked for breath, for pulse, for anything. You stirred faintly at her voice, eyes fluttering half open, unfocused. "Stay with me, okay? I'm calling an ambulance."

"I'm fine," you managed, barely a whisper, the words slurring together. "Just need—"

"You are not fine." Her voice cracked, fear bleeding through the command in it as she fumbled her phone out of her pocket, thumb shaking too hard to hit the numbers cleanly the first time. "You look like you're about to die on your bedroom floor, so don't you dare tell me you're fine."

She got the address out between breaths she didn't remember taking, one hand still gripping yours the entire time, too tight, like letting go might mean losing you to whatever this was.

She rode in the ambulance with you, refusing to be left behind when a paramedic suggested she follow in her own car. She sat in the hospital waiting room for forty five minutes that felt like four hours, knee bouncing, phone clutched uselessly in her lap because she didn't know who else to call, didn't know if there was anyone else to call, and that realization alone made something in her chest ache almost as much as the fear did.

When a nurse finally came to update her, Karina was on her feet before the woman had finished her sentence.

"Family?" the nurse asked, glancing at her chart.

"Might as well be," Karina said, voice tight. "She doesn't have anyone else listed, does she."

The nurse's hesitation was answer enough.

"She's stable," the nurse said instead, gently. "Severe dehydration, malnutrition. She's been dealing with hyperemesis, it looks like, and it seems like she's been managing it alone for weeks. We're keeping her a few days to get her properly stabilized."

Karina pressed a hand over her mouth, equal parts relief and fury rising in her chest. Relief that you were breathing, steady, alive, and fury that you'd let it get this bad without telling a single soul, without telling her, after everything the two of you had been through together.

She sat by your bed for the rest of that afternoon, watching the slow rise and fall of your chest, IV fluid dripping steadily into the back of your hand, and made a silent, furious promise that the moment you were lucid enough to argue with her, she was going to give you an earful about doing this alone.

You stirred sometime near evening, eyes fluttering open slowly, disoriented, focusing first on the ceiling and then, gradually, on her.

"Karina?" Your voice came out cracked, confused.

"Yeah." She leaned forward, gripping your hand, blinking back tears she refused to let fall in front of you. "Yeah, it's me. You scared the absolute hell out of me."

You blinked at her, at the IV in your hand, at the hospital room slowly coming into focus around you, and something in your face crumpled, the exhausted collapse of someone who'd been holding a wall up for too long and had finally, involuntarily, let it fall.

"I didn't want to bother anyone," you whispered.

"You're pregnant and you were dying on your bedroom floor," Karina said, voice thick, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "I don't care how much you didn't want to bother me. You're stuck with me now. No more doing this by yourself."

You didn't have the strength to argue. For once, some small, exhausted part of you was almost grateful you didn't have to.

.

.

.

.

Jungwon told himself it would fade. That was the whole premise he'd been operating on for two and a half weeks now. That time would do what time was supposed to do, sand the edges off something sharp until it became just another fact of his life instead of the thing that occupied every quiet moment he wasn't actively filling with something else.

It hadn't worked. He caught himself doing it again during a lull between patients, staring at a blank spot on the wall of the break room, coffee going cold in his hand, his mind somewhere else entirely. 

He'd requested her file be transferred to Dr. Kim, exactly as he'd promised. He hadn't looked at it since. He told himself that was the responsible thing to do. He told himself that every time his hand hovered a half second too long over the patient database before he made himself close it, unopened.

He didn't know if she'd made it to her next appointment, if the nausea she'd looked faintly gray with even standing in that exam room had gotten better or worse, if she was eating, sleeping, managing any of it the way she'd insisted, with such brittle certainty, that she would.

He hated that he thought about it as much as he did. Hated it, and couldn't stop. 

“You've been doing it for weeks." Sunoo took a sip, watching him over the rim of the cup. "Still thinking about the peach dream? Told you it meant something."

"It's nothing," Jungwon said, too quickly, and made himself take a sip of his own coffee just to have something to do with his mouth besides say anything further. "Just tired. Long week."

"It's been a long week for three weeks running, then." Sunoo didn't look convinced, but he let it sit for a moment, watching him with the kind of patience that usually meant he was waiting for a crack to widen on its own rather than trying to force one. "You'd tell me if something was actually going on, right?"

"There's nothing going on." The lie came easier than Jungwon expected it to, flat and practiced, though it sat wrong in his chest the second it left his mouth. "I'm fine."

Sunoo studied him a beat longer, clearly unconvinced, but he shrugged eventually and let it go, the way he usually did when Jungwon's tone made it clear a door had been shut. "Alright. Suit yourself."

The conversation moved on to something else and he was grateful for it, grateful that Sunoo hadn't pushed harder, because he didn't know what he would have said if he had. There wasn't a version of the truth he could hand over that didn't sound absurd out loud. 

He didn't know how to explain that he'd meant to let it go, and instead had spent nearly three weeks failing to stop thinking about a woman whose last name he'd had to read off a chart to remember, whose entire life outside of that one night and that one appointment remained a complete blank to him.

He didn't know how to explain, least of all to himself, why some part of him refused to accept that blank as permanent. He finished his coffee in silence, and when his pager went off a few minutes later, he was almost relieved for the excuse to leave the thought behind, if only for the length of his next shift.

.

.

.

.

The consult request landed in his queue a little after four. It was one of a dozen routine notifications that came through on any given shift. He almost skimmed past it. He didn't work in obstetrics anymore, not since he'd handed his own patient list over to Dr. Kim weeks ago. He'd made an effort to stop looking at those cases.

But this one came through internal medicine, not OB. It was flagged as severe dehydration and malnutrition, possible hyperemesis. They wanted a second opinion on fluid management before admitting the patient properly.

He opened the summary out of habit more than curiosity.

Female, thirty two years old. About eleven weeks pregnant. She'd been found unconscious by a friend. Severe dehydration. She'd lost eight percent of her body weight in two weeks. Her heart rate had been dangerously high on admission. There was no record of any follow-up appointment since her first OB visit three weeks earlier.

He frowned at that last part. Three weeks was a long time to go without monitoring, especially with symptoms this severe. Someone had fallen through the cracks. It bothered him, the same way it always did when a patient's file showed the system failing someone who should have been caught sooner.

He looked for the name of the doctor overseeing her care. He found only Dr. Kim listed, with no other notes attached besides an old transfer memo from a few weeks back. He didn't think twice about that memo. He'd written it himself, but his mind was somewhere else, moving through the facts the way he always did, quickly and clinically.

The patient's name was cut off in the quick view screen, an old glitch in the hospital's software that had annoyed him for years. He never thought to be grateful for it before.

He typed up his recommendation. Slow rehydration. Anti nausea medication. Closer monitoring, given the gap in her care. He added a note asking social work to check in, since it looked like she didn't have much support. It was clinical and short, the way he wrote every consult note, and he sent it back through the system without a second thought.

Something caught at the back of his mind for a moment. Eleven weeks. The number surfaced, then sank again before he could think about why it mattered. There was another patient waiting.

He didn't open her full chart. There was no reason to. It wasn't his case anymore, and nothing in the short summary gave him any reason to connect this exhausted, malnourished woman to the one who still, somehow, took up more space in his thoughts than she had any right to.

He moved on to the next consult. But the uneasy feeling stayed with him for the rest of his shift, quiet and shapeless, like a name he almost remembered but couldn't quite reach.

.

.

.

.

Jungwon didn't remember falling asleep. He remembered lying in the dark for a long time, staring at his ceiling, exhaustion finally pulling him under sometime past midnight.

And then he was dreaming.

The garden came back to him, the same one from weeks ago, though he knew almost immediately that something about it was wrong.

The trees were still there, heavy branched, familiar in shape. But the leaves had gone brittle at the edges, curling inward like paper too close to a flame. Some had already fallen, scattered thin and brown across ground that should have been soft with grass and instead felt dry and cracked underfoot, like it hadn't seen rain in a long time.

He walked through it the way he had before, searching without knowing exactly what he was searching for. The fruit trees that had once bent low with ripeness now held branches that looked stripped and empty, a few withered pieces of fruit still clinging on that looked more rotten than ripe.

The woman was there again. He still couldn't see her face clearly, the way dreams sometimes blurred the details that should have mattered most, but he recognized her outline, the same as before, standing beneath the same tree where she'd once handed him a peach warm with sunlight.

This time she wasn't holding anything out to him. She was kneeling at the base of the tree instead, one hand pressed against the trunk like she needed it to stay upright. Her shoulders looked thin. Her head was bowed low enough that he couldn't see any of her expression, only the slow, careful way she was breathing, like even that took effort.

"Wait," he said, or tried to. His voice didn't seem to carry the way it should have.

He moved toward her, and the ground beneath his feet seemed to stretch further with every step, the way distances do in dreams, refusing to close no matter how fast he moved. The leaves kept falling around them, one after another, drifting down slow and silent, until the branches above her were bare.

He reached her at last, or thought he did, and knelt down in front of her, and reached out to touch her shoulder. She looked up at him then. He still couldn't make out her face. But he could feel, somehow, in the strange logic dreams operated by, that she was exhausted. Depleted. Something in her had been quietly draining away, day after day, and no one had noticed in time to stop it.

She simply closed her eyes again, her hand still pressed to the trunk of the dying tree, and the last of the leaves let go overhead, falling around both of them like something quietly ending.

He woke with a start, heart pounding, sheets damp beneath him, the ceiling of his own bedroom swimming slowly into focus in the dark.

It took him a long moment to remember where he was. Longer still to shake the feeling that had settled deep in his chest, heavy and wrong, like his body understood something his mind hadn't caught up to yet.

He sat up, pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, and told himself it was only a dream. Stress, probably, or guilt finding a strange shape to wear while he slept. But he didn't fall back asleep for a long time after that. He lay in the dark instead, staring at the ceiling, turning the image over and over, the garden gone bare, her kneeling beneath it, exhausted in a way that had felt far too real to belong only to a dream.

He was distracted the whole next day, in a way that didn't sit well with him at all.

It started small. He mixed up the order of two consults, something he never did, and had to double back and apologize to a nurse who'd been waiting on him. He found himself staring too long at a patient's chart during rounds, words on the page not quite registering, his mind circling back again and again to a garden that didn't exist and a woman whose face he couldn't see.

He told himself it was just a dream. He'd told himself that all morning, on repeat, like saying it enough times might finally make it true. It didn't help. The image kept surfacing anyway, uninvited, in the quiet spaces between tasks. The leaves falling. Her shoulders, thin and bowed. The way she hadn't answered him.

And underneath the dream, tangled up with it so tightly he couldn't separate the two anymore, was her. The real her. The woman from the exam room, weeks ago now, sitting there in a paper gown telling him flatly that she didn't need anything from him.

He hadn't seen her since. He didn't know if she was alright. That fact, which he'd been quietly carrying around for weeks, suddenly felt heavier today, pressing somewhere behind his ribs in a way he couldn't explain and didn't like.

He caught himself, twice, opening the hospital directory with every intention of searching her name, only to close it again before he could type more than a letter or two. He had no reason to look. No professional reason, and telling himself there might be a personal one felt like admitting to something he wasn't ready to say out loud, not even to himself.

His chest felt tight in a way that had nothing to do with his own health. It was an uncomfortable, restless feeling, like something was wrong and he didn't have enough information to know what, or where, or how to fix it. He hated not knowing. He'd built his whole career around being someone who found answers, who didn't let uncertainty sit for long before chasing it down. And here he was, useless, sitting with a feeling he couldn't name and no way to act on it.

By the time his shift ended, he'd barely eaten, his coffee long since gone cold and forgotten on his desk. He sat in his car in the hospital parking lot for a while before starting the engine, hands resting on the wheel, staring out at nothing in particular.

"It's just a dream," he said out loud, to the empty car, like hearing it might finally settle something.

It didn't. If anything, saying it out loud only made the discomfort in his chest more obvious, more real, refusing to be reasoned away just because he didn't have a name to put to it, or a face, or any real claim to worrying about her at all.

He drove home in silence, the radio off, the same restless unease sitting with him the whole way, quiet and persistent, like it had no intention of leaving until he did something about it.

He got as far as his apartment door before he stopped fighting it.

He stood there for a moment, keys still in hand, and then, almost against his own better judgment, pulled out his phone instead of going inside. He told himself it was just to check. Just to see that she was fine, that the dream had been nothing, that the tight feeling behind his ribs was simply exhaustion wearing a strange shape. Just this once, and then he'd stop.

He let himself back into his own hallway, sat down heavily on the bottom step of the stairwell instead of climbing them, and opened the hospital's internal system on his phone. His thumb hovered over the search bar longer than it should have. He typed her name.

The system took a second to load, longer than he wanted, his knee bouncing while he waited, and then a list of results filled the screen. Not many. It was an uncommon enough name that there was really only one match that mattered.

He tapped it before he could talk himself out of it. The file loaded slowly, and for a moment his eyes just skimmed without absorbing anything, too much information arriving too fast. Then it started to land, piece by piece, and his stomach dropped further with each line.

Admitted three weeks ago. Severe dehydration and malnutrition. Discharged same day, no documented follow up. Readmitted two days ago. Hyperemesis gravidarum, ketones present, found unconscious by a third party.

Found unconscious. He read it twice, like the words might rearrange themselves into something less alarming the second time. They didn't. He scrolled further, hands not quite steady now, and found the consult note attached to the more recent admission. His own name was on it. His own handwriting, in a sense, typed out clinically weeks ago, recommending fluid management for a patient he hadn't realized was her, flagging her case for social work because something in the chart had told him, even then, that no one was checking in on her.

He'd been right there. He'd read her chart and not known it was her. He'd written notes about her condition and closed the file without a second thought, because the software had cut off her name and he hadn't looked hard enough to notice.

Eleven weeks. The number that had been surfacing in his mind for days finally made sense, horribly, completely, and he felt something in his chest cave in around it.

She'd been sick. Really sick. Alone in an apartment somewhere, collapsing, hospitalized twice, and he hadn't known. He'd been having dreams about dying gardens while she was on a bathroom floor somewhere, or worse, and he'd told himself it was nothing, told himself it wasn't his place to look.

He was on his feet before he'd fully decided to move, keys still in his other hand, phone still lit with her chart, his pulse loud enough in his ears that it drowned out every reasonable argument his own mind tried to raise about boundaries, about what she'd asked for, about whether he had any right at all to show up.

None of it mattered right now. He needed to see her. He needed to know, with his own eyes, that she was alright. He was already moving toward the door before he'd let himself think through what he'd even say when he got there.

.

.

.

.

The room had gone dim sometime after the nurses' evening rounds, the overhead lights dimmed low, the machines beside your bed humming their steady, indifferent rhythm into the quiet. Karina had left an hour ago, only after you'd insisted, only after you'd promised you'd call if you needed anything, a promise you both knew you probably wouldn't keep.

You lay there now, IV taped to the back of your hand, the thin blanket pulled up to your chest, and let yourself, finally, stop pretending you were fine.

It came slowly at first. A tightness in your throat you tried to swallow down out of habit. Then your eyes stinging, then blurring, until the ceiling above you dissolved into a soft, watery smear of white. You pressed the back of your free hand against your mouth, an old reflex, quiet, don't let anyone hear.

There was no one to hear. That was the whole problem, wasn't it.

You thought about the last two weeks. About crawling to the bathroom in the dark. About lying on your own bedroom floor, alone, until your body simply gave out and someone else had to find you before it was too late. You thought about how close that had actually been, closer than you'd let yourself admit even to Karina, who'd cried in the waiting room while you were unconscious and hadn't fully stopped being afraid since.

You thought about the tiny, stubborn thing growing inside you that you hadn't even properly begun to plan for, that you were supposed to be strong enough to carry through all of this alone, and some exhausted, honest part of you finally admitted, in the dark, in the quiet, that you didn't know if you could.

"I don't know if I can do this," you whispered, to no one, to the empty room, your voice cracking apart on the last word.

The admission scared you more than anything else had in weeks. You'd built your whole life, especially these last two months, around the belief that you could handle anything alone if you just gritted your teeth hard enough. You'd told Jungwon that, practically to his face. You'd told yourself that every single day since. And here you were, hooked to fluids in a hospital bed for the second time in a month, and the belief was cracking right down the center, and you didn't know how to hold it together anymore.

The tears came harder after that, silent at first, then not silent at all, your shoulders shaking with the effort of trying to keep it quiet even though there was no one there to disturb. You curled onto your side as much as the IV line would allow, one hand drifting to rest low against your stomach, the way it always did now without your permission.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, to the tiny life you couldn't see or feel yet, only imagine. "I'm trying. I promise I'm trying."

It didn't answer, of course. There was only the quiet hum of the machines, and the faint hallway light bleeding in under the door, and the terrible, hollow ache of being so completely alone with something this big.

You cried until you didn't have much left to cry with, until your eyes burned and your chest ached and exhaustion finally started pulling you down toward sleep despite everything. You didn't wipe your face before you let your eyes close. There was no one there to see it anyway.

That was what you told yourself, right up until the moment sleep finally took you under, and you never heard the soft, hesitant knock that came at your door several minutes later, too tentative to wake you, from someone who'd been standing in the hallway for a long moment before he found the nerve to lift his hand at all.

Somewhere between the crying and the exhaustion pulling you under, one thought kept circling back, quiet and unanswerable.

Is it supposed to be this hard?

You didn't know. That was the worst part of it, in a strange way. You'd spent years around children, around the after of pregnancy, the finished product of it, toddlers with sticky hands and easy laughter, and never once had you stopped to ask their mothers what the nine months before had actually cost them. You'd assumed, vaguely, the way people assume things they've never had to live through, that it was hard but survivable, uncomfortable but manageable, something women simply got through with the right amount of patience and ginger tea.

You hadn't expected this. The bathroom floors. The fainting. Two hospital admissions in less than a month, your body seeming to fight the thing growing inside you rather than simply carry it. You wondered, in the dim, half formed way exhaustion allowed for, whether other women went through this too, quietly, alone, and never talked about it because talking about it felt like admitting they weren't handling something that was supposed to come naturally.

You thought of your own mother, briefly, the offhand thing she used to say. Hardest thing I ever did alone. You'd always assumed that meant the raising, the late nights, the years after. You were starting to wonder if she'd meant this part too, the very beginning, the part nobody warned you about because by the time you were far enough along to tell anyone, you were already too deep in it to turn back.

You didn't know if this was normal. You didn't know if other women lay awake at night wondering if their body had simply chosen the wrong person to do this to, someone without the reserves for it, someone already worn thin from everything that came before. You didn't have anyone to ask. Not really. Karina had been wonderful, had sat by your bed for hours, but Karina didn't know what this felt like from the inside, the particular loneliness of a body doing something enormous while the rest of your life went on expecting you to be fine.

You pressed a hand lightly against your stomach again, feeling nothing yet, no movement, no proof beyond the exhaustion and the IV and the doctor's clipped, worried tone from earlier that day. Just an idea of a person, still. A hope, and a fear, tangled together so tightly you couldn't separate them anymore.

Is it supposed to be this hard?

You didn't have an answer. You only had the ache in your chest, and the too-quiet room, and the slow pull of sleep finally dragging your thoughts apart before you could find one.

.

.

.

.

Jungwon didn't remember most of the walk from the parking garage. He remembered running at some point, badge bouncing against his chest, breath tearing ragged in his throat by the time he hit the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator, two steps at a time, his pulse louder in his ears than anything else around him.

He found your room number on the floor directory and moved toward it without slowing, weaving past a cart, muttering an apology to a nurse he nearly collided with. He didn't bother knocking. He pushed the door open, chest still heaving, and froze.

You were still awake.

You'd curled onto your side, one hand pressed against your mouth, shoulders shaking with the effort of crying quietly in a room that had no reason to expect anyone would walk in on it. Your eyes were red, your cheeks wet, the IV line taped awkwardly to the back of your free hand. You looked up at the sound of the door, startled, and every part of you went rigid.

Disbelief bleeding through the exhaustion. You pushed yourself up slightly against the pillows, swiping a hand roughly across your face, some old reflex to hide what he'd just walked in on, even though it was far too late for that. "What are you— how did you—"

He didn't answer right away. He was too busy staring at you, chest still rising and falling too fast, his own shock plain on his face. He hadn't let himself picture this, not really, not the reality of it. How small you looked. How hollowed out. How clearly you'd been crying alone for a while before he arrived.

"I read your chart," he admitted, voice rough, still catching his breath. "I didn't know it was you until an hour ago."

"You shouldn't be here," you said, though it came out weaker than you meant it to, your voice still thick with tears.

"I know." He didn't move toward you yet, like he was afraid of doing the wrong thing, afraid of taking up space you hadn't offered him. "I know I shouldn't. You told me you didn't need me. I heard you. I've been trying to respect that for weeks, and I have no right to walk in here and undo it just because I'm scared."

"Then why did you come?" Your voice broke on the question, quieter than you meant it, more honest than you meant it too.

He took a step closer, slow, like he was asking permission with every inch. "Because I've been dreaming about you for weeks and I didn't even understand what I was dreaming about," he said, voice unsteady now, none of his usual composure left in it. "Because I read a chart today and didn't know it was yours until it was almost too late to know at all. Because the thought of you lying somewhere alone, going through this by yourself, is unbearable to me. I can't explain why. I've tried to talk myself out of caring this much about someone I barely know, and I can't do it. I've tried for weeks."

You stared at him, tears still slipping down your face, unable to find any words to answer that with.

"I'm not asking you to let me fix this," he went on, quieter now, closer, close enough that you could see how badly his hands were shaking at his sides. "I'm not asking you to trust me, or to need me, or to believe I'll be different from whoever taught you to expect nothing. I know I haven't earned any of that yet." His voice cracked, raw and unguarded in a way you'd never heard from him. "I'm just asking you to let me sit here. Just for tonight. Please. I don't want you to be alone in this room anymore."

You pressed the back of your hand against your mouth, a fresh wave of tears rising, not entirely sure anymore if they were from exhaustion or grief or something dangerously close to relief.

"I don't know… I… ," you admitted, voice cracking apart. 

"One night. That's all I'm asking for right now. Just let me stay."

He reached out, slow and hesitant, and rested his hand near yours on the blanket, not quite touching, close enough that you could close the distance if you wanted to. You did. Your fingers curled weakly around his, and for the first time in weeks, neither of you were entirely, completely alone.

Taglist : @daysweetdreams @ritaevan @lostgirlysstufff @riksterki @jungw0nluvrr @daysweetdreams @bryxwdz @yeahhemmings- @nyawon @inspiredchaos @nikkicy @dasoms-world @itsmeafellowengene @blackheels-jpg @eeevanlr @rizz00 @ambi01 @sunoosunghoon @justhornylol @cherryluvssss @imtiredofthisbsstuff @m0shim0shi @kitteaasstuff @evansramen @nocturnal-lanturn @sugarbunny1221 @natmagaesp @sunnywithwon @peachsunnie1009 @emotionalsweaters2 @ameliaayjw @veemegatron @simsdoll @jeonjieun17 @8naqvg @zoe1love @sunsoomi @gordazepam @yjwswifey @chaconnehoon02 @camilleinyourheart @performativefembo1 @anflowers11 @jinniebabee @jwnieluvrr @gglanaa @raspberriui @enhxlvr @fouldiplomatpapershark @pretty-little-things-are-real @ot7archives @binnniemoonroa @blackcadet @rayofsunshineeee @nnhypenn @loveyvw @evanzgirl @b1scuitwxngss @geonatzz @moont0kki @worthilygrimlocket @kikizzz0 @letwiiparkjay @sunoospinkpickle @sunniee1009 @ryujinsgf26 @synamon @qlorin @ihoowuc @skzenhalove @jungwonsdimpl3 @hamseungssi @queenshibihh @oiosoobin @ootoebn @hannahlovesenhypen @yangvitta @fzowers @graythecoffeebean @yethoughts @pumpitup-jungwonssi @yangw0ni3 @perolaprincess123 @ririnaps @in-somnias-world @goosemantheweeb @nmurark05 @smnguyen @itsmeafellowengene @coerareyou @bananamilkforjk @jakeyyyjakexoxo @aeinthe-void @yuudaiinhs @heesroses @esz13 @jungwonisme @hevxan @simjaeyunlvrclub @mercielouv @ynnii @lawjakesim @mailovesreading @love4yubin @sievenderz @en-muse @rskwon @hhoneyhan @shhth @angelshedevils @aresverlac @xsooahx

[est3llaa]

ROSES — y.jw

you keep dreaming of the same man, someone you swore you have never actually met. he appears in your dreams regularly, always covered in blood. when you're tasked to sketch the face of a serial killer who has been wrecking havoc in your town, you realise exactly why he looks so familiar.

GENRE — smut, dark content, serial killer au, supernatural au

WARNINGS — mostly dubcon but some noncon too, stalking, murder, lots of supernatural elements, character deaths, reader is kinda fucked in the head, internal crisis, hickeys, making out, fingering, slight spanking, backshots, riding, creampie, lmk if more!

WORD COUNT — 14.2k

NOTE — if you notice the writing style change in the middle, no you didn't.

“third time in a row. our culprit can officially be declared a serial killer.”

you looked up from the body, turning your attention towards chief kang. he was already looking at you. “wouldn’t you agree?”

you glanced back towards the body. same relaxed posture, one hand over his eyes, legs carelessly posed—it almost looked like he was still alive, just peacefully sleeping. but his skin was turning ashy, limbs rigid. and the rose.

god, the rose.

you had no idea what could possibly be it’s significance—if it at all had one. the victims always seemed to ‘hold’ a rose with one hand on their chest. the roses always had no thorns, the petals always fresh when the body was first found. perhaps, it was just the killer’s way of showing that it was indeed his work, but you begged to differ. it had to be more than just a claim, there is always more to the story than such simple explanations.

snapping back to reality, you realized that you hadn’t answered your superior yet. “yes sir, i do.”

the chief let out a hum, looking back at the body. the town was small enough for everyone to know everyone, so it wouldn’t be hard to dig up every piece of information on the victims. at the end of the day, every serial killer had a pattern. this rose lover should also have one.

“detective lee,” the chief suddenly said, turning his attention towards your co-worker and friend. “did you investigate florist kim?”

heeseung was quick to respond. “yes sir, we completed the investigation yesterday itself. please accept my apologies for not informing you earlier.”

the chief waved his hand dismissively. “not a big deal. now tell me what you figured out.”

heeseung pulled out a bunch of pictures from the file in his hands. he pointed to the first picture. “this,” he said. “is a picture of the rose on the victim’s body. they always have the exact same type of rose.” he flipped the pictures to show the roses on the other victims too.

“and this,” he said, flipping the pictures to show fresh roses inside a greenhouse. “is a picture of the roses florist kim sells. he said he only sold red roses, since black ones cannot grow around our area. i asked around to confirm, and he was indeed telling the truth.”

he chief let out a dissatisfied hum. “yet another dead end. the killer could be right among us and we wouldn’t know because we don’t have a single clue.”

you let out a small sigh. there weren’t too many people who could possibly classify as suspects in this town, yet catching the killer or even getting a lead on him seemed practically impossible. “i can deploy some people to ask around, try to find any kind of a common link for me sketch a face. detective sim can use his computer skills to dig up information on all victims and possible suspects. detective lee can stay around the crime sites to find out any fingerprints or tiny pieces of evidence the rest of us might have missed.”

the chief nodded. “sounds good.” he patted your shoulder, as he started making his way back to the car. “this is exactly why you’re one of my favorites. you know when to lead, and exactly how to lead, along with how to correctly deploy resources.” 

you only lowered your head at his words. you were well aware that his favoritism was unprofessional. but you, jake, and heeseung were truly the best detectives in the entire town. everyone in town relied on the three of you whenever any major crime happened, the chief being no exception.

he looked around at all three of you. “if you three can successfully find our killer, i will personally fund a vacation for each of you.”

the three of you glanced at each other. a vacation? now that was thrilling. “of course sir. we will give our best regardless.”

the chief gave one last proud smile, before climbing into his car. being the chief’s only direct subordinates meant most of the work load was on you three. especially since the three of you had extra talents.

you for example, had your love for art, which caused you to become the forensic artist of your town, despite there not being an official post for such a job. jake was exceptionally good with electronic devices, especially computers. heeseung had a keen eye for details, which caused him to easily find things which others may have missed. tiny details, which would turn out to actually be crucial details.

you nodded to jake and heeseung, before going into your own car. your subordinates followed quickly, getting in with you. you sighed, massaging your head. your assistant buckled his seatbelt, getting ready to drive. “where should we go, ma’am?”

you didn’t respond, lifting your head up and looking at the files in front of you. you picked them up, flipping through them. each murder was so cleverly conducted, not a single scratch on any of their bodies. the cause of death was unknown, the autopsy on the first body still being conducted. apparently the result would be known by tomorrow. but until then, there was absolutely no clue.

“take us to the first victim’s neighborhood. maybe we will find some answers there.”

vines surrounded you everywhere, the thorns prickling you continually. black roses adorned the vines beautifully, the scene equivalent to an ancient graveyard, the calmness of the place unsettlingly serene.

you forced your feet to forge ahead, despite the prickles. it was only then that you realized a terrifying fact—there was blood everywhere, drenching everything. the smell suddenly changed, from the sweet subtle smell of roses to the metallic smell of blood and rot.

your feet trudged ahead, almost on autopilot. the smell made you nauseous and lightheaded, but it was as if someone was maneuvering you like a puppet, forcing you to walk ahead despite yourself.

eventually, a gazebo came into view. it was white as snow, the rose vines wrapping around it. the blood dripped down from the vines, the droplets flowing down the pillars of the gazebo. but the most peculiar thing about the whole ordeal was the man standing in the middle of the gazebo.

you walked faster, desperate for answers. once you reached the gazebo, you hesitated. you looked at the unfamiliar man in front of you, really looked at him. his clothes were soaked in blood too. his back was turned to you, leaning on a pillar with his shoulder. he was looking down judging by the way his head was tilted downwards.

swallowing down your nervousness, you took a step forward. immediately, you slipped. before you could fall or even scream, a hand was around your waist, steadying you. a shocked gasp left you, followed by your labored breathing.

the unknown man was looking down at you, his lips curling up into a smirk that screamed menace. he helped you stand properly, before removing his hand from your waist. the loss of contact left a strange feeling in you, as if missing his warmth.

he looked you up and down, the look in his eyes becoming more and more unsettling by the minute. when he locked his gaze with yours again, it felt like you were hypnotized, with how he was pulling you in.

he raised one hand, brushing a stray strand of hair from in front of your eyes, tucking it behind your ear. you suddenly snapped back into reality, taking a step back. “don’t touch me–”

you gasped, waking up with a start. you blinked several times, eyes slowly becoming accustomed to the darkness. what was that?

you remembered your dream vividly, not a single detail amiss. how was that even possible? moreover, who was that man?

you shook your head. it was just a dream, why were you letting it bother you? besides, it was probably the stress of the case that was causing you to lose sleep, resulting in such weird dreams. that was it.

right?

“so," the chief took a sip of his tea. “did any of you find anything?" 

you sighed, looking down at your files. heeseung was massaging his temples. jake was the first to speak up.

“there isn't any common pattern as such, but all three victims had some kind of dirt on them." jake passed a bunch of files to the chief. “the first victim, yoon victoria, daughter of the chaebol yoon haneul, has a reputation for using money to get away with anything and everything." 

the chief raised a brow. “anything and everything, you say?" he flipped through the files jake had placed in front of him. “please, do elaborate." 

“maids and servants in general were always dismissed unfairly from her estate according to many, some even claiming that she had bribed many to keep their mouths shut about what went on inside there.”

by now, heeseung had stopped massaging his temples, and you stopped glaring at your files as if they might magically provide you with a clue. both of you were intently staring at jake as he spoke.

"but some people had still anonymously placed reports of the woman's bad temperament, which had allegedly resulted in the murder of a maid servant in her service. records say that the maid servant had apparently let her kid play with victoria’s, something the chaebol’s daughter was not too happy about. she had apparently flipped out, and when the maid defended herself, victoria had thrown a knife lying near her. safe to say, the knife hit its target, killing the maid instantly.”

he paused to take a breath. “the maid’s child was apparently thrown out and sent somewhere unknown, while her own kid was traumatized while seeing the scene. apparently the kid was watching from the top of the stairs, and fainted upon seeing what her mother did, causing her to and fall from the top of the stairs, dying shortly after.”

a sharp pain pierced through your temples, right as heeseung spoke. “that’s… darker than expected.”

jake let out a hum. “it was really hard to find this out. there were all in old files in the locker room, and very old and unpopular articles on the internet. found out through the—oh, i almost forgot. she used to live in a city where all this happened, but after this incident she had shifted here. apparently she never really got over the loss of her child, causing her to grow mad over the years.”

massaging your temple, you let out a hum in agreement. victoria was well known for being insane, people always mostly avoiding her. once you bumped into her in the market by mistake, and before you could even apologize, she had grabbed your arms tightly. the look in her eyes were wild, as she called a name you didn’t remember now. it took like three people to come and make her finally part from you.

the chief leaned back on his chair. “interesting… what about the other two?”

jake rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “didn’t get to find out anything about them yet, victoria alone took up a lot of time.”

the chief nodded. “no worries, this alone was a lot of help. thank you for your service, detective sim.”

jake bowed in politeness. chief kang now turned to you and heeseung. “what about you two? any updates on your sides?”

you shook your head. “not a single person in the entire neighborhood noticed anything amiss. not even a hooded figure, or someone at a place they are not supposed to be, nothing out of the ordinary.”

heeseung spoke next. “i searched up the entire site, and even more. i even had my team dig up a lot of areas, but nothing. not a single thing amiss, or anything out of place. its as if any kind of admissible evidence was taken by the killer, or we are missing something very obviously hidden.”

the chief nodded. “i believe you’re right. the autopsy on victoria must be over by now, so we will know the cause of death pretty soon.”

right on que, one of your subordinates burst into the room, files in hand. “chief!” he quickly placed the files down in front of him. “these are the autopsy results.”

the chief nodded to him. “thank you, officer park. you may take your leave now. and in future, please make sure to knock first.”

officer park bowed, embarrassed, before quickly leaving. the chief flipped through the pages, his brows furrowing.

unable to contain your curiosity, you asked, “what is it chief?”

the chief looked puzzled, as he continued to read the same page over and over again. “it says the victim died of undiagnosed diabetes? there were no signs of any kind of external or internal injuries otherwise.”

the three of you looked at each other, dumbfounded. that was… unexpected to say the very least. “but—that can’t be right.” heeseung spoke up. “it’s obviously a murder, the position of their bodies, and the black rose in their hands… it just doesn’t make sense.”

the chief hummed, putting the files back on his desk. “nothing really makes sense. no forced entry, no signs of struggle, no signs that indicate actual murder. all except the weird position of their bodies and the rose.”

the chief sighed, before looking back at the three of you. “continue with the case. something is very amiss, and we need to get to the bottom of this. keep going with the investigation. all three of you have done a brilliant job till now, so don’t stop yet.”

you and heeseung looked at each other. both of you had done absolutely nothing, jake was the one that did anything at all. but praise was praise, and who were you both to not accept it?

you got up from your seat. “i’ll continue asking around in the second victim’s neighborhood then. see if i get any clues.”

heeseung got up as well. “i’ll go there as well. maybe there’s some kind of evidence we missed out in there.”

jake gave a two finger salute. “i’ll go dig up stuff about the other two victims.”

the chief nodded in appreciation. “very good. please do carry on.”

that same garden. the same prickly vines. same black roses. all of course, drenched in blood. and in the middle of it all, the gazebo. hauntingly beautiful, drenched in crimson. same man standing in the middle of it, staring at you with a look that caused goosebumps to rise all over you.

he offered you his hand. you looked at him in the eyes. should you really trust him? nevertheless, you placed your own hand in his outstretched one, letting him pull you inside the gazebo.

as you stood face to face with him, your curiosity and anxiety, both grew in equal measure. “who are you?”

raising a brow, he smirked. he raised his hand, caressing your cheek. you flinched, but still let him do it. his touch felt strangely comforting, yet your guard remained up. after all, you still had no idea who the hell this guy was.

the look in his eyes had taken over a more melancholic edge, which left you confused. what even were you supposed to make of it? not only was this strange man covered in blood, he wasn’t speaking. and he kept finding ways to touch you. normally that would have rang alarm bells in your head, but as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. and you were curious as hell.

“why won’t you speak?” your brows furrowed, as you looked at him. his smirk only widened. he tilted his head, leaning close to your ear. you thought he was going to whisper something, but you were proved wrong quickly, as he bit your ear.

you gasped, trying to move away, but he held onto your waist tightly. soothing the bite with his tongue, he kissed the area. he trailed his kisses down to the bottom of your neck, making your breath hitch. he sucked on that spot, rubbing his tongue over the spot so deliciously, that it had you tilting your head from the pleasure.

a moan accidentally slipped out of you. encouraged, he sucked harder and harder, until he was satisfied. when he pulled his head back, your neck sported a bright red spot, blooming rapidly. satisfied with his work, he finally pulled away.

you snapped back to your senses, stepping away from him. his hands were in his pockets, as he stared at you with his signature smirk. you took another step backward, your hand covering the fast forming hickey on your neck. your head hit the pillar in the process, causing you to gasp.

you gasped, your eyes snapping open. your breathing was labored, as you stared at the ceiling. another dream? of the same man? what was going on? worst of all, you still remembered the dream vividly. the events had your face burning. what the hell was wrong with you?

having a weird feeling, you shot up from the bed, quickly going to your vanity table. you switched on the small light beside it. to your utter horror, there was a hickey forming on your neck. you hadn’t been with anyone recently, hell you hadn’t been with anyone in quite a long time. so how–?

surely, the dream was simply a dream? you couldn’t possibly have gotten the hickey because of… that dream, right? after all, it wasn’t real.

right?

“any news?” the chief asked, as soon as he sat down.

heeseung looked at you. you shrugged, catching his gaze. he too shook his head. once again, the two of you had nothing.

jake spoke up. “well… i did find something unexpected about our second victim.”

chief kang sat up straight. “unexpected, you say?”

jake let out a hum. “yeah. kim seil, the con artist. he used to be victoria’s secret lover back in the day.”

“holy shit…” heeseung’s voice rang out, before he quickly slapped his own palm over his mouth, immediately apologizing for the profanity. but the information was almost incredulous—not that you didn’t trust jake, his ability to dig up information was amazing—so his reaction was completely valid.

jake continued. “before victoria allegedly committed the murder, she used to have an affair with our second victim.”

“huh,” you scoffed. “so the victims do have a pattern.”

he went on. “when victoria gave birth, her husband was suspicious of whether the kid was really his or not. he had been suspicious for the entire duration of her pregnancy, since apparently the timing of her getting pregnant and the two of them sleeping together, did not match up. after the kid was born, he did a paternity test, the result showing that he was in fact, not the father.”

heeseung leaned on his palms. “the tea just keeps getting better and better.”

jake gave him a side eye, before continuing. “upon learning the news, the husband divorced victoria. the actual father, was seil. once victoria got divorced, she actively sought his company, although their affair remained an affair, never growing into something more serious.”

taking a deep breath, he continued. “he visited their kid often, and was quite a present father. when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria, but ultimately left her, since his kid died under her protection. even so, he shifted to the same town as her, since he felt bad about her mental state.”

you leaned back on your chair. “and then he died. right after her.”

the chief looked at the three of you. “i suppose the three of you have deduced who our main suspect is? if, of course, all the alleged information is in fact true.”

you let out a hum. “the maid’s kid. but–” you looked at jake. “how come all the information is alleged?”

jake shrugged. “it’s all recorded as servant gossip. and all the complaints were by servants too. nothing is proven. so yes, it is all alleged.”

the chief opened a file placed in front of him. “the autopsy report is here. the cause of death is the exact same. undiagnosed diabetes.”

you rubbed your temples, sighing. you suddenly felt very aware of the hickey on your neck, which you spent almost twenty minutes in the morning trying to conceal. not only was there a mystery to solve out there in reality, but also in your dreams. curse your terrible living quarters for your terrible sleep which induced such mind boggling dreams. ones that left marks physically outside of the dream.

once again, you were back in the garden. the gazebo was right in front of you as well. this time, the strange man was looking straight at you.

“i was waiting for you,” he said, pushing himself off the pillar. his voice was beautiful. it had this raspy edge to it that made your knees weak.

you raised a brow. “you finally spoke,”

he only smirked, offering you his hand. “well… you kept me waiting, so i grew impatient. which is why i broke my pattern.”

you tilted your head. warily, you took his hand, letting him pull your inside the gazebo. he was yet again too close to you. but this time, before he could touch you, you stopped him. “don’t.”

his hand froze midway. he raised a brow. “what’s the matter?”

you shook your head. “just… don’t. don’t touch me.”

he clenched his jaw, but stepped back. although reluctantly so. you spoke again. “will you please tell me who you are? it is frustrating to experience these… weird dreams over and over again, whenever i sleep, without knowing anything at all as to what is going on. or even who i keep encountering.”

the man chuckled. “is that so?”

you frowned at his rhetorical question, while he only continued to stare at you with amusement. after a few beats of silence, he spoke, “jungwon.”

you blinked. “jungwon?”

he nodded. “that’s my name.”

furrowing your brows, you tilted your head in confusion. “do you live in our town?”

he shrugged. “something like that.”

your frown became bigger. “what is that supposed to mean?”

he only smirked in response. “find that out yourself, detective.”

his words unintentionally caused your cheeks to flush. ignoring your bodily reactions, you instead focused on his clothes. “why are you always soaked in blood? and in this weird garden?”

his smirk grew wider. “curiosity killed the cat, detective. we should leave some of the mystery for our next meetings.”

you were quick to respond. “but satisfaction brought it back. please, everything is so frustrating and blurry and just out of reach—please answer some of my questions.”

jungwon only shook his head. “i’m afraid this is the best i can do for now. till our next meeting, ___”

you woke up with a gasp, panting as you stared at the ceiling. “jungwon…” you whispered into the night, the name tasting familiar. it rolled off on your tongue perfectly, which made you wonder if you knew him. was he someone from your town? how come you couldn’t remember him?

but right now, you had more important matters to focus on. the rose loving killer’s case, for example.

jake dropped a bunch of files in front of him. “third victim, chae unjeong. a.k.a victoria’s ex husband.”

you looked at heeseung. at this point, neither of you were surprised. the murders were obviously connected, so it made sense that the ex husband was also a victim.

jake continued. “after the divorce, victoria had pleaded her case to unjeong a lot, but with no result. but one of the things victoria told unjeong to guilt trip him into staying was ‘stay for the sake of the child’. even though it ultimately didn’t work, he still probably felt guilty, since the poor child had nothing to do with the whole thing, and was only the product of the affair. so it wouldn’t be fair for it to suffer the consequences. thus, he often sent money in the form of child support for it. obviously, victoria didn’t use the money for those purposes, but that wasn’t in unjeong’s knowledge.”

the chief muttered under his breath, “what a kind hearted man…”

jake nodded, before continuing. “there wasn’t much else in the reports, other than the fact that when the alleged murder happened, he helped victoria as well. but the death of the kid had taken a toll on him too, which is why he shifted to this town.”

the chief hummed, flipping through the file in front of him. “his death was apparently caused by the same thing. undiagnosed diabetes. this killer has to be the most impressive killer across history, except for the fact that he deliberately made it obvious that he murdered his victims. despite the autopsy reports showing otherwise.”

heeseung let out a hum. “i think i will go to each crime site again, and search for evidence in a wider radius. it feels simply impossible that all sorts of evidence is erased from every single crime site.”

you shrugged. “suit yourself. i spent six hours or more each time i went to question entire neighborhoods. i’m more than certain i left out no one, so there is nothing more i can do from my side.”

heeseung got up from his chair. “in that case, i’ll leave alone.” he looked at chief kang. “i hope it’s okay that i’m not taking my team with me either.”

the chief shrugged. “you’re a grown man, with years of experience as a detective. it’s your decision. do what you feel is best.”

heeseung bowed, before stepping out. in the silence that followed, a nagging question that filled your mind ever since the first time you had those weird dreams, surfaced again. usually, you always pushed the question to the back of your mind because of how ridiculous it sounded, but then again, the cause of death for each victim was also pretty ridiculous. so you allowed yourself to ask the question.

was jungwon the killer?

it was already starting to get dark when heeseung arrived at victoria’s house. weeds had already started growing, and a certain smell had started settling down on the entire property. nevertheless, he still trudged ahead.

he had already checked her entire house—twice at that—which wasn’t too hard because of how tiny it was. it wasn’t even a house, more so a cottage. surprising choice, given that she was a chaebol’s daughter. but perhaps losing her own child had driven her to this state.

he went around the property again. the cottage was almost fully empty. there wasn’t much of a point to search it all over again, since even if there really was any kind of evidence left, the killer would definitely have visited again to remove it. they always do.

still, he looked around. there was a pungent smell coming from her bedroom. it had been a week since victoria’s death, so the smell was pretty justified. covering his mouth with a handkerchief, he looked through her dresser, and closet. it was all emptied out, the police having taken everything the day they came to first find her dead in her own bedroom. it was to find any kind of clue as to the cause of her death. unfortunately, as is already known, they were unsuccessful.

but heeseung was obviously not one to give up. not this quickly. he was persistent, and persistence was key when it came to solving such cases. so he overturned the mattress, before ultimately lifting the whole thing up and throwing it on the ground. thankfully he was wearing gloves, because the mattress had holes in it, which were obviously a result of rats chewing through the fabric.

it was a box bed, a fact that he already knew of, given, you know, the fact that he already searched the entire property multiple times. he opened the cover, the inside that was previously filled with sheets and other random objects, was now empty. the police had already confiscated everything.

still, he shone the flashlight inside the box. and thank god he did, because he saw this weird discolored part at the bottom, which was obviously not something he had noticed before. frowning, he pushed down on it, causing it to immediately give away. surprised, he stared at the now square shaped hole in the box.

realizing it was a false bottom, heeseung put his hand inside. his hand immediately came in contact with some sort of paper. groping around, he pulled out a stack of papers. shining the flashlight on them, he realized with a start that they were letters. dozens of them, all stacked at the bottom of the bed.

lifting one off the stack, he quickly realized that the letters were all unsent ones, written by victoria to her child. the first letter he picked up, was just victoria expressing her longing for her child, yearning to see her baby again.

reading through the letters, they all had the same content, victoria’s desperation to see her child again. it was quite sad, really, but she had killed some innocent child’s mother, so he couldn’t bring himself to feel quite sorry for her.

stuffing the letters in his pocket, he explored the rest of the house again. but unlike the bed, nothing else in the house seemed to hide any more secrets. disappointed, he headed out to the backyard. it was already dark now, but he wanted to go home without any regrets.

shining the flashlight on the fence, he explored the entire area. until a part of the fence seemed slightly lose. curious, he held the flashlight with his teeth, before pushing on the fence. he had noticed the hinge long back, but it had seemed locked each time he came to inspect it before. but this time it was different. with a bit more effort, he finally managed to pry it apart.

the fence opened to the woods. looking at the isolated house, there was a big chance that the murderer had come in through the fence. or well, it was just a possibility. he decided to explore a bit, just in case.

he walked quite a distance, before stepping on something uncomfortable. bending down, he shone his flashlight. it was a bunch of dead leaves, but he was certain it felt like something else. digging through the leaves, he came across a used syringe.

he slowly stood up, inspecting the syringe. there seemed to be some kind of residual liquid inside it. but before he could inspect it fully, a sharp pain exploded in the back of his head, making him drop the syringe. clutching his head, he dropped to his knees, groaning from the pain, before eventually blacking out.

when you entered your house, it was completely silent. just like it usually was. except this time, the silence felt… wrong. you were a detective, and years of doing your job had made you more wary of approaching danger. and this time, it was no different.

you looked around cautiously. nothing seemed amiss. still, you walked around with extra caution, hand on your gun, just in case. but even after searching your entire home, there was nothing out of the ordinary. yet, the weird feeling did not go away.

the reason for it soon became apparent, when you reached your bedroom. opening the door, you froze in place. sitting on your bed like he belonged there, was none other than the man from your dreams. jungwon.

your throat dried up. all instincts screamed at you to take your gun out and aim at him, but an unknown fear was gripping you so tightly that moving at all felt impossible.

jungwon on the other hand, was having the time of his life watching you. he tilted his head back with a smirk, enjoying the way an experienced police officer like you was so terrified at the mere sight of him, despite him never having done anything to you.

he patted the space beside him. “won’t you come sit?”

forcing yourself to breathe, you managed to ask, “what the hell are you doing inside my house?”

jungwon chuckled, getting up. “that’s not a very nice way to talk to your guest, is it?”

your hand instinctively reached for your gun, but jungwon was faster. within seconds your hands were pinned to the door, jungwon’s face hovering dangerously close to your own.

“i wouldn’t try that if i were you.” he muttered, eyes unabashedly dropping to your lips. with how fast your heart was beating from the proximity, you almost caved in, before remembering your profession. and the fact that this was an intruder, a complete stranger—what he was trying to do was wrong and unlawful on so many levels.

but jungwon seemed to be able to predict your every move. he suddenly twisted your body, pushing your face towards the door. your back was flush to his chest, as he pinned both your hands over your head with one hand, taking your gun out using the other. lifting the side of your perfectly ironed shirt with the gun, he teased your bare skin with it, running the gun back and forth on your waist.

“don’t even try, sweetheart. if i wanted to kill you, i wouldn’t need a gun. and trust me when i say you’re no match for me.”

you were scared, terrified even. this wasn’t a predicament you ever thought you would find yourself in. i mean, come on, you’re trained for these situations. you know self defence. so why is it so hard to do anything to defend yourself against a guy you know only from your dreams? more so, why was he so goddamn strong?

jungwon put his face into the crook of you neck, taking in a deep inhale. god, you smelled just the way he remembered. he couldn’t help but lick a stripe up your neck, ignoring your gasp of horror. he lightly bit and sucked all over the area, trying to leave marks.

you sighed, the pleasure starting to overwhelm your rational brain. which was pretty dumb on your part, but after being touch starved for so long, you were… really sensitive. so you tilted your head, giving him more access. right on que, he sucked harder, pressing himself further into you. he threw the gun to the side, instead pushing his hand inside your shirt, opting to grope you without any obstacles.

he pushed his hand up, inside your bra, squeezing the soft flesh of your boobs. pulling his hand out, he unhooked your bra, before going right back to groping your tits. this time, without resistance. he pinched your perked up nipples, drawing whines out of you. you bit down on your bottom lip, trying to muffle any further sounds.

jungwon rolled your nipples in between his fingers, before flicking them. the way he was playing with them made them even more sensitive than before, your whines growing louder, gradually more unrestrained. slick started seeping out of your pussy, dampening your panties. you rubbed your legs trying to relieve the tension.

jungwon noticed. of course he did, he noticed everything about you. he knew everything about you. every. single. goddamn. thing. what put you off, what got you going, everything. so, when your whines started turning shaky, he smirked. he stopped groping your chest, opting to fiddle with your pants instead.

he popped the button open, pulling down your zipper along with it. pushing his hand inside your soaked panties, he was immediately met with your slick coated folds. he lightly ran one finger lightly across your folds, collecting your slick. you let out a muffled whimper at the feeling, clenching around nothing.

jungwon casually rubbed light circles around your clit, stimulating you further, trying to make your whines louder. he flicked your clit upwards, pinching it. he opted to rubbing it harshly, your broken gasps and whines for him to stop not deterring him in the slightest. in fact, it only encouraged him to continue abusing your clit further.

besides, he knew you didn’t actually want him to stop. he had spied on enough of your solo sessions to know what you liked, what you did not, and what actually made you cum. so he continued to rub your clit harshly with his thumb, inserting two fingers inside your drooling hole.

your whines grew louder, as you squeezed down on his fingers, hard. jungwon paid no heed, instead focusing on thrusting shallowly on your upper wall, listening to your broken moans in satisfaction. the added stimulation was making your head spin, your knees growing weaker by the minute.

you could feel jungwon’s rock hard boner pressing insistently against your ass, while he continued to abuse your pussy. it was all starting to become too much, too good, your brain growing hazy from the intense pleasure, when suddenly that nagging question came back to your mind–

is jungwon the killer you’re looking for?

the thought successfully brought you back to reality. with all your strength, you threw a kick at jungwon, as best as you could while being pushed face first into a door with your hands held captive, and your pussy being abused incessantly. you aimed the kick towards his balls, but missed—obviously—hitting his shin instead.

jungwon hissed at the pain. instead of flinching and letting you go like you had hoped, he dragged you towards your bed, taking his hand—now coated with your fluids—out of your dripping cunt. he pushed you head first into the pillow, practically sneering, “such an ungrateful brat.”

he opened your nightstand, taking your spare handcuffs out—how the fuck did he know they were there?—and used them to cuff your hands together. you didn’t know why you weren’t able to fight back at all, it was as if some unknown force was dulling your senses. it was frustrating, highly so. what was the point in being one of the best officers on the force if you couldn’t stop some random guy from forcing himself onto you?

jungwon pushed your ass up, forcing you to bend your knees. he was done being nice, since you were so insistent on being uncooperative. he forced your pants down, purposely letting them fall only to your knees instead of pulling them down all the way. restricting your movements even further this way.

he pushed your shirt and bra up to pool near your neck, uncaring if it affected your already dulled senses. it was what he wanted anyways. he slapped your bare ass cheek, squeezing the flesh in his palm. you bit your lip, muffling a sob, your face burning hot from the humiliation and self loathing. how could you possibly be wet in such a scenario? why was your body such a traitor?

his eyes were dark, as he stared at your fluttering hole. your slick kept dripping out, wetting the sheets, because of how worked up you were. dipping his thumb into your soaked folds, he lightly massaged your lips, adding to your humiliation. you whined, squirming. jungwon slapped your ass in warning again, to make you lie still.

getting impatient, he fiddled with his zipper, pulling his pants down just enough to pull his throbbing cock out. feeling his bare tip rub against your sensitive folds had you flinching, a fresh batch of tears gathering in your waterline. you felt useless, so fucking useless. were you really that weak? was it really that hard to fight back?

jungwon didn’t know about the self loathing thoughts he was causing you to have, nor would he have cared if he got to know about them. all he cared about was how good it felt just to rub against you, skin to skin, your slick making it too easy for him.

it wasn’t even your fault that you couldn’t do anything to protest, really. jungwon just knew all your weaknesses already. there wasn’t anything you could do to stop him. except for enjoying what he was giving you, of course.

the way he kept grinding on your bare cunt sent shockwaves of pain and pleasure up your spine, the overstimulation getting to you. your brain was going into overdrive, somehow starting to register only the pleasure. more slick poured out of you, coating his dick in a sheen of your arousal, much to his delight.

but jungwon had waited too long for this. he couldn’t wait any longer. he slowly pushed his bulbous tip inside you, his cock dragging across your walls so very deliciously. you couldn’t help but moan at the intrusion, your body completely at his mercy.

when he finally bottomed out in you, it felt like heaven to him. and unfortunately for you, you felt the same way. being touch starved for so long, it felt a bit too good to be so filled up. jungwon knew just how you felt, and fortunately for you, he intended to make it feel good. so that you never ever thought of any other cock filling you up ever again.

pulling out almost all the way, he pushed right back in, making you splutter, somehow feeling more full than you were before. his grip on your hip was tight, tight enough to bruise. pulling out slightly again, he set an almost brutal pace, one that left you dizzy from how good it felt.

he was hitting all the right spots, something your previous hookups had never managed to do. it felt good, almost too good to be true. you didn’t even realize you were moaning, until jungwon squeezed on your neck, lightly choking you. his other hand was gripping your waist tightly, which was the only thing holding you up. your legs were shaking from his intensity, shaking under his unrelenting thrusts.

suddenly, he stopped. he let go of your neck, pulling you up by your waist, making you sit up on your knees. the new angle allowed him to go even deeper, hitting your g-spot continuously. the feeling had you blabbering nonsense, half sobbing, half moaning. he used his other hand to rub circles on your clit, stimulating you even further.

sparks of pleasure shot up your spine, making you cry out from the intense pleasure. the knot in your stomach was growing tighter and tighter, making you wish you weren’t handcuffed, desperately needing to hold on to something. jungwon continued to rub and pinch your bundle of nerves, making you feel like you were on fire.

the coil in your stomach finally snapped. your pussy clamped around his length like a vice, almost pushing him out. your orgasm hit you hard, washing over you like a tsunami, making your eyes roll from the feeling. jungwon’s own orgasm got triggered, as he snapped his hips up into yours one last time, balls slapping against your clit.

he shot ropes and ropes of warm cum inside you, holding your spasming body against his. your walls kept squeezing around him, milking him for every last drop. once he was done, he slowly pulled out his flaccid cock, watching the mixture of his and your cum drip down onto the bed.

carefully laying you down, he took out the tissues from the drawer in the nightstand,—again, how did he know they were there?—using them to wipe both of you clean. he unlocked the handcuffs, lightly massaging your sore wrists. your eyes were closed, as you were on the verge of unconsciousness. right as you were about to fully pass out, he said one last thing.

“don’t worry princess, i’ll be back soon.”

“i’m glad you guys are here, despite it being so early.” the chief spoke, as he walked ahead of you. you glanced at jake, who looked just as confused as you were.

“has another body been found?” you asked, already knowing the answer. what other possible reason could there be to get called upon so early, if not for the appearance of more dead bodies?

“i’m afraid so. apparently someone was taking a walk in the woods and discovered the body. he immediately called us, and upon a little questioning, it was found that the description of the body matched the rest of the victims.”

you nodded, even though the chief couldn’t see you. jake spoke up. “where is heeseung? isn’t he coming.”

chief shrugged. “i called him, but it went straight to voice mail. shot him a text but i was left on delivered. perhaps he is still asleep.”

you frowned. that was very unlikely of heeseung. he was a very light sleeper, even someone’s slightly loud breathing could wake him up. you knew because early in your careers the two of you had hooked up a couple of times, and you woke him up quite often in the night, every time you shifted to your side. it was part of why you both didn’t make it into an arrangement, along with the fact that he started dating someone.

“we are almost there.” the chief announced, as you neared a house. you raised a brow. that was victoria’s house.

the chief pushed through the gates, going inside the property. he walked around the house, the two of you, and your subordinates closely following. behind the house, a part of the fence was agape, the fence gate being wide open.

all of you went through it one by one, going into the woods. after walking for a good ten minutes, the chief stopped dead in his tracks. confused, you peaked from behind him. the sight that greeted you had your blood freezing.

there, lying on the ground, skin starting to turn ashy, legs straightened, hands carefully posed, while holding a black rose to his chest, lay heeseung.

you stared at him for what felt like several minutes, before realizing your hands were shaking. suddenly becoming hyper aware of your surroundings, you looked at jake. he didn’t seem to be taking the news too well either, his eyes way wider than you have ever seen.

as you looked back at heeseung’s corpse, you felt bile rising to your throat. all the times you guys laughed together, called each other lame, drank together—every single memory that you had of him, rushed through your mind like a movie fast forwarded.

unable to control yourself any longer, you moved to the side, running towards some random tree, before retching. you felt someone hold your hair up, but you couldn’t care less. you puked pure bile, your throat stinging. once you were done, you choked on your sobs.

getting up, you turned around to see jake, his own eyes filled with tears. he offered you a bottle of water, ignoring which, you hugged him tightly, sobbing into his jacket. he hugged you back just as tightly, his own tears wetting your shirt.

the chief cleared his throat. his voice cracked, as he spoke. “please escort him with dignity.”

the people who brought the stretcher carefully lifted heeseung’s body, taking him inside the ambulance. you watched the ambulance leave with teary eyes, before you started crying again.

outside the autopsy room, you and jake paced impatiently, waiting for news. the two of you had insisted on the autopsy to be done sooner than normal, determined more than ever to crack down the case. the killer had crossed a line by killing of a dear friend, he had to pay.

the doors to the room creaked open, both of you snapping your necks towards the source of the noise simultaneously. the guy wordlessly handled a file to you, shaking his head.

your shoulders sagged, but you weren’t ready to give up. opening the file, you scanned the pages, jake peering past your shoulder. the same ‘undiagnosed diabetes’ stared up at the two of you, along with something that stirred hope within the two of you.

mild concussion of the back of the head.

bingo. a small clue. minuscule, really, but a clue nonetheless. but then the hope quickly diminished. “heeseung went to victoria’s house to find any clues he missed out. the killer probably got to him there.” you spoke in a hollow voice.

jake hummed. “but… isn’t it odd?”

you frowned, looking at him. “what is?”

jake shook his head. “i mean, every murder happened while the victim was asleep. heeseung was killed out in the open, near one of the crime sites. doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

you blinked, looking back at the file. “it does… it certainly does.”

jake continued. “what if… what if he isn’t part of any pattern? what if he was killed because he found something? some sort of clue that would link the killer’s identity to the murders?”

the realization dawned on you. “sim jaeyun, you’re a fucking genius.”

he blushed. “i only meant it as a possibility. a mere speculation.” he said humbly.

you shook your head. “nope. you’re right. you’re absolutely correct. there isn’t another possible explanation to this, which makes it the truth, not just a speculation.”

jake scratched the back of his head. “well… what do we do then?”

you raised a brow. “isn’t it obvious? we do what we do best. i sketch and you dig up information.”

“look ma’am, i need you to think harder. this person is a serial killer, it is important we catch him quickly. so please try to remember.”

the woman looked genuinely sorry. “i’m really sorry dear, but i can’t remember anyone or anything out of the ordinary that i can remember from the past few days. i’m sorry i couldn’t be of much help.”

you sighed in disappointment. “that’s alright ma’am, i’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time.”

you and your team left the house, going to the car. your assistant spoke. “ma’am, we have already covered all the houses. would you like to get going?”

you sighed, wanting to cry. you didn’t want to give up so soon, but there really didn’t seem to be much of a choice. “i suppose so…”

just then, a voice shouted from somewhere in the distance. “miss, wait!”

you looked towards the source. a boy in his teens was running towards you. almost tripping on his feet, he finally stood in front of you, panting heavily. you looked at him with concern. “are you alright?”

he nodded quickly, before taking in a deep breath. “i saw a stranger last night near… that lamppost. i know everyone in town, so i’m quite positive this person is not from here.”

your eyes widened, as you quickly spoke to double check. “you sure?”

he boy nodded. “i’m positive.”

your adrenaline had spiked. “can you describe him?”

the boy squinted his eyes. “uh… i can try?”

“good.” you said, immediately signaling your assistant to grab your sketchbook and pencil. “start describing.”

“well… the light was flickering, so i only saw him for like two seconds, before he was gone, but uh… he had pale skin? and black hair. his face was soft, i guess. not too rugged or anything. his eyes were kind of big, almost almond shaped? and he had a straight nose, full lips, and a pretty sharp jawline. oh, and he was handsome. like, i’m not gay or anything, but damn that man was attractive.”

as he spoke, your hand moved, quickly. as you drew, you added your own details, something which made you quickly realize that you knew this person. with increasing dread, you continued drawing, a full face quickly forming.

once you were done, you showed the drawing to the teen. “is this the guy?”

his eyes widened. “holy shit, yes! damn, you’re good. like—really good.”

you gave him a dry smile, before looking back at your sketch book. the hauntingly real face of jungwon stared right back at you.

chief was quiet, as he stared down at his cup of coffee, absent mindedly stirring it. your throat felt restricted, as you stared at heeseung’s empty seat. disgust rose to your throat in the form of bile, upon realizing that jungwon must have visited you after killing heeseung.

jake cleared his throat. “uhm… I looked through all of heeseung's records. it's completely clean. nothing in there outside of the information we already know. orphaned at a young age, studied hard, got a scholarship—then ditched it to join the police academy.”

chief sighed softly. “thank you jake." 

jake didn't reply, sitting down. noticing how tense you were, he reached out, putting his hand on your knee. rubbing gentle circles on it.

you looked at him, giving him a half smile to thank him. you had to look away quickly, not wanting him to see your tears.

“we must be close to figuring out who the killer is. must have been why he chose to kill off one of our best officers." the chief spoke, his voice quieter than usual.

you sniffled, muffling a small sob. wordlessly, you took out your sketch book, sliding it over to him. he looked up at you, before flipping through it, stopping at jungwon’s face. he frowned, before his eyes widened. "is this–?”

you didn't trust yourself to speak, so you nodded. the chief gave you a look that showed he was genuinely impressed. “good job, officer ___, good job.”

you only bowed your head lightly. you didn't know if the picture of jungwon at all made things better, or if it only complicated things more.

the chief took one last look at the sketch book, before passing it back to you. “i assume you will send me and everyone else on the force a picture of this?" 

you nodded.

the chief let out a hum. “in that case, you both can leave now. today's work is done. go home and take some rest. you both need it. and–” he looked at the two of you. "don't let today's loss deter you both from our goal. this killer is trying to discourage us from finding him. don't let him succeed.”

you felt a fresh batch of tears forming in your eyes at his words. so you kept silent. jake nodded. "i’ll try to find more information about all of our victims." 

the chief nodded. he looked at you. “you needn't do anything else, officer ___. finding the face of our killer is good enough. please go home and rest.

you swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding. standing up, you bowed. "i’ll take my leave now.”

the chief nodded again. "off with you two then.”

jake’s apartment was messy, fitting in with the computer science nerd stereotype. his desk was cluttered, everything astray. yet for him, nothing was out of place. in fact, he knew exactly where everything was, despite the mess.

carefully navigating through his organized mess, jake picked up some files he had brought home. they contained all the information he had gathered about the first three victims, and some more. he began flipping through the pages, wanting to find out anything else that might be relevant. anything important that he might have missed.

thing is, there were at least a dozen files in total. he hadn’t even gone through all of them yet, but still found quite a lot of useful information. although it was clearly not enough, since now they had in their hands the face of the killer, someone none of them recognized. which meant that this person didn’t belong to their town.

which made the questions arise: if according to previous clues, the killer is the child of a dead maid looking to avenge his mother, how come he is a face no one recognizes? how come he is in town, but hasn’t been spotted even once? other than when one eye witness accidentally spotted him?

questions, so many of them. yet their answers remained unknown. flipping through one of the files at the bottom of the stack, a hand recorded conversation caught his attention.

“i’m telling you right now officer, these new people in town are monsters, monsters i say!”

“that’s a serious accusation, sir. are you sure you’re not simply mistaken? news of your alzheimer’s has spread throughout the entire town, you know.”

“officer, you have to believe me! they killed a child! and hid away another! i heard them talking about it the other day! you must arrest them at once—who knows what else they are capable of?”

“mr. choi, i’m sure you’re mistaken. please go home and rest. make sure to take your medicine on time—i’ve heard you’re being quite stubborn while taking it?”

“fine, don’t believe me. but when these monsters do something worse, don’t tell me i didn’t warn you!”

given the date and time in the file, it wasn’t hard to estimate that the so-called ‘monsters’ mentioned in the file were the first three victims. especially since the fate of the two children mentioned there matched perfectly with the information he already found out.

he sighed, putting the files away. opening up his computer, he went back to the old articles about victoria. said articles were written by very small and unknown journalists, which was why they weren’t too popular—and consequently, very hard to find. scrolling through them, he quickly started becoming bored. they were all the same, nothing that he hadn’t already found out.

right as he was about to give up, a link to another article was provided in one of the comments under an article he had already read three times. clicking on the link, he was taken to a different tab, a different article on display.

this one apparently contained highly classified information, based on a conversation a reporter had with a servant of victoria, one who requested anonymity. skimming through it, a particular part caught his attention.

“—according to our source, victoria’s own child hadn’t actually died, and was in fact alive in the hospital. as the saying goes, walls have ears, our source having eavesdropped on victoria’s phone calls, figuring out exactly what happened to the kid. apparently her child fell into a coma, and was likely to forget everything upon waking up, as a trauma response. following which, victoria had secretly sent away her child to some other place to protect it from any future possible threats. meanwhile, the child of the maid she murdered, was sent away to an abusive foster home, presumably to die, since she didn’t want to get her hands dirty a second time. our source also mentioned that victoria had indeed succeeded in doing so, since she had delightedly shared the news of the child’s passing to her lover. our source also mentioned that–”

jake blanked out. the maid’s child was… dead? victoria’s own child was alive? what. the. fuck? that just made the case a shit ton more complicated than it already was.

looking back at his screen, he was about to scroll further, when suddenly a sharp pain struck the back of his head, accompanied with the dull sound of heavy metal colliding with something hard—in this case, his head.

he clutched the back of his head, his vision swimming. with difficulty, he tried turning around, only to be hit again. this time, he successfully passed out.

you had been staring at the ceiling for at least a couple of hours now. upon reaching home, you had immediately collapsed on the couch, staring up at the ceiling numbly. to think that heeseung was just… gone? it was too much to process, even after the autopsy had already been conducted.

your eyes burned, but you didn’t even have the energy to cry. to think that jungwon had probably killed heeseung before coming to your house and defiling you—and for you to have enjoyed it to a certain extent—it made you want to crawl out of your own skin.

speaking of which, your entire body felt itchy, dirty, disgusting—despite you having already showered in the morning. but maybe another shower was just what you needed, to get rid of his disgusting touch from your skin.

getting up, you headed to the bathroom. your clothes were drenched in sweat from the entire day’s activities, stripping them away and welcoming the cold air on your skin felt like heaven already.

turning up the water temperature, you let the tub fill half way, before stepping in. you instantly felt relieved, the tension leaving your muscles. picking up a bath bomb you had gotten earlier during the year on your birthday, you dropped it in the water, causing it to immediately explode, flooding the water. the smell was exceptionally relaxing, making you sigh and close your eyes, relaxing yourself further.

but you couldn’t relax for too long, since the sound of the door to the bathroom opening interrupted your calm. you sat up in horror, drawing your knees up to your chest.

it was jungwon.

he strolled in like he was taking a walk at the park, looking down at you with a smirk. “why do you look so surprised, pretty? i told you i was gonna come back.”

your hands shook from where they were shielding your chest. you stared up at him with terrified eyes. “why are you…?”

he raised a brow. “why am i here? i already told you, i was going to come back.”

you couldn’t breathe. now that you knew that he had killed heeseung, you felt a lot more terrified of him than before. “are you going to kill me as well?”

jungwon looked at you like you had grown a pair of horns atop your head. “kill you? god, no. of course not. why would i kill you?”

that reassured you. a little bit. “then…?”

he smirked, starting to pop open the buttons on his dress shirt one-by-one. “isn’t it obvious, beautiful?”

your eyes widened, as you quickly looked at your pants, which had your gun attached to the belt. if you were quick, you could reach it. but of course, jungwon wouldn’t let you do that.

“that wouldn’t be a very smart thing to do, princess.” he said, making you snap your gaze back to him. his smirk never left, as he turned to look at the gun.

to your astonishment, and utter horror, it began floating, before flying across the bathroom, to the furthest corner. if you tried getting it now, jungwon would easily stop you. but the question remained: how the fuck did he make the gun levitate?

“wha—how?!”

jungwon chuckled. “there’s so many things you don’t know, ___”

he had already taken off all his clothes, going and sitting inside the bathtub with you. he leaned back casually, staring at you with a look that told you precisely all you needed to know—he had the upper hand over you, and there was nothing you could do about it.

he gestured to you with his hand. "come here princess."

you shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. you drew your knees in closer, locking them in place with your hands around them.

his expression changed. "don't test my patience ___. come here while i'm still being nice."

you gulped, shaking your head again.

his expression hardened further. "i won't repeat myself again. come. here."

swallowing the lump in your throat, you shook your head again.

he sighed, giving you an almost disappointed look. "i didn't want to do this, really. but you leave me no choice."

you frowned, wondering what he was referring to. but he didn't let you wonder too much, as he flicked his wrist. with a gasp, you suddenly landed on his lap, your hands clumsily landing on his shoulders, aware of how your very bare lower halves were rubbing against each other.

you tried getting up, getting away from him, but his grip on your waist was tight. too tight. how the fuck was he so strong?

"don't bother trying princess. save your energy for later."

you let out a shuddering breath, helpless tears slipping down your face. "why are you doing this to me? what have i done to you?"

jungwon didn't answer. leaning forward, he licked a stripe up your cheek, the salty, yet invigorating taste of your defeat invading his taste buds. sometimes he felt sorry for you. truly, he did. you, as naive as you were, you had no idea about the truth. the truth which so very often threatened to rear its ugly head, threatening to ruin everything in a single slip up—the truth that everyone worked so hard to bury beneath the surface, with layers of nothing but blankets woven with lies. so yes, he felt sorry for you at times. but then he reminded himself why he started all of this in the first place.

but deep down, a part of him questioned it all: was it still revenge, or had it bent into something completely different?

you see, he hates you. hates you for something you were never actually a part of. any of… what had happened—but he still blamed you. how come you get to escape the aftermath of everything, but he doesn't? why was he the only one that had to suffer the consequences of something he never did? whereas you, another witness of the same goddamn crime gets to escape it all? why the discrimination?

was it simply because you were not as old as he was? was it because you couldn't comprehend what had actually happened? he tried, really did, to find reasons to excuse you. to let you off the hook. but perhaps there was more to it than he allowed himself to admit. more to the faux 'hate' he claimed to have in his heart for you. afterall, the strongest emotions to exist are often confused for one another.

but this was no time to contemplate such trivial things. right now, watching you fight your own body to try (and fail) to not fall apart in his hands was a lot more important. especially by making you initiate it yourself.

he pulled you closer to him, hugging your body to his, as he sucked at the spot under your jaw. one hand remained on your waist, the other further up your back. the position was intimate—it almost felt like the two of you were simply lovers getting carried away while bathing together—if it wasn't for your weak attempts at trying to push him away.

jungwon wanted to scoff at you. you weren't fooling anybody, if your pathetic attempts at muffling your moans were anything to go by. god, you were so easy. perhaps this was another reason he did what he was doing.

he pushed you further into him, letting go of your neck to kiss you instead. he wasn't being aggressive like you initially thought he would be. no, he was taking his time with you, kissing you slowly, sensually. almost like it was all consensual.

but god, with the way he made you feel, you might as well lean into it.

you didn't know when the water in the tub drained, but suddenly the pressure was off your lower halves. as you broke the kiss to breathe, you noticed the bottom unplugged. which meant the slipperiness where your cunt rubbed against his cock was because you were wet.

you wanted to blame it on jungwon. on your body for betraying you. for making you feel instead of grieving for your friend that was murdered. for making you enjoy being violated by the same guy that killed heeseung. anything to feel less guilty for doing what you were.

you didn't want to grind on him, you just… couldn't help yourself. he was making you feel like your entire body was on fire, electric shocks running up your spine every time he touched you. it was exhilarating. even if the voice in the back of your head screamed at you for betraying every one by letting yourself go.

but that was the thing, wasn't it? why shouldn't you be selfish for once? the entire circumstances were strange—the way you knew him, the things you knew he was capable of doing—all of it was strange. but none of it changed how real he made you feel.

so you allowed yourself to tilt your head back. to moan, to feel—because it might just be the last time you ever did.

jungwon grinded up into you, both feeling and seeing your initial hesitance melt away in real time, giving space for your real feelings to shine through. he had you right where he wanted, and he couldn't be more smug about it all.

holding your hips with both hands, he guided your movements, the sounds of your slick and your moans gradually taking over the entire space. if anything, it made his cock harder, twitching against your slick folds. god he wished he could just shove himself into you right fucking now—but that would ruin the fun, wouldn't it? he needed you to do it yourself. given how desperate you were getting, he was pretty sure you were getting way to close to doing so yourself.

true to his prediction, you let out the most pathetic whine he had ever had the pleasure of hearing from you, as you rocked your hips even more desperately over his. "please…"

jesus fucking christ. you really were desperate. "please what, angel?"

you let out another whine. "please—h-hah—fuck me?"

god, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, weren't you? "should i?"

you whimpered, your cunt practically throbbing from the lack of attention. you needed him to be inside you, or you were sure you would combust right there. so you lifted yourself up slightly, reaching one of your hands down to grab his twitching cock, clumsily lining him up to your folds, before sitting down, shoving him deep inside you. the 'splat' sound of your thighs slapping together echoing through the room.

the two of you let out collective moans, both of you a throbbing mess. you clenched, and unclenched around him, the wonderful feeling of finally being able to feel something so real while ignoring your conscience was… an experience to say the least. pressing your lips to his again, your hands found purchase on his shoulders. lifting yourself up, you dropped down again, his cock dragging across your gummy walls at the best possible angle.

jungwon gripped your waist—not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to guide your movements. he silently encouraged you to go faster, by bouncing you harder on top of him. your arousal dripped, and dripped, past his balls, wetting his thighs. the constant sound of your ass slapping against his balls filled the space, along with your your muffled moans.

you broke the kiss when your lungs started burning. jungwon focused on your neck instead, determined to fill the entire expanse with his marks. he trailed kisses across your jaw, sucking hickeys there too. his hickeys spread down to your collarbones, as his hands came up to grope your tits. sometimes his actions got a little too intense, causing you to clench down hard on him, which in turn caused him to twitch, small spurts of cum spilling into you. he wasn't embarrassed in the slightest, especially since it seemed to turn you on impossibly more.

your bouncing would slow down at times, but never coming to a full stop. sometimes you grinded onto him instead if it really became too much. but fuck, it was all too good to stop.

but all good things eventually come to an end. you were starting to feel overstimulated, your legs becoming sore as well, despite not being nearly close. fortunately for you, jungwon seemed to notice.

using one hand to support your waist, he used to other to rub light circles around your clit. when your moans started turning into whines, he pinched your engorged nub, before flicking on the sensitive bud. your nerve ending were already on fire, but he then started rubbing on it harshly, causing your moans to practically into screams.

you could feel your orgasm approaching steadily, the knot in your stomach growing tighter and tighter. when you felt it right on the tip of your tongue, jungwon started to shallowly thrust up into you. your orgasm crashed down on you like never before, your eyes rolling back till only the whites were visible. the gush of liquid pushed his cock out, but he pushed right back in, his own orgasm approaching quickly.

holding you in place, he pistoned his hips into you at an almost brutal pace, before making you sit flush on top of his cock, as he shot out ropes of warm cum straight into your cunt. your walls fluttered around him, your body slumping on his. you felt tired, so, so tired.

jungwon patted your head. it was ironic, how soft he was being with you, despite telling himself that this was all to punish you. since when had punishments felt almost like an act of love?

"sleep." he said, in this almost echoing voice. immediately, you were knocked out. he held your body close to his, staring down at the top of your head. he should kill you. it would be the right thing to do. you couldn't even defend yourself in this state. so what was stopping him?

was it his conscience? bullshit, he didn't have one. so why was he doing the opposite of what he originally planned?

he decided he didn't want to keep cuddling you like a lover while contemplating all this. so, he did what he thought was the best thing to do as of now. clean you up, put you to bed, and leave. silently. without leaving any traces of him ever being there in the first place. after all, leaving without a trace was something he excelled at.

anxiety gripped your heart like a vice, as you glared at jake's empty seat.

"officer ___, please, take a seat."

you shook your head. "where is jake? is he running late?"

chief kang didn't say anything, opting to stare at his lap.

you grew more and more frantic by the second. "he is running late, right? right?"

chief looked at you with sad eyes. "please, sit down." his voice was gentle, barely above a whisper.

you dropped to your seat with a thud, vision growing blurry. "no…"

chief sighed softly. "his landlord called us upon finding his limp body on his desk. the killer didn't bother with his usual theatrics this time, leaving the rose beside his head instead of laying him down like the other victims. there are visible injuries on his head as well. the autopsy has almost been finished by now."

your hands were shaky. "why wasn't i informed earlier?"

chief kang gave you an apologetic gaze. "you are already under a lot of pressure, i didn't want to add to it."

you looked at him with indignation, despite the tears running down your face. "i'm part of the force too! jake and heeseung were more than just my coworkers, they were my friends! i should have been the first person to be informed of this!"

chief nodded. "i understand dear, but please trust me when i say i did this out of good will. you have already done a lot, and i didn't want to work you up further."

you shook your head. "you don't understand, i–" a sudden thought struck you. you knew the killer. you have met him. despite the circumstances being strange, you should let the chief know, right? because… what if the next target is you? even if he said he wouldn't kill you? after all, why should you trust a killer, who also liked to play with you? both physically and psychologically?

so you did what you thought was best. "i… i know the killer. i have met him."

the chief's eyes widened in disbelief. "what?"

you shrank into your seat. "you don't believe me…"

the chief shook his head. "no no, of course i believe you. i was just surprised."

you took in a deep breath. "well—what i'm about to say now, that is something you may not believe. but i need you to understand that everything i will say is the truth and the truth only. i swear i will not lie or leave out any details whatsoever."

the chief nodded, giving you the green light to continue. swallowing the lump in your throat, you started speaking. you told him everything—every single dream, the full details of what happened, how the hickey manifested onto your neck outside of the dream, how he came to your house twice and forced himself onto you, how he literally levitated a gun and even you—every single detail.

when you finally finished, the chief was… shocked, to say the very least. "so statistically speaking… there is a chance that you're next."

you nodded. chief kang massaged his temples. "there is something we can do…" he looked at you with a very serious look in his eyes. "but you must be very discreet about it, understand?"

it was a lot later than usual when you finally reached your house. the silence in your house was nothing out of the ordinary, yet you felt a chill up your spine.

reaching your bedroom, you hesitated. your gut told you to run, run as far away as possible. but you ignored it, opening the door anyways.

as expected, jungwon was sitting on the bed. he was staring intently at a page in your sketchbook—presumably his own picture. he looked up at you, signature smirk back on his face. "you're late."

you swallowed the lump in your throat. "work." was all you said, your voice hollow.

he tilted his head. "are you unhappy about something?"

you stared at him, unblinking. "you killed two of my dear friends."

his smirk widened, but he didn't answer. looking back down at your sketchbook, he commented. "you're awfully talented. it's like staring at a mirror."

you clenched your fist, but forced yourself to remain calm. "what exactly is it that you want?"

jungwon looked up at you in surprise. "what do i want? why, i thought i had made it quite obvious from the very beginning?"

you frowned. sensing your confusion, jungwon offered. "you. it is you that i want. was it not obvious?"

you scoffed in surprise. "what?"

he let out a hum, getting up. he came and stood in front of you, hands behind his back. "why is it so hard to believe, princess?"

you shook your head, finding him ridiculous. "tormenting me through weird dreams, killing my friends, forcing yourself onto me multiple times—you did it all because you want me? what kind of a fucked up logic is that?"

he smirked again. "believe it or not, that's your choice. you asked me a question, and i merely answered it."

you glared at him. "in that case, i suppose you won't mind answering some more questions?"

he raised a brow. "shoot and find out."

so you began. "the first three victims—did you kill them because of revenge?"

"mhm."

"why? are you the son of the maid who victoria killed?"

jungwon scoffed. "my mother was no maid. she and victoria were childhood friends, and she went to visit her the day she died."

you frowned. so that meant some of the information you had was inaccurate. "how exactly did she die?"

he tilted his head. "i thought you already knew that victoria killed her. stabbed her with a knife."

you slowly nodded. "and you were there to witness it."

he nodded, so you continued. "why exactly did she kill her?"

his smirk returned. "you have noticed me doing things that seem… unusual, yes?"

you raised a brow. "you mean appearing in my dreams and levitating objects? then yes, i have."

his smirk widened. "my mother, in simple terms, was a witch. her abilities were something i inherited. victoria fought with my mother, because she was the only person who knew of her abilities. she threatened to reveal it to the public, if my mother didn't teach her how she did what she did."

"obviously she couldn't do so, since those powers could only be inherited. victoria, being a temperamental bitch, stabbed my mother over it. because victoria was a dear friend of hers, she couldn't defend herself, and the knife had struck a vital area, so she quickly stopped breathing. the servants had an inaccurate version of the whole ordeal since my mother created an illusion for them. she couldn't risk everyone finding out about her powers. but obviously the illusion didn't work on me, since that time my mind was pure. pure souls cannot be fooled by illusions."

you frowned. "what happened to you after all of it?"

he scoffed lightly. "they put me in an abusive foster house and paid them to kill me. but i killed them first, and mimicked their voices over the phone and told them that i was the one that died. fuckin' dumbasses believed it."

you blinked slowly, trying to wrap your head around it all. "how did you kill them? was it also using your… powers?"

he smirked. "only to an extent. i used a syringe to pump a few doses of insulin under their tongues. that's why they seemed to die of undiagnosed diabetes."

"what about the roses? what did they signify?"

he tilted his head, leaning down slightly. staring dead into your eyes, he spoke. "why, they symbolized you of course."

you blinked several times, staring at him in shock. "me?"

he raised a brow. "of course, rosie. they symbolize you."

you shook your head. "rosie?"

he stared at you, the look in his eyes causing your heart to practically thump out of your chest. "that's your name. don't you remember?"

you shook your head, stepping back. "what the fuck are you talking about right now?"

he took a step forward, towards you. "don't you remember? you were there when my mother was killed."

your eyes widened. "what?"

he took another step towards you. "she was killed by your mother, after all."

it was as if the entire world stopped. the air was knocked out of you, a dull ringing began in your ears. long back, when you bumped into victoria in the market, she had grabbed you and called you rosie.

rosie! oh my darling rose, i missed you…

an image flashed in front of your eyes. a colorful bedroom, a beautiful woman—your mom—sitting in front of you, gazing at you with the fondest smile, as she fed you neatly sliced and peeled apples. "say aaaah…"

the scene changed. your mother—victoria—arguing with a man. "look at her, she is just a baby! she doesn't deserve this! won't you come back for her sake?"

the scene changed. a different man, your father—seil—teaching you how to make paper airplanes. "and then you throw it into the wind, like that—good job!"

the scene changed again. your mother arguing with another woman. a boy few years older than you stood beside you, watching the scene beside you from the top of the stairs. suddenly, victoria charged at the unfamiliar woman with a knife, stabbing her.

blood splattered onto the floor. the shocked faces of both your mother and the woman imprinted into your brain, as your vision swam. as you fell, the boy looked at you in panic, trying to catch you, but failed. your head hit the ground, and you rolled down the stairs.

you snapped back to reality. jungwon was looming over you with a smirk. he glanced down at your necklace. "is that enough information for your backup, or do they need more?"

the chief looked at the rest of the officers sitting in the car, listening to everything from the tiny mic they had installed in your necklace. "now!"

the entire force burst out of the cars which were parked right outside your house, bursting into your house. the chief screamed into his loud speaker. "you have been surrounded from all sides! do not try to run, or harm ms. ___, as it will only earn you a graver sentence."

there was silence from the microphone on your necklace. having a bad feeling about it, the chief hastily burst into your room, the rest of the force following him.

it was empty. not a single trace of anyone being there. no open windows either. ordering the force to search the entire house, he went towards the bed. your sketchbook lay there, pages flipping due to the wind from the fan.

picking it up, he flipped through them himself. he expected the last sketch to be of jungwon, but he was wrong. squinting, he stared at the last sketch. it was of you, a terrified expression on your face. a small rose was drawn next to your face. on the bottom, a small message was inscribed.

'the beauty of some roses never fade, even after death.'

[rikiiholic]

Fall In Love - y.jw

Kar loon barbaadi main, tere pyar mein

IN WHICH ──── more than heartbreak, falling in love is the scariest feeling you could ever have, especially if it's with Jungwon.

pairings ─ popular!jungwon x nerd!reader

genre: fluff, angst, falling in love, college au, love at first sight warnings: kissing, suggestive, smoking, underage drinking, parties, she fell first he fell harder, two worlds apart, admiring from afar, one sided love at first, reader and jungwon are yearners

It started during your freshman year, back when the campus felt like an alien planet and you were a magnet for embarrassing moments. You spent your first week bumping into upperclassmen and wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

The breaking point came on a Monday. You were already late for class, standing in front of a campus bike with a lock that refused to budge and a bank account that had just hit zero. As panic started to tighten in your chest, a soft ding cut through the noise.

The lock clicked open.

"Wouldn't want to be late on your first week, hm?"

You looked up to see a boy lowering his phone. With his bright blonde hair and effortless posture, he was striking—the kind of handsome that felt instantly intimidating.

"Th-thank you," you stuttered.

Your nerves caught him off guard, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "You must be a first-year, right?"

You could only nod, quickly setting your bag into the bike’s basket to hide your burning cheeks.

"What building are you headed to?" he asked, pulling his phone back out.

"Uh... Colonel Hall." You quickly unlocked your screen and held out your schedule, showing him the building name.

He glanced at the screen, then pointed over his shoulder. "There's a shortcut down that path. If you pedal fast enough, you'll actually make it on time."

"Thank you! Uh..."

"Jungwon," he said, pulling his bag higher onto his shoulder.

"Jungwon," you repeated, testing the sound of it. "Thank you for... you know, paying for my bike."

"Don't worry about it," he replied.

He gave a brief nod before putting his earbuds in, his figure melting into the crowd as he walked back toward the campus apartments.

You stood frozen, your heart performing a wild somersault in your chest. As you stared at the unlocked bike, you realized everything had just changed. From that moment on, he was no longer just a handsome stranger—he was the boy who saved you from being late.

From then on, it felt like he was everywhere. You’d spot him across the crowded dining hall or catch a glimpse of him on your walk back to the dorms, and every single time, your eyes would instantly lock onto him. You couldn't help but admire him. You watched him guide lost freshmen, step in to help struggling students, and offer rides to anyone who needed a lift. That was the thing about Jungwon—he carried himself with a quiet, effortless confidence, but beneath it was a genuine selflessness that you couldn't help but fall for.

It was a terrifying realization. You spent so much of your day thinking about a guy you had only spoken to once, fully aware that you were likely nothing more than a passing thought to him. A crush was already a fragile, frightening thing to carry. But loving someone? Loving Jungwon? That was a completely different kind of danger.

"You okay, Byeol? You've been staring at Jungwon ever since we walked in," Sera said, her voice snapping you out of your daze.

You blinked, forcing a quick smile as you looked over at her. "I was just... zoned out. Sorry."

"It's cute," she said. "What?" you replied, a little breathless from the sudden call-out.

"It's cute that you like him," she explained, giving you a warm, reassuring look. "You wouldn't be the first, anyway. When someone is as popular and kind as Jungwon, falling in love is basically inevitable."

"What's he like?" you asked, closing your laptop and shifting to give her your undivided attention.

"Well, other than being kind, he’s known for being a bit of a frat boy," Sera said, leaning in. "He throws wild parties, drinks, does everything your typical frat boy would do. He's always surrounded by the rich, popular crowd. But even with all that, there’s no denying he’s incredibly attentive and actually considerate of others."

"A frat boy? Seriously?" you asked, your eyebrows shooting up in disbelief.

"Oh, please," Sera rolled her eyes playfully. "Literally every girl on campus has a crush on him. The only reason they don't have the guts to actually ask him out is because Julia, the head of the top sorority, has already made it clear she likes him."

"Does he like her back?" you asked, leaning forward.

Sera shook her head immediately. "He doesn't fall in love easily. She’s been trying to get close to him since last year, but he rejects her every single time. Still, she’s possessive. Whenever anyone else tries to make a move on him, she finds a way to threaten them."

That definitely gave you pause. It was one thing to quietly admire Jungwon from afar—you had no intention of actually confessing to him anyway. But the idea of getting threatened just for being in his orbit? That was a whole different level of scary. You just wanted to survive your freshman year, not star in a campus drama.

"Don't let it scare you," Sera added, noticing your expression. "She's not as terrifying as people make her out to be. Honestly, she's probably just insecure because she knows there are prettier girls out there for him." She gave you a knowing smile. "Like you."

A sudden warmth rushed to your face. "I'm not pretty."

Sera rolled her eyes, completely dismissing the modesty. "That is absolute bullshit. You're gorgeous, Byeol. I literally saw three guys almost trip over their own feet staring at you today."

As students began filtering out of the dining hall, your gaze drifted back to Jungwon. He was in the center of his group of six friends, all of them laughing, shoving, and teasing each other. For a long moment, you were completely captivated by how handsome his smile was—so much so that you almost missed the fresh, sharp scar cutting across his cheek, a quiet reminder of some fight he'd been in earlier.

Sera had successfully dragged you into going to a frat party for post-midterm weekend. It wasn't your cup of tea at all, but between her relentless begging and her boyfriend Riki’s teasing persuasion, you had somehow lost the argument.

"You have to look extra hot," Sera declared, practically burying herself in her closet as she hunted for the perfect outfit.

You watched in mounting dread as she tossed out a string of skimpy clothes—none of which were remote options for you.

"Sera, I'm not pretty enough to wear those," you protested, nervously pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

"Shut up, Byeol," Sera called out, emerging from the closet with a triumphant grin. "I'm helping you. Now change into this."

Before you could object, a slip of a blue dress came flying through the air, landing right in your lap.

"Blue is his favorite color, by the way," Riki chimed in from where he was lounging.

You froze, clutching the fabric of the dress. "Whose?"

"Jungwon's," he replied with a knowing, lazy grin.

Escaping the pressure of their staring eyes, you retreated into the bathroom to change. When you finally stepped back out, adjusting the hem of the blue dress, the room fell quiet for a split second.

Then, Riki let out a low whistle.

Sera’s eyes went wide, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Oh my god, Byeol... you are absolutely beautiful."

You tugged at the hem, trying desperately to pull the blue fabric lower. "Isn't this... a little too short?" you asked, looking at yourself in the mirror with a worried frown.

Sera shook her head, walking over to swat your hands away from the hemline. "It's a frat party, Byeol. You're supposed to look this hot. Trust me, you look amazing."

Before you could argue, she pulled you over to her vanity chair, gently pushing you down in front of the mirror. You watched in a daze as she worked her magic—expertly applying makeup, replacing your glasses with a pair of contacts, and curling your hair. When she finally stepped back to let you see the finished look, your breath hitched.

Sera leaned over your shoulder, her eyes shining in the mirror's vanity lights. "Oh my god... Byeol, you are actually so gorgeous."

———

The party was a chaotic blur of bass, sweaty bodies, and neon lights. To help you relax, Sera and Riki had quickly bypassed the dance floor to get you a drink. After a couple of cups of a sweet, dangerously strong punch, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest finally began to unravel. You actually felt pretty. You felt like you belonged here.

But the illusion didn't last long.

Apologizing to Sera, you headed down a quiet hallway in search of a bathroom. The noise of the bass muffled as you walked further, searching for a vacant door.

That’s when the world seemed to stop spinning.

Standing by a half-open door at the end of the hall was Jungwon, his blonde hair catching the dim hallway light. And wrapped tightly in his arms was Julia.

You couldn't look away, even as a sharp pain bloomed in your chest. You watched as he leaned into her, his hand sliding up her neck as he kissed her passionately. In an instant, the blue dress, the makeup, and the silly hope you'd been carrying all night felt completely foolish.

The happy buzz of the party felt miles away as Sera and Riki walked into the hall. Sera's smile vanished. "Oh, baby," she whispered, her arm instantly wrapping around your shoulder to anchor you as she felt you start to tremble.

Riki stepped forward, his posture rigid. "Jungwon," he said, his voice dripping with deep disappointment. "There's a time and place for everything."

"Yeah, well, it's a party, Nishimura. This is the time and place," Julia scoffed, brushing past Jungwon to confront Riki face-to-face. She crossed her arms, her eyes flicking over to you and Sera. A cold, recognizing sneer touched her lips when she noticed how you were dressed. "Why are you guys lingering in the hallway anyway? Looking for a show?"

You shrunk back, but Jungwon’s eyes immediately snapped to you, his gaze lingering on the blue dress as a heavy, tense silence filled the corridor.

Jungwon remained quiet, his dark eyes slowly tracing over you. He took in every detail—from the delicate makeup to the way the provocative blue dress hugged your curves—and a sudden, sharp possessiveness crept up in his chest.

"Don't talk to him like that, Julia," he said, his voice dropping into a chilling, quiet tone.

Julia snapped her head back toward him, her jaw dropping in utter shock. "But, baby—"

"I'm not your baby," he cut her off coldly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Leave."

Julia’s face twisted into an ugly pout. She stomped her foot, huffing in frustration. As she stormed past, she threw a venomous glare over her shoulder. "This is your fault," she hissed at Sera, before her heels clattered furiously down the hallway.

The roaring bass of the party felt like a distant hum from where you sat next to Jungwon at the kitchen counter. The silence stretched between you, heavy and awkward, and you stared down at your hands, completely lost for words.

"Sorry for what you had to see," Jungwon said softly.

You looked up, caught off guard. He was watching you closely, studying your reaction.

"She wouldn't leave me alone unless I kissed her," he added simply. His voice was quiet, completely stripped of his usual playful attitude, and it was laced with a raw truth that made your heart skip a beat.

"You're the girl with the bike," Jungwon said, the realization suddenly lighting up his eyes as he looked at you. "The one I paid for."

Memories of your chaotic first day of college came rushing back—the embarrassing crash, his unexpected kindness, and the lingering warmth he'd left behind. "Yeah..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never drifting from your face. "I never did get your name."

You looked down, suddenly finding the floor very interesting as a blush crept up your neck. "It's Byeol."

"Byeol," he murmured, his voice wrapping around your name like a quiet secret. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you forget how to breathe. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

Your breath hitched. First Sera, and now him? You definitely weren't prepared for Jungwon to look at you like you were the only person in the room.

The praise hung heavily in the space between you, sweet and dizzying. You swallowed hard, desperate to find some sort of anchor before you completely dissolved under his gaze.

"Thank you," you managed to whisper, your fingers tightly interlaced. Desperate to steer the attention away from your burning cheeks, your eyes involuntarily flicked upward, landing on the faint, raw mark on his cheekbone that you had noticed earlier in the dining hall.

Up close, the scar was much more prominent. It was a jagged, pale line cutting through his otherwise flawless skin—a quiet proof of the rougher, darker world he apparently walked in when he wasn't playing the golden-boy campus idol.

Jungwon noticed the direction of your gaze. Instead of flinching or trying to hide it, he slowly traced the jagged line with the tip of his finger, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

"Ah. You're looking at this," he murmured, his voice dropping to a quieter, more intimate tone.

"I'm sorry," you stammered, heat rushing to your face as you tried to look away. "I really didn't mean to stare."

"It's fine, Byeol," he said gently, leaning a bit closer on the counter so his shoulder was almost brushing yours. "Usually, people just whisper about it behind my back and make up some wild story. I’d much rather you just look."

He let his hand drop, his dark eyes holding yours.

"I got it last weekend," he explained quietly. "There was a guy at a diner off-campus who was getting aggressive with one of the freshman girls. She was clearly uncomfortable and trying to leave, but he wouldn't let her go. I stepped in to pull her away, the guy lost his temper and took a swing at me, and his ring caught my cheek."

Jungwon gave a small, casual shrug, though his gaze remained intensely focused on your reaction. "It looks a lot worse than it actually was. But I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

The sheer honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. The campus rumors always painted him as a reckless, hot-tempered guy who looked for trouble, but sitting here with him now, you realized the truth was entirely different. He was just someone who couldn't stand by and watch someone else get hurt.

You reach out, your thumb grazing the scar. The moment your thumb brushed against his skin, the noise of the entire party seemed to completely cut out.

Your touch was incredibly gentle, a featherlight warmth tracing the jagged edge of the healing cut. Underneath your fingertip, you felt the sudden, sharp hitch in his chest as his entire body went completely still. He didn't pull away. He didn't even blink.

Jungwon’s eyes widened, his usual cool, untouchable facade instantly cracking. For all his smooth talk and effortless charm, this simple, quiet gesture caught him completely off guard. Inside his chest, his heart did a sudden, violent summersault, hammering against his ribs so loudly he was certain you could hear it.

He stared down at you, his dark eyes locked onto yours, utterly captivated by the soft, genuine worry in your expression. Nobody touched him like this—not to soothe, and certainly not with this kind of raw, quiet tenderness.

"Byeol..." he whispered, his voice suddenly sounding a little breathless, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping right back up to your eyes.

"S-Sorry" you say, pulling your hand away.

The sudden loss of your warmth left a cold patch on his cheek. Jungwon’s hand twitched slightly on the counter, as if his first instinct was to reach out and catch your retreating fingers before you could pull them completely out of reach.

Your face burned a brilliant crimson. You stared down at your lap, your fingers instantly tangling together in your lap as you wished the kitchen floor would just open up and swallow you. Why did you do that? You barely knew him, yet you had just reached out and touched him like—

"Don't be," Jungwon said softly, cutting off your spiraling thoughts.

When you reluctantly looked up, you didn't see any annoyance or tease in his eyes. Instead, his expression was incredibly gentle, his dark eyes searching yours with a quiet intensity.

"You don't ever have to apologize for that, Byeol," he murmured.

He raised his own hand, his fingertips lightly covering the spot on his cheekbone where yours had just been, a soft, genuine smile returning to his lips. "If anything... I think it actually stopped hurting just now."

The heavy, humid air of the kitchen and the thumping bass of that sophomore frat party felt like a lifetime ago. Two years had passed, blurring into a whirlwind of late-night study sessions, endless cups of coffee, and the quiet rhythm of university life.

Now, you were in your junior year, finally finding your footing and feeling far more grounded than the shy girl who had nervously tugged at a short blue dress.

A lot had changed since then. Jungwon had graduated, trading the chaotic campus life for the structured, exhausting routine of a corporate job and grad school. He was entirely focused on his future now, navigating a world of professional responsibilities that kept him miles away from the undergraduate bubble. You hadn't seen him—or touched the faint trace of his cheekbone scar—since those college days.

Sera and Riki, however, were still your constants.

Though Riki was the youngest of his group of six close friends, he was the only one left on campus as a senior, preparing to finally cross the graduation stage at the end of this year. Sera, of course, was as fiercely devoted to him as ever, her loud, protective energy keeping your little trio tight-knit even as the older boys drifted into their post-grad lives.

Yet, as you sat in the campus library, staring down at your open textbook, your mind drifted. Riki's upcoming graduation meant the end of an era—and with all of his old friends bound to return for the ceremony, it was only a matter of time before the past caught up with the present.

The quiet of your apartment was suddenly broken by the sharp buzz of Riki’s phone vibrating on the coffee table.

Sera was curled up on the other end of the couch, scrolling through her phone, while you were trying to pretend to focus on your laptop. Riki reached over, picking up the device, but he didn't answer it immediately. Instead, he stared at the screen, his expression shifting into something quiet and deliberate.

He looked up, his gaze locking directly onto yours.

"It's Jay Hyung," Riki said, his deep voice cutting through the silence of the room.

A sudden, sharp knot formed in your stomach. Riki didn't need to explain why he was looking at you like that. You all knew the unspoken rule of their friend group—wherever Jay was, Jungwon was never far behind. If Jay was calling Riki, it meant the post-grad boys were officially back in town, and Jungwon was likely sitting right beside him.

Sera’s head snapped up instantly, her protective best-friend radar pinging as her eyes darted between you and her boyfriend.

"Put it on speaker, babe," Sera said softly, though her eyes remained fixed on your face, watching for your reaction.

Riki glanced at you one last time, a silent warning in his eyes, before tapping the screen to accept the FaceTime call.

Immediately, the bright, high-definition screen lit up, showing Jay’s familiar, handsome face. He was in the passenger seat of a car, the streetlights of the familiar campus strip reflecting off his sunglasses as he grinned.

"Hey Riki! How's our little brother doing?" Jay asked, his voice booming through the speaker. He tilted the camera slightly to the left, revealing the driver's seat. "I'm with Jungwon right now, we're close to campus if you're not busy."

Your breath caught.

There he was. Jungwon’s profile was sharp against the dim light of the car interior. He had his eyes on the road, one hand casual on the steering wheel, wearing a tailored dark coat that made him look every bit the corporate post-grad he now was. But as soon as Jay mentioned being close to campus, Jungwon darted a quick, curious glance toward the phone screen.

The moment his eyes registered the background of your apartment—and then, inevitably, you sitting on the couch next to Sera—he froze.

The cool, professional composure he’d been wearing instantly flickered, his dark eyes widening slightly in surprise as he looked at you through the screen for the first time in two years.

"Yes actually! Sera, Byeol, and I were just about to bake some cookies," Riki said, his tone casual but his eyes gleaming with a hint of mischief as he looked at the screen.

On the other end of the line, Jay’s face instantly lit up. "Cookies? Seriously? You can't just say that to two starving grad students who have been living off convenience store ramen and caffeine for the last month."

He immediately turned the camera fully toward Jungwon, capturing his reaction.

Jungwon’s grip on the steering wheel visibly tightened. His eyes darted from the road to the phone screen, locking directly onto you. The cool, exhausted expression he had been wearing just moments ago completely vanished, replaced by a sudden, intense focus.

"Cookies, huh?" Jay teased, nudging Jungwon's shoulder. "Hey, Jungwon, aren't you suddenly craving something sweet? And look, Byeol is there too. We haven't seen her in forever."

Jungwon cleared his throat, his voice low and smooth as it filtered through the speaker—sounding deeper and more mature than you remembered from two years ago.

"If... if it's not a bother," Jungwon said, his dark eyes holding yours through the screen, a quiet, hesitant hope flickering in them. "We could bring over some drinks? Or help you guys bake."

Sera immediately nudged your elbow with her shoulder, a massive, knowing smirk spreading across her face. The quiet apartment suddenly felt very warm, and your heart was already racing at the thought of Jungwon standing in your kitchen in just a few minutes.

"It's no issue!" Sera says quickly "hurry and come, bring back some coke if you can"

"Got it. Coke and cookies, a classic," Jay laughed, giving a mock salute to the camera. "We'll stop by the convenience store on the corner and be there in five. See you guys!"

With a quick wave, the screen went black, leaving the apartment suddenly, deafeningly quiet.

Sera instantly threw her head back on the couch cushion, a victorious grin spreading across her face. "Oh, this is perfect. A little reunion," she said, nudging your shoulder playfully. "And did you see the way he looked at you the second your face popped up on the screen? Two years and the boy still looks like he saw a ghost. A very pretty ghost."

"Sera, stop," you mumbled, your cheeks instantly burning as you stood up and headed toward the kitchen to hide your face.

Your heart was pounding against your ribs. Two years. You had spent the last two years convincing yourself that the quiet, hyper-charged moment in the kitchen during your freshman year was just a fleeting college memory. But now, he was on his way to your apartment.

Riki followed you into the kitchen, a faint, knowing smile on his face as he opened the pantry to grab the baking ingredients. "He looked good," Riki noted quietly, glancing at you. "A lot busier, but... he hasn't changed as much as you think, Byeol."

"I highly doubt he cares Riki.. he didn't even message me once he graduated"

Riki paused, the bag of flour still in his hand as he looked at you. The easy, teasing atmosphere in the kitchen suddenly softened, replaced by a quiet, heavy reality.

Sera’s playful grin instantly faded. She got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen, leaning against the counter next to you. "Hey," she said gently, bumping her shoulder against yours. "Is that why you've been so quiet about him?"

"I'm just being realistic," you muttered, keeping your eyes on the mixing bowl. "He got his degree, started his life, and completely moved on. We had one nice talk at a party two years ago. It’s not like we were dating."

"He didn't message you because he thought he'd lost his chance, Byeol," Riki said quietly.

You looked up, caught off guard by his serious tone.

Riki set the flour down on the counter and sighed. "I talk to Jungwon Hyung all the time. After he graduated, he went straight into a sixteen-hour-a-day grind between his corporate job and grad school. He told me once that he felt like he'd completely ghosted on the life he had here. He didn't think he had the right to just pop back into your inbox after months of silence without looking like a jerk."

Before you could process Riki's words, the sharp, distinct sound of the apartment buzzer rang through the air.

Your stomach did a violent flip. They were here.

"That's probably not true, he's just trying to be nice"

"Byeol," Sera said, her voice dropping all its usual teasing playfulness as she stepped closer, grabbing your wrists to stop your frantic hands from organizing the baking bowls. "Look at me."

You reluctantly met her eyes, your chest tight with a mix of anxiety and stubborn self-preservation.

"Jungwon is a lot of things," Sera said softly but firmly, "but he is not a 'charity' nice guy. He doesn't do things just to be polite. If he didn't care, he wouldn't have looked at the screen like he just found water in a desert."

"She's right," Riki added from the doorway, his hand resting on the intercom button. "Trust me on this. But you can ask him yourself in a second."

Riki pressed the buzzer to let them up, and the heavy click of the building's downstairs door unlocking echoed through your small apartment.

Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Within three minutes, the elevator would open on your floor, and Jungwon would be standing right in front of you. Two years of quiet, unresolved questions were about to walk straight through your front door.

"Okay," Sera whispered, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to give you some space. "Deep breaths. We're just baking cookies."

The heavy click of the apartment lock turning made you freeze.

When the front door swung open, Jay walked in first, his loud, boisterous laughter instantly filling the quiet entryway. But your eyes immediately locked on the figure standing right behind him.

You held your breath.

Jungwon stepped into the apartment, and for a second, it felt like two years had evaporated into thin air. He looked breathtakingly familiar, yet undeniably different. His blonde hair was swept back, styled with a casual precision that showed off the sharp, striking lines of his jaw and cheekbones.

He had filled out a little, his shoulders broader under the dark, tailored wool coat he wore over a simple black sweater. The youthful, boyish edge he’d carried as a college sophomore had hardened into something far more grounded and mature—the quiet confidence of a man who was finding his place in the world.

Yet, as he stepped over the threshold and kicked off his shoes, his dark eyes scanned the room, bypassing Riki and Sera entirely.

The moment his gaze landed on you, he stopped.

The mature, collected exterior he’d walked in with suddenly cracked. His eyes softened, his lips parting slightly in a silent, breathless recognition as he looked at you standing there in your kitchen, a mixing bowl still in your hands.

"Hey, Byeol," he said, his voice lower and richer than you remembered, yet carrying that same gentle tone that had kept you awake two years ago.

"H-Hi" you stutter, just like the day you first met

The stutter slipped out before you could stop it, instantly transporting both of you back to the crowded, humid kitchen of that sophomore frat party. Your face burned, a fresh wave of mortification washing over you as you squeezed the mixing bowl in your hands just a little tighter.

Jungwon paused. For a split second, his eyes softened even further, a quiet, nostalgic warmth flooding his gaze. The corner of his mouth slowly curved into that familiar, dimpled smile you had spent the last two years trying to forget.

"Hey," Jay’s loud voice broke the sudden spell as he walked past Jungwon, holding up a plastic bag. "We got the Coke! Riki, show me where the cups are, I'm parched."

Sera immediately caught Jay's arm, steering him and Riki toward the dining table with a sharp, knowing look. They slipped away, deliberately leaving the two of you standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

Suddenly, the space between you felt incredibly small.

Jungwon took a slow, deliberate step forward, slipping his hands into the pockets of his dark coat. The faint scent of the crisp night air and a subtle, sophisticated cologne drifted over to you, wrapping around you like a physical presence.

"Still stuttering when you see me, Byeol?" he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate register meant only for your ears.

He stopped just a couple of feet away, close enough that you had to tilt your head up slightly to meet his eyes. Up close, you could see the faint, silvery trace on his cheekbone—the scar you had gently touched two years ago, now completely healed but still a quiet, permanent mark.

His dark eyes locked onto yours, searching your face with an intensity that made your heart do that familiar, chaotic summersault.

"I was worried you'd be mad at me," he confessed softly, his chest rising with a quiet, heavy sigh. "For... not reaching out after I graduated."

"No no it's okay! Yo-you're not obligated too"

Your frantic, polite defense tumbled out of your mouth, and you immediately wanted to take it back. You're not obligated to. It sounded so formal, so distant—like you were trying to draw a neat, polite line between you, as if the memory of your touch on his cheek had never happened.

Jungwon didn't move, but the dimpled smile on his face faded, replaced by something much more quiet and intense. He took one more step closer, closing the remaining distance until he was standing just at the edge of the kitchen counter, shielding you from the view of the living room where Jay and Sera’s voices faded into background noise.

"Obligated?" he repeated, the word sounding heavy on his tongue.

He took his hands out of his coat pockets. For a second, his fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out, but he kept them at his side. His dark eyes searched yours, incredibly earnest.

"I didn't stay silent because I felt 'obligated' to move on, Byeol," he said, his voice dropping to a low, rough whisper. "I stayed silent because I was terrified."

He gave a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, shaking his head slightly.

"I walked straight into a sixteen-hour-a-day grind the second I graduated. I felt like a ghost, just moving between an office and a library. And every time I picked up my phone to text you, I stopped. I thought... 'She’s still at university, living her life. What right do I have to drag her into my mess when I don't even have time to breathe?'"

Jungwon leaned down slightly, bringing his face level with yours, his eyes locked onto yours with absolute sincerity.

"I didn't want to be a distraction. But I never, ever wanted you to think I didn't care."

Your chest tightened, a sudden, breath-stealing flutter blooming behind your ribs. You stared up at him, completely defenseless against the sheer honesty pouring from his eyes.

For two years, you had built up a wall of logic to protect yourself. You had convinced yourself that you were just a fleeting, insignificant blip in his busy life. But hearing him lay it all out—confessing that he had held back out of a quiet, protective fear of dragging you down—shattered every single defense you had painstakingly put in place.

"Jungwon..." you breathed, his name slipping out of your mouth before you could stop it, soft and fragile.

The kitchen around you seemed to shrink until there was nothing else but the hum of the refrigerator, the distant, muffled sound of Jay laughing in the living room, and the intense warmth of Jungwon’s presence standing right in front of you.

He noticed the shift in your eyes, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before rushing back up to lock onto yours. He took a tiny, cautious step closer, his hand rising from his side to rest lightly on the edge of the kitchen counter, just a hair’s breadth away from where your hand gripped the mixing bowl.

"I thought about you a lot, Byeol," he murmured, his voice so quiet it was almost a confession. "More than I should have."

Hearing him say it was one thing, but looking into his eyes, you realized he wasn’t just saying it to be sweet. He was completely, utterly serious.

For the past two years, Jungwon’s life had been a relentless, exhausting blur of demanding professors, endless corporate spreadsheets, and high-pressure projects that kept him awake until the sun rose. By all accounts, his brain should have been entirely occupied by his career and his degree.

Instead, it had been occupied by you.

During those grueling sixteen-hour days, whenever he was staring at a glowing laptop screen at 3:00 AM, or sitting through a dry lecture, his mind would inevitably drift back to campus. He’d wonder what you were studying, if you were eating well, or if you still wore that soft shade of blue. He had spent the last two years so thoroughly preoccupied by thoughts of you that, looking back, he honestly didn’t even understand how he had managed to graduate or keep his job. You had been his quiet, constant anchor in the middle of all his chaos, even from afar.

"I’m serious," he whispered, his eyes searching yours as if trying to convey two years' worth of unspoken thoughts in a single look. "There were days I’d be staring at a project for hours, and the only thing running through my head was how you were doing. It was... actually a little ridiculous how much you were on my mind."

He let out a soft, breathy laugh, his fingers on the counter twitching just a fraction closer to yours.

"So please," he murmured, his voice dropping to an incredibly gentle, pleading tone. "Don't ever think I just moved on."

All of those thoughts rushed through your mind in a silent, overwhelming wave.

For the last two years, you had been terrified that you’d never see him again. You’d spent countless nights wondering if he had found a girlfriend, if he was living a bright, busy life where you were nothing more than a blurry, forgotten memory. You didn’t even understand why it still affected you this deeply, but the truth was, you had waited. You had fallen so hard for him that night in the kitchen that you hadn't known how to move on, choosing instead to keep a quiet, painful vigil in your heart.

But you couldn't bring yourself to say any of it out loud.

The raw vulnerability of those thoughts felt too massive, too terrifying to lay bare in the middle of your brightly lit kitchen with Sera and Jay just a room away. If you confessed all of that now, there would be no going back.

So, you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing the overwhelming rush of emotion back down. You looked down at your hands, which were still tightly gripping the edges of the plastic mixing bowl, your knuckles turning slightly white.

"I... I didn't think you'd remember me that clearly," you whispered, your voice quiet and heavily guarded, a sharp contrast to the storm raging inside your chest. "With how busy your life got. I just figured... you had more important things to focus on."

Jungwon’s eyes searched your face, tracking the subtle shift in your posture, the way you suddenly closed yourself off. He was incredibly perceptive; he could clearly tell there was a massive chasm between what you were feeling and what you were actually letting him see.

The tension in the air stretched, thick and almost tangible.

Instead of pushing you, Jungwon slowly reached out. He didn't cup your cheek or make a grand gesture. Instead, he simply placed his hand on the counter, his index finger gently brushing against the side of your hand where it gripped the bowl.

It was a tiny, fleeting point of contact, but it sent a jolt of warmth straight up your arm.

"There's nothing more important than this, Byeol," he said softly, his voice a low, steady promise. He didn't bridge the physical gap between you entirely, but the intensity in his dark eyes made it feel like he was holding you anyway. "I'm not going to let two years of silence happen again. I promise."

Jungwon had always been someone who moved through life with a quiet, deliberate focus, rarely distracted by his surroundings. But that chilly afternoon on campus, everything changed with a single glance.

He was walking back to his apartment after a grueling three-hour lecture, his head down as he aimlessly scrolled through his phone just to kill the time. The campus was busy, a blur of students rushing past him, until his eyes caught on a figure standing near the bike-share rack.

He stopped in his tracks.

You were standing there, looking utterly defeated by a stubborn metal bicycle. He had never seen anyone so pretty in his life.

You had a pair of round glasses sitting slightly low on the bridge of your nose, and your eyebrows were knitted together in deep, adorable distress as you stared at your phone screen, frantically tapping at the bike-share app. A cold breeze blew a strand of hair across your face, and you tucked it behind your ear with a frustrated sigh, completely unaware of how breathtaking you looked in that exact moment of quiet chaos.

Jungwon’s heart did something strange and sudden—a sharp, heavy thud against his ribs that actually startled him.

Without a second thought, his feet started moving before his brain could even formulate an excuse. He didn't want you to be stressed, and more than anything, he desperately wanted a reason to talk to you.

As he closed the distance, he quickly opened the same ride-share app on his own phone. He stepped up beside you just as you let out another quiet, desperate huff.

"Here," he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the sudden rush of adrenaline.

Before you could even look up, he reached out and scanned the QR code on the bike frame with his phone. Within a second, the heavy metal lock gave a loud, satisfying click, freeing the bike.

He slid his phone back into his pocket, his heart hammering against his ribs as you finally looked up at him through those low-hanging glasses, your wide, startled eyes locking onto his for the very first time.

Even then, he was already completely goner.

"Th-thank you," you stuttered, your voice so soft and quiet it was almost swallowed by the chilly autumn wind.

The sudden tremor in your voice caught him completely off guard. Up close, you looked even smaller, your wide eyes blinking up at him through those round lenses. Your nerves were so raw, so incredibly transparent, that he felt a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips before he could even try to play it cool.

"You must be a first-year, right?" He asked, keeping his voice low and gentle. He didn't want to startle you any more than he already had.

Instead of answering, you just gave a quick, flustered nod. You practically threw your bag into the bike’s wire basket, your head ducking so low your hair fell forward. But you weren't fast enough to hide the bright, rosy flush creeping up your neck and painting your cheeks.

Cute, he thought, a strange, warm flutter blooming in his chest. It was ridiculous how quickly you were getting to him without even trying.

"What building are you headed to?" He asked, pulling his phone back out. Honestly, he knew every single square inch of this campus by heart. He didn't need a map. He just desperately wanted an excuse to stand there with you for a few seconds longer, to hear you speak again.

"Uh... Colonel Hall," you murmured.

Before he could even offer to give you directions, you quickly unlocked your phone and held it out toward him. Your hand was trembling slightly as you pointed to your schedule, showing him the digital map and the building name.

He leaned in, pretending to study your screen. But as he did, the faint, sweet scent of your perfume drifted over to him, and his eyes drifted from the screen to your small, delicate fingers gripping the phone.

He had never been the type to believe in clichés, but standing there under the campus trees, looking at your flushed face, he realized he was already completely, hopelessly lost.

His mind was still completely occupied by you long after you rode away on that bike. He hadn't even gotten your name, but those wide eyes behind your glasses were burned into his brain.

A few weeks later, the only thing anyone on campus could talk about was the massive party Heeseung wanted to throw at the Enhypen frat house.

Honestly, he didn't want to go. He dreaded the thought of it—specifically, he dreaded having to deal with the exhausting, superficial crowd, and finding ways to dodge Julia. She had been hovering around him for weeks, and he just didn't have the energy to politely decline her all night in a crowded room. He was ready to lock himself in his room with a stack of textbooks and call it a night.

But then Jay barged into his room, throwing a clean shirt at his face and refusing to take no for an answer.

"Come on, Jungwon," Jay had groaned, leaning against his desk. "You've been acting like a hermit. One drink, and if you hate it, I'll let you escape back to your cave."

With a defeated sigh, he finally agreed, throwing on a black jacket and heading downstairs.

The house was already packed to the brim, the bass rattling the floorboards. He kept his head down, grabbing a drink and trying to blend into the shadows near the kitchen, desperately hoping the night would pass quickly.

He had no idea that you—the girl he’d been secretly looking for in every crowd for the last three weeks—were about to walk right through the front door.

He gripped the condensation-slicked glass in his hand, the pounding bass of the living room vibrating through his chest, but his mind was still miles away. He was thinking of you. He wondered if you were somewhere on campus studying, or if you were already asleep, completely unaware of how heavily you were weighing on his thoughts.

"Hi, baby," a voice purred beside him.

He didn't even have to look to know who it was. He rolled his eyes, a heavy sigh slipping past his lips as he took a slow sip of his drink.

"I'm not your baby, Julia," he said, his voice flat and entirely devoid of interest.

Julia just giggled, completely unfazed by the cold shoulder. She leaned against the bar, trying to catch his downcast gaze. "Oh, come on. Don't be so boring, cutie."

"Leave me alone," he replied, his tone hardening as he deliberately turned his shoulder to her, facing away from the bar to scan the crowded room. He just wanted to find Jay, tell him he was leaving, and go back to his quiet room where he could think about you in peace.

But Julia wasn't taking the hint. She stepped into his line of sight again, a playful, stubborn pout on her lips.

"Only if you kiss me."

That's how he found himself pinning her against the wall near the bathroom, kissing her with frustration. "Jungwon," he heard riki say, his voice dripping with deep disappointment. "There's a time and place for everything."

"Yeah, well, it's a party, Nishimura. This is the time and place," Julia scoffed, brushing past Jungwon to confront Riki face-to-face. She crossed her arms, her eyes flicking over to you and Sera. A cold, recognizing sneer touched her lips when she noticed how you were dressed. "Why are you guys lingering in the hallway anyway? Looking for a show?"

You shrunk back, but Jungwon’s eyes immediately snapped to you, his gaze lingering on the blue dress as a heavy, tense silence filled the corridor.

The air in the narrow hallway turned suffocatingly thick.

Under the dim, flickering hallway lights, Jungwon felt a sudden, cold wave of reality crash over him. The heat of frustration that had driven him to pin Julia to the wall just to get her to stop pestering him evaporated instantly, leaving behind a hollow, bitter taste.

He didn't care about Julia's defensive scoffing. He didn't even care about the sharp sting of Riki's disappointment.

Because his eyes had just landed on you.

You were standing right there behind Riki, trying to shrink back into the shadows of the corridor, looking smaller than ever. And you were wearing a soft, dusty blue dress—the exact shade he had spent the last three weeks picturing in his head.

Jungwon’s heart stopped. It was you.

The girl from the bike rack. The girl with the low-hanging glasses and the flushed cheeks who had completely ruined his focus for twenty-one days straight. You were actually here, standing in his house, witnessing him in the middle of this toxic, messy drama.

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the corridor.

Julia was still sneering, waiting for a reaction, but Jungwon didn't even hear her. His gaze locked onto you, lingering on the blue fabric of your dress before slowly rising to meet your eyes. The realization of what you must be thinking—what he must look like to you right now—hit him like a physical blow to the chest.

For the first time all night, the cool, indifferent facade he wore like armor completely cracked, replaced by a sudden, desperate panic.

"Don't talk to him like that, Julia," he said, his voice dropping into a chilling, quiet tone.

Julia snapped her head back toward him, her jaw dropping in utter shock. "But, baby—"

"I'm not your baby," he cut her off coldly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Leave."

...

"Sorry for what you had to see," He said softly.

You looked up, caught off guard. He was watching you closely, studying your reaction.

"She wouldn't leave me alone unless I kissed her," he added simply. His voice was quiet, completely stripped of his usual playful attitude, and it was laced with a raw truth that made your heart skip a beat.

"You're the girl with the bike," Jungwon said, the realization suddenly lighting up his eyes as he looked at you. "The one I paid for."

Memories of your chaotic first day of college came rushing back—the embarrassing crash, his unexpected kindness, and the lingering warmth he'd left behind. "Yeah..." you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a slow sip of his drink, his gaze never drifting from your face. "I never did get your name."

You looked down, suddenly finding the floor very interesting as a blush crept up your neck. "It's Byeol."

"Byeol," he murmured, his voice wrapping around your name like a quiet secret his heart racing like no other. He leaned in just a fraction closer, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made you forget how to breathe. "A pretty name for a pretty girl."

"The cookies are almost done," Sera’s voice called out from the living room, sharp enough to break the quiet, heavy bubble that had wrapped around the two of you.

Jungwon blinked, suddenly snapping out of his daze.

While he was still processing the quiet distance you were keeping, you had stepped back over to the counter to check on the oven. Jay had wandered into the kitchen, immediately cracking some ridiculous joke that actually made you break into a genuine laugh.

Jungwon’s gaze followed you. Standing a few feet back, he watched as you smiled warmly at his friend. Your laugh was soft, and your smile—bright, effortless, and entirely unguarded—struck him with a sudden, quiet ache. To him, seeing you like this, in the same room, looking so incredibly pretty and real after two years of existing only in his memories, felt completely surreal.

He wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. He wanted to be the reason your eyes crinkled at the corners.

Slowly, Jungwon walked over to the counter, stepping up next to Jay. He kept his movements casual, but his eyes never left your face.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his voice low and quiet, trying to thread his way back into your space.

"I was just telling her about that time you confessed to your crush in middle school" Jay says, Jungwon tensing a little "hyung.. it was embarrassing" he says but you thought it was cute "I actually think it's cute"

At your words, Jungwon’s eyes snapped directly to yours.

The embarrassment that had tensed his shoulders seemed to melt away, replaced by a quiet, flustered surprise. A faint, warm color crept up his neck, standing out against his blonde hair. He stared at you, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, completely caught off guard by your defense.

"You... you do?" he asked softly. He ignored Jay entirely, his focus narrowing down to just you once again.

"Oh, look at him," Jay laughed, nudging Jungwon’s shoulder with his elbow. "One word from Byeol and suddenly he’s not embarrassed anymore. Where was this energy when I was teasing you in the car, huh?"

Sera walked back into the kitchen, holding a pair of oven mitts and wearing a knowing grin. "Exactly. Besides, middle school confessions are always a disaster. It builds character." She slid past Jay and opened the oven door, letting the warm, sweet scent of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies flood the kitchen. "Alright, they're done. Jungwon, grab those cooling racks from the cabinet. Let's see if your baking skills have improved since college."

Jungwon tore his eyes away from you, clearing his throat as he reached up to open the cabinet Sera pointed to. Even as he reached for the racks, his shoulder lightly brushed against yours in the narrow kitchen space.

It was a small, accidental touch, but he paused for a fraction of a second, his side lingering against yours just a beat longer than necessary before he pulled back with a quiet, appreciative glance.

The lively chatter of the evening finally wound down, leaving the apartment quiet and heavy with sleep.

Jay had claimed the spare room, immediately crashing after a long day. Riki and Sera bid you both a quiet, knowing goodnight before retreating to their shared room, leaving a lingering, charged silence in their wake.

Now, it was just the two of you in the living room.

The only light came from the soft, warm glow of the corner lamp, casting long shadows across the floor. Jungwon sat on the opposite end of the couch, having shed his heavy wool coat. In his simple black sweater, he looked relaxed, yet there was a quiet tension in the way he sat, his dark eyes fixed on his hands before slowly drifting up to meet yours.

The space between you on the cushions felt both incredibly small and miles wide.

"They turned out really well," Jungwon murmured, his voice incredibly low in the quiet apartment, breaking the silence. "The cookies, I mean."

He offered a small, tentative smile, but his eyes held that same intense, searching look from earlier—the look of someone who had waited two years for this exact moment and was trying desperately not to rush it.

"yeah.. Sera is serious when it comes to perfecting something" you reply

Jungwon let out a soft, breathy laugh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I can tell. She hasn't changed at all."

His laugh quietly died down, leaving the gentle hum of the apartment to settle between you again. He shifted slightly on the couch, turning his body to face you. He rested his arm along the back of the sofa, not quite touching you, but bridging the distance just enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"And you?" he asked quietly, his dark eyes locking onto yours, steady and unblinking in the dim light. "Have you been trying to perfect anything these past two years?"

The question felt loaded, hanging in the warm space between you. He wasn't just asking about your classes or hobbies. His gaze was heavy, searching your face for any sign of the girl he had left behind, and trying to read the guarded walls you had put up tonight.

"not really, I think i grasped topics really well, what about you?"

"I survived," Jungwon said, a quiet, self-deprecating smile pulling at the corner of his lips. "But honestly? I think I spent the last two years just trying to keep my head above water."

He looked down at his hand resting on the back of the couch, his fingers tracing a invisible pattern on the fabric. The dim light of the lamp caught the sharp angle of his jaw, making him look incredibly tired but strikingly handsome.

"I kept telling myself that if I just worked hard enough, if I got the promotion and finished the degree, everything would make sense," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, intimate frequency.

He slowly lifted his head, his dark eyes locking back onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

"But the truth is, no matter how much I grasped or how busy I got... there was always this quiet space in my head. And nothing I did could quite fill it."

He paused, the silence stretching between you, thick with two years of unsaid things. He didn't move closer, keeping the distance slow and agonizingly deliberate, but his gaze felt like a physical touch.

"I think I was just waiting to come back here," he whispered.

"do you want something to drink? the cookies made me thirsty" you ask

"Yeah," Jungwon said softly, the heavy intensity in his eyes instantly shifting into a warm, gentle gaze. "Something to drink sounds perfect."

He started to push himself up from the couch, but he paused, looking down at you as if waiting to see if you'd let him help.

"I can get it," he offered, his voice low and incredibly quiet in the silent room. "Just sit. What do you want? Water, or is there some of that juice Jay brought left?"

You scrambled up from the couch so fast you nearly tripped over your own feet, slipping past him before he could even fully stand.

"No, no, I can get it!" you insisted, your voice a little too high, a little too hurried.

You practically bolted the few steps into the kitchen, desperately needing the physical distance to let your racing heart catch up with you. The cool linoleum floor beneath your socks felt grounding, a sharp contrast to the suffocatingly warm, heavy air of the living room. You opened the fridge, letting the cool, bright light wash over your face as you pretended to deeply analyze the beverage selection.

Behind you, still sitting on the edge of the couch, Jungwon let out a quiet, breathless laugh.

He watched your hasty retreat, shaking his head slightly as he settled back against the cushions. The panicked rush of your voice, the way you darted away the moment things got a little too quiet—it was so entirely you. After two years of dealing with stiff corporate colleagues and calculated academic peers, your genuine, flustered reactions were the most refreshing thing he had experienced in a long time.

He rested his chin in his hand, a warm, soft smile tugging at his lips as he stared at the kitchen doorway, waiting for you to come back.

You stared up at the top shelf of the cabinet, your heart sinking. Of course. The drinking glasses were pushed all the way to the back, completely out of your reach.

"Fuck," you mumbled under your breath, standing on your tiptoes and stretching your arm as far as it would go. Your fingertips barely brushed the smooth glass.

"Need some help?"

The quiet, deep voice sounded right behind you, making you jump.

Before you could turn around, a warm presence closed the distance. Jungwon stepped up right behind you, his chest almost brushing against your back. The faint, clean scent of his cologne wrapped around you instantly.

He reached up, his long arm extending easily over your shoulder. His black sleeve brushed against your hair as his hand effortlessly grasped two of the glasses from the very back of the shelf. He was so close you could feel the steady warmth radiating from him, trapping you gently between his body and the kitchen counter.

He didn't pull back immediately. Instead, he held the glasses just above your shoulder, tilting his head down slightly so his breath fanned the side of your neck.

"You know, you could have just asked," he murmured, a quiet, amused smile in his voice.

Your breath hitched, the soft sound catching in your throat as the realization of his closeness fully registered. The space between you had completely evaporated.

Jungwon didn't move a muscle to retreat. Slowly, deliberately, he set the two glasses down on the counter next to you with a quiet, solid clink.

But instead of stepping back, he shifted.

He placed one hand flat on the counter right beside your hip, and the other on the edge of the cabinet door just above your shoulder, effectively boxing you in. The movement was incredibly fluid, trapping you completely between the solid line of his body and the cold edge of the kitchen counter.

"Yeah?" he echoed, his voice dropping to a low, husky murmur.

The heat radiating from his chest felt overwhelming in the quiet, dim kitchen. Up close, you could see the dark intensity in his eyes, the way his pupils dilated as he looked down at you, refusing to let you run away this time. His chest rose and fell with a slow, heavy breath, brushing just a hair's breadth against yours.

He was close enough that if you tilted your head just a fraction, your lips would touch.

"You always run away when things get quiet, Byeol," he whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips for a agonizingly slow second before locking back onto yours. "You did it two years ago, and you're doing it now. Why?"

"I-I uh.. I'm just shy" you say, truth was, you liked him all those years, you could never be normal around him from the way your heart would rapidly beat.

Your voice was barely a whisper, the confession trembling in the small, warm space between you. You looked down, unable to meet the sheer intensity of his gaze when your heart was practically hammering against your ribs, loud enough that you were terrified he could hear it.

Shy. It was the safest word you could find to cover up the massive, terrifying truth: that you had liked him for two whole years, and that even now, your body couldn't seem to function normally whenever he was anywhere near you.

Jungwon didn't pull away. If anything, your soft admission made him soften completely.

He let out a low, breathy sigh, the tension in his shoulders finally giving way. The hand resting on the counter beside your hip slid just an inch closer, his fingers lightly brushing against the fabric of your shirt.

"Shy," he repeated, his voice incredibly gentle, almost fond.

He tilted his head slightly, trying to catch your downward gaze, refusing to let you hide from him. When you finally glanced up, his dark eyes were swimming with an emotion so deep it made your knees weak.

"You make my heart beat like crazy, too, Byeol," he whispered, his eyes dropping to your lips before slowly rising back to yours. "If you're shy... then we can take it as slow as you want. But please, don't run away from me."

In a sheer, desperate state of panic—needing to silence the deafening roar of your own heartbeat and the overwhelming weight of his confession—you leaned up on your tiptoes.

You pressed your lips to his.

The moment your lips met, Jungwon froze completely. The sudden, tentative contact of your mouth against his caught him entirely off guard, his body locking up beneath your hands.

Panicking even more at his lack of reaction, you immediately pulled away, your face burning. You mentally cursed at yourself, screaming internally at how stupid you were to have just done that. What did you just do? Why did you—

Before you could even open your mouth to stammer out a frantic apology, Jungwon’s hand shot up from the counter.

His fingers slid into your hair, gripping the back of your head, while his other hand locked firmly around your waist. With a sudden, desperate surge of movement, he pulled you flush against his chest and leaned down, kissing you even harder.

This time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was deep, breathless, and filled with the pent-up longing of two long years. He parted your lips with a soft, demanding sigh, his body pressing you firmly back against the counter as if he were trying to make up for every single second he had spent away from you.

The kiss deepened, the desperate rush of it melting into a heavy, intoxicating heat that made your knees buckle.

Jungwon felt the shift instantly. He slid his hand from the back of your neck down to your lower back, his arm wrapping around you like a vice to lift you slightly, pressing you even tighter against the edge of the counter. His other hand anchored itself on your hip, his thumb digging into your skin through the fabric of your shirt, grounding you both in the sudden, overwhelming friction of your bodies.

A soft, quiet whimper escaped your throat, and Jungwon drank the sound in, a low growl rummaging deep in his chest. His tongue slid past your lips, slow and possessive, tasting like the sweet chocolate from earlier and the warm, clean heat of him. He tilted his head to angle the kiss deeper, his mouth moving against yours with a bruising, desperate hunger that made your head spin.

You reached out blindly, your hands tangling into the soft knit of his black sweater, pulling him closer as if there weren't already a complete lack of space between you.

He shifted his weight, crowding his thigh between yours. The sudden, hard press of his leg against your center made your breath hitch sharply. He paused against your mouth, a shudder running through his entire frame, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven pants.

"Byeol," he breathed against your lips, his voice raw, dark, and completely stripped of his usual composure.

He dragged his mouth away from yours, but only to press hot, open-mouthed kisses down the sensitive line of your jaw, his teeth lightly grazing your skin until he reached the hollow of your throat. He sucked gently, his hand on your hip sliding underneath the hem of your shirt, his warm, bare palm making direct contact with your bare skin.

His fingers were slightly calloused, sending a shiver straight down your spine as they traced the curve of your waist.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his breath hot against your collarbone, his fingers flexing against your hip. "Because if you don't... I'm not going to be able to."

you look at him, still shy "I trust you, jungwon"

Those four words hung in the warm, heavy air between you, shattering whatever quiet restraint Jungwon had left.

He let out a shaky, ragged breath against your collarbone, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a split second as if trying to anchor himself. When he looked up, his dark eyes were incredibly intense, filled with a mixture of disbelief, deep affection, and a hunger that made your chest tighten.

"You have no idea what saying that does to me," he whispered, his voice thick and strained.

With a sudden, effortless movement, his hands gripped your hips securely and lifted you, seating you firmly on the edge of the kitchen counter. The change in height put you eye-to-eye, your legs naturally parting to accommodate him as he stepped even closer, burying himself in your space.

His bare palm slid further up under your shirt, his warm fingers splaying against your ribs. The heat of his hand against your skin made you shiver, but his gaze held you entirely captive. He leaned in, his lips brushing yours with agonizing slowness before he kissed you again—not bruising this time, but deep, slow, and devastatingly sweet, sealing his unspoken promise to cherish every bit of the trust you were giving him.

"I've got you," he murmured against your mouth, his thumb stroking your skin in slow, dizzying circles. "I promise."

The quiet of the kitchen dissolved, replaced by the hushed, shadowed privacy of his bedroom.

The door clicked shut behind you, sealing out the rest of the world. In the dim, filtered light of the window, Jungwon didn't waste a single second. He backed you up until the edge of the mattress hit the back of your knees, his hands already sliding up from your waist to the hem of your shirt.

With a low, quiet breath, he pulled the fabric over your head, his eyes darkening as they swept over your bare skin in the shadows.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick and rough.

He pressed you down onto the cool sheets, his heavy body immediately following you, settling between your thighs. The sudden warmth of his bare chest against yours made you gasp, the friction of skin on skin sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. Jungwon caught the sound with his mouth, kissing you deeply, his tongue tracing yours in a slow, rhythm that mimicked the heavy ache pooling between your hips.

He slid one hand down your side, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your shorts and slowly, deliberately pulling them down, his knuckles brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You arched into his touch with a soft, needy whimper, your hands tangling into his hair, pulling him down harder against you.

Jungwon let out a ragged groan against your lips, his hips shifting to press his hard length firmly against your center through his pants. The friction was agonizingly perfect. He hovered over you, his chest heaving, his dark eyes locked onto yours as his fingers slid higher, finding the damp heat waiting for him.

"Jungwon..." you breathed, your head rolling back against the pillow.

"Right here," he murmured, his breath hot and uneven against your neck as his fingers slowly slid inside, making you gasp and tighten around him. "I'm right here."

He leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was slow, deep, and filled with a gentle warmth. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest as he lay back, bringing you down with him onto the soft mattress.

The heat of his body beneath you felt grounded and safe. Jungwon’s hands slid under the hem of your shirt, his bare palms resting warm against your waist, sending a soft shiver through you. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as his touch grew more possessive, tracing the curve of your hips.

Every touch felt deliberate, a silent promise of how much he had missed you. You tangled your fingers in his hair, losing yourself in the steady, comforting rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest as the rest of the world completely faded away.

"is now a good time to tell you i've liked you ever since you paid for my bike?" you tell him as he collapses next to you

Jungwon stiffened, his entire body freezing for a second against the mattress. He slowly lifted his head from your shoulder, his dark eyes wide with a mix of utter shock and sudden realization in the dim light.

"The bike?" he repeated, his voice dropping into an incredulous whisper.

He stared at you, a soft, breathless laugh escaping his lips as the memory clicked. A hand came up to rub his face, his shoulders shaking with quiet amusement.

"Byeol, that was literally two years ago," he murmured, his gaze softening completely as he leaned over you, resting his weight on one elbow. He reached out, his thumb gently tracing your lower lip. "You carried that around for two years? And you chose now to tell me?"

He shook his head, a warm, bright smile lighting up his face. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his hand sliding up to cradle your jaw.

"If I knew that was all it took to get you to like me," he whispered against your mouth, "I would have bought you ten more."

"when did you like me?"

Jungwon’s smile softened, his gaze turning incredibly tender as he looked down at you. He let out a quiet, breathless laugh, shaking his head at the irony of it all.

"The exact same day," he whispered, his voice warm and intimate in the quiet room.

He leaned down a bit closer, his thumb gently brushing your cheekbone.

"You really think I just randomly decided to be a good Samaritan and pay for your bike?" he asked, a faint, amused smirk playing on his lips. "I saw you standing there, looking so stressed out and flustered as you searched your pockets, trying so hard not to cry. The second you turned around and looked up at me with those wide, panicked eyes... it was over. I didn't even know your name yet, but my heart did this ridiculous, violent flip."

He rested his forehead against yours, his hands sliding up to gently cradle your face.

"I paid for it because I was completely desperate for an excuse to talk to you," he confessed softly. "I fell for you the very second I saw you, Byeol. It was love at first sight for me. You just took two years to find out."

you hug him around his abs, tracing circles around his skin "I guess we both fell for each other" you smile

Your arms slid around his waist, your hands resting against the warm, firm line of his abs as your fingers began to trace slow, lazy circles against his skin.

Jungwon let out a soft, contented hum at your touch, his muscles relaxing completely under your hands. He wrapped his arms securely around your shoulders, pulling you up so you were tucked perfectly against his side, your head resting over his beating heart.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice rumbling softly against your cheek. "I guess we did."

He looked down at you, his eyes curving into a warm, beautiful crescent smile that made him look younger, entirely stripped of the guard he usually kept up around everyone else. He leaned down to press a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head, his hand gently stroking your hair.

"two years of being completely clueless about each other," he whispered, a quiet laugh vibrating in his chest. "We really wasted a lot of time, didn't we? But I'm glad we're finally here."

"That's the thing about love isn't it? the feeling is scary because we don't always know if it'd end happily"

Jungwon’s hand stilled in your hair. He went quiet for a moment, the only sound in the room being the steady, calm rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. He tightened his arms around you, pulling you just a little bit closer against his chest.

"It is scary," he agreed softly, his chin resting against the top of your head. "I was terrified the entire time I was away. Terrified that I'd come back and you'd have moved on, or that I'd missed my chance with you forever."

He shifted slightly, nudging your chin up with his knuckles so you had to look at him. In the shadows, his eyes were incredibly earnest and steady.

"But being here with you right now? I'd rather take the risk of a messy, unpredictable ending with you than have a perfectly safe, easy life with anyone else," he murmured, his thumb gently wiping across your cheek. "We don't know what's going to happen, but we're together now. I'm not letting you go."

end

wowowowowo if you guys enjoyed it please make sure to like and comment! I'm open to requests, feedback is much appreciated!

@flowermoonmay @kristynaaah

[inked-chaconne]

to the girl who is always the lesson but never the one

pairing: non-idol!jungwon x fem!reader

warnings: angst with happy ending, fluff, y/n is an overthinker and has lots of insecurities, heartbreak, jungwon somehow giving mixed signals, slow burn, did i miss anything?? hopefully not.

premise: y/n has always been the lesson, never the one. so when jungwon, the boy who is kind to everyone, begins caring for her in ways that feel a little too intentional to ignore, she convinces herself it’s just his nature. but as her feelings grow, she reminds herself how relationships always end. now, she must decide whether believing in him is worth the risk of being temporary again.

word count: 21,660

***

dear, y/n,

in this world, there are two types of people: the one and the lesson. sad to say, you're the latter.

​there is a specific kind of exhaustion that comes with being someone’s stepping stone.

you spend months, sometimes years smoothing out their rough edges, teaching them how to love properly, how to listen, and how to stay. and then, once they’ve finally learned the lesson, they leave to go be with someone else.

at this point, you've become an expert at the curriculum. but you were never the one who got to keep the degree.

the cafe was loud, a chaotic symphony of clinking ceramic cups and the low hum of afternoon chatter, but it all faded into white noise the moment the image loaded on your feed.

​it was a simple photo. a sunlit afternoon, two matching gold rings, and a caption that felt like a quiet slap to my face: soobin, your ex, his hands on another girl’s waist while he kisses her cheek.

thank you for teaching me how to love properly, the caption said.

​two years.

​you stared at the photo, my thumb hovering over the screen. he was with you for two years and he couldn’t say those words to you, even in your anniversary. the whole time in your relationship, he was reckless, emotionally distant, and entirely unpolished. you spent a year settling for what you had because you thought it was love.

but the day he sent you a text saying it was over, he told you he just wasn't ready for commitment. now you realize he was ready, he just needed two years of your patience to learn how to be the man a girl deserved.

then there was jaemin, a senior from high school, your first…you wouldn’t say boyfriend but a fling. it was simple, you liked him and he liked you back. but only because you liked him that he liked you back.

then when he met a girl from his club where he really, really liked, your fling was over.

and even before all of them, there was the ultimate what if: park jongseong.

he was your childhood friend, the boy who lived just doors down, whose laughter was the soundtrack to your earliest memories. you had loved him since you were six years old, a silly, innocent crush that somehow managed to grow up right alongside you. as the years bled into high school, that fondness turned into something heavy and terrifying. you spent months practicing confessions in front of your bedroom mirror, your heart hammering against your ribs, only to swallow the words every time you saw him smile at you. he was your safe haven. the risk of speaking up and ruining the one steady friendship you had was a price you couldn't bear to pay.

until, he took an interest in your cousin, karina. you watched frozen as he confessed to her in the school field during lunch. he told you that day that he would confess, breaking your illusion of anything happening between the both of you. what you didn’t expect was he fell for someone you also knew for years, let alone a family member.

then months later, he admitted that he liked you back. but you were still just children then. his definition of love was too small, too cautious to risk breaking the fragile, beautiful friendship you had built. he didn’t know how to hold a girl’s hand while holding her history at the same time. but thanks to you, he knew what real love was. you gave him a lesson he’d forever treasure.

just not with you.

the worst part, you never got to tell him how you felt. you just quietly stepped aside, becoming the supportive best friend who helped him figure out what to say to her.

​"y/n? hey, are you even listening to me?"

wonhee, ​your roommate snapped the thread of my thoughts. she was sitting across you, a half-eaten plate of pasta between us, looking at me with a mixture of concern and mild annoyance.

​you locked my phone, the screen going mercifully black, and forced a practiced smile onto my face. "yeah. sorry. just... an internship notification. what were you saying?”

"i was saying about the drama I just overheard by the counter while getting our drinks."

she leaned in closer across the small table, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "you know jisu from the department next to ours? apparently, she and sunghoon just made it official on their feeds. like, matching profile pictures, public couple status, the whole nine yards."

wonhee shook her head, taking a slow sip of her drink. "everyone is losing their minds because sunghoon used to be notorious for being completely uncatchable. he’d date a girl for a month, get bored, and leave them with enough character development to write a novel. but look at him now—completely whipped. i guess some girls are just born to be the final destination, while the rest of us are just the rest stops along the highway."

you gave wonhee a weak smile, “tell me about it.”

just when you were about to mope on your feelings, your boss from your internship messaged that you interns are needed tomorrow for an urgent shoot. luckily, you had no classes tomorrow so you have time while still catching up with some tasks for school.

tomorrow has finally arrived and you came to the building of the prestige building of véra, a magazine known for its sleek minimalism and its legendary ability to turn underground creators into overnight icons. it was a place where trends didn't just get covered—they were born.

"no, absolutely not. the lighting is completely flat, and the silk looks like cardboard under these gels. look at the monitor!"

"i’m tracking the ambient light, okay? but if you want that raw, overcast mood you specifically asked for in the mood board, we need to shift the reflectors. now."

the sharp, overlapping voices echoed across the massive concrete studio space the moment you pushed past the heavy double doors. the atmosphere inside was thick with tension, a frantic ballet of production assistants rushing past with garment bags, makeup artists adjusting their kits under blinding vanity lights, and the distant, rhythmic clack-clack-clack of a high-end camera shutter.

in the center of the chaos stood the creative director, kang jiah, pinching the bridge of her nose in sheer frustration, while the lead photographer, oh minseok adjusted a massive lens on his tripod.

as a makeup artist student, your brain automatically began calculating the fix before anyone even asked you to. you could see the problem from ten feet away: the model had a gorgeous, warm skin tone, but the current lighting was clashing with the undertone of her foundation, making the high-shine finish look chaotic instead of seamless.

you gripped the handles of your professional makeup train case a little tighter, swallowing down your nervousness. you were just a standby intern here to clean brushes, prep skin, or rush to the makeup artist’s bag for products they need, but the thick tension in the room made your heart hammer against your ribs.

“excuse me,” a calm, clear voice suddenly broke the thick tension in the room. "if i may offer a small suggestion? what if we change the polarization instead?"

from the shadows behind the main monitor setup, a boy who seemed to be around your age stepped forward. he was dressed simply in a loose black sweater and clean trousers, a professional light meter slung casually around his neck.

"if we drop a linear polarizer onto the lens and tilt the key light down by just five degrees, the camera should cut the greasy reflection from the strobe while keeping the model's natural skin texture completely intact. director kang gets her soft, glass-skin look on the monitor, and you won't lose your highlights, sir. It should take less than two minutes to adjust."

the studio went quiet for a beat. photographer oh peered over his shoulder, checking the math on the monitor, before a slow, appreciative nod broke across his face. he stepped up to his own rig, quickly adjusting the polarization filter to test the student's theory.

"he's right. the polarization math checks out," photographer oh announced to the room, looking thoroughly impressed. "good eye…what’s your name?”

“jungwon, sir. yang jungwon.”

“good eye, jungwon.” director kang told jungwon with her stern voice but the look of amusement on her face did not leave.

yang jungwon.

everyone at the university knew who he was. he wasn't just talented; he was the golden boy and a prodigy. he was the type of student who's friends with everyone, the student whose photography portfolios were already being archived by professors as future curriculum benchmarks.

he possessed a rare, effortless blend of sharp academic intelligence and raw artistic intuition. he was brilliant, celebrated, and completely out of reach.

a boy existing in a flawless, sunlit orbit that a guarded, cynical standby intern like you had no business crossing.

jungwon wiped a stray lock of hair from his forehead, offering a small, dimpled smile to a stressed-out production assistant who had just dropped a roll of gaffer tape near his feet. he bent down, picked it up, and handed it back to her with a gentle, "here you go. don't worry, we have plenty of time."

you swallowed hard, averting your eyes.

he was brilliant, he was elite, and he was universally kind. the ultimate hazard sign.

it would be a lie if you said you didn't find him cute the first time you saw him in the building.

​"y/n, go in and touch up the nose and jawline," the head makeup artist, hyeji called out, waving a hand toward the vanity. "matte it down just a bit so the polarization works properly."

​you blinked, snapping out of your thoughts, and quickly grabbed your powder puff and a translucent setting powder.

​walking onto a live set always felt like stepping into a spotlight. your heart did a nervous little flutter as you approached the model, consciously keeping your eyes glued to her face and away from the monitor station where jungwon was standing.

​"excuse me," you whispered politely to the model, stepping into her personal space.

​you raised your hand, your fingers stabilizing against her jaw as you gently tapped the powder puff onto her skin. this was your comfort zone. the familiar scent of cosmetics and the meticulous, rhythmic tapping usually calmed your nerves.

​until you felt a presence shift right behind you.

​"ah, wait a second please," a quiet voice murmured.

​you froze, your hand hovering inches from the model’s cheek. jungwon had stepped up right next to you, leaning in slightly to look at the model's face through the small space between you two. he was close enough that you could catch the subtle, clean scent of his fabric softener—like fresh laundry and cold winter air.

​he wasn't looking at you. his sharp, focused eyes were entirely on how the studio lights hit the model's skin finish. he raised a hand, using his thumb to gently mimic the angle of the key light.

​"if she tilts her chin up just a fraction when y/n finishes dusting the powder," jungwon said softly, addressing the photographer while subconsciously using your name, "the shadow under the jaw will clean up perfectly."

​your breath hitched in your throat. y/n. he didn't even know you, yet hearing your name leave his lips in that calm, casual tone felt like a sudden spike of electricity.

this feeling was familiar, you said.

​as soon as the thought crossed your mind, a cold wave of reality washed over you, dousing the spark before it could even catch fire. you quickly finished the last few taps of powder, stepped back, and offered a hurried, polite bow to the model and jungwon before retreating to the dark edges of the studio.

​your chest felt tight. you're doing it again, you scolded yourself, your fingers gripping the plastic handle of your powder compact so hard your knuckles turned white.

​you felt pathetic. you felt completely, utterly cursed.

​it was always like this. one soft glance, one polite gesture, a boy simply using your name and your heart was already trying to sprint ahead. you fell fast, hopelessly fast, like a script that had already been written for you a hundred times before. you were the girl who romanticized the bare minimum, the girl who mistook a photographer's technical focus for something personal.

​you closed your eyes for a brief second, forcing your breathing to steady.

​if you let yourself look at yang jungwon, you knew exactly how this story would end. he would smile, he would be kind, he would inadvertently teach you how to love a little deeper—and then he would hand his heart to someone else, leaving you behind with nothing but a notebook full of character development.

​you weren't going to be the rest stop on his highway. not this time.

​"y/n? can you clean the brushes from the morning prep?" the senior makeup artist's voice called out from the vanity room.

​"coming," you replied, your voice dropping back into its practiced, neutral tone. you pulled your shoulders back and walked away from the lit set, determined to keep yourself distracted from whatever feelings that are rising.

***

dear, y/n,

sometimes, old habits die hard. you recognized the electricity today, didn't you? it’s the exact same current that left you in the dark three times before. he is a walking hazard sign with a dimpled smile, and you are already stepping over the yellow tape. the truth is, you missed the way a single voice could make the room tilt, and for the first time in a very long time, it felt kind of beautiful to feel everything all at once again.

the train ride home was the worst part of the day. it gave you too much time to think, the rhythmic, metallic hum of the carriage matching the uneasy beat of your heart as the train rattled through the city.

​sitting crushed between tired commuters, you pulled out your phone. your thumbs moved on pure instinct, opening the app and typing his name into the search bar before your logical brain could even try to stop you.

​@jw_209

​you swallowed hard as his profile loaded. no private account lock. no gatekeeping. just a blue checkmark, a massive follower count, and a grid that looked exactly like a highly curated digital museum.

your eyes scanned his feed, and that familiar flutter settled deep in your chest.

he liked taking photos of landscapes with ethereal vibes. misty horizons, soft pastel sunrises over quiet shorelines, and ancient trees swallowed by a dreamlike haze. he captured the world in a way that made ordinary things look completely breathtaking.

​he was incredibly talented, yet his captions were entirely humble. just a single camera emoji or a word or phrases about the fleeting nature of everyday moments, or how softly a quiet afternoon can pass you by.

​then, you scrolled down a bit further and hit the real hazard zone: his tagged photos.

​there were countless pictures of him posted by other people. jungwon sitting at a university cafe surrounded by a huge group of friends, all of them leaning into him. jungwon smiling broadly, showing off those deep, clear dimples as he held up a peace sign next to girls from the dance club, the cheer squad, the student council. every single person in his tagged photos looked happy just to be standing near him.

​he was tagged in sweet birthday posts, late-night study group sessions, and celebratory dinner collages. he wasn't just liked. he was cherished by everyone who crossed his path.

though he doesn't post photos of people in his social media. you guessed he likes to keep the people in his life private or he just likes taking photos of landscapes than people.

on the way back home, you were pulled right out of your thoughts by the familiar chimes of the convenience store down the street from your dorm.

​the door swung open, and a boy stepped out into the humid night air, a small plastic bag dangling from his fingers. your footsteps completely faltered on the pavement.

​it was yang jungwon.

​he was dressed down even more than he had been at the studio, his hair slightly damp and a pair of simple slippers on his feet. he stopped under the warm, buzzing glow of the storefront sign, completely breaking the distant, untouchable image you had just been staring at on your phone. he was right here. in your neighborhood.

​before you could even think about hiding or turning around, he raised his head. his sharp eyes blinked in surprise, and then, those deep, familiar dimples cut into his cheeks as he caught sight of you.

​"oh? y/n, right?"

“j-jungwon!”

damn it, you really had to stutter and raise your voice.

“you just got home?”

​"yeah, the head artist wanted the foundation brushes sanitized tonight because the morning crew needs them fresh, and then i had to sort the sponge bins and double-check the inventory list for the next shoot since we won't even be there on friday, so it just took way longer than expected."

it felt like you couldn’t breathe after that. why did you have to overexplain? he had asked a simple four-word question, and you had handed him a full logistical breakdown of your internship duties like a nervous suspect under interrogation.

​jungwon blinked softly, taking in your breathless ramble. for a horrifying second, you thought he might find you completely weird—but then, his eyes crinkled at the corners, and that deep, gentle dimple appeared on his cheek.

​"ah, so that's why you're so late," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft in the quiet night air. "you worked really hard today.”

“t-thank you. it was just part of the job, really. i’m still just a standby intern, so i have to do my best not to get in anyone's way."

​jungwon tilted his head slightly, his gaze warm. "you didn't get in anyone's way. your skin prep made the polarization adjustment work perfectly."

the fact that he remembered that brought your heart into a sudden, breathless flutter, the erratic rhythm pounding so loud against your ribs you were terrified he could hear it in the midnight quiet. it was that exact same jolt of electricity from the studio, only this time, it felt twice as loud under the quiet streetlights. your heart was doing dangerous, hopeful flips, completely ignoring every single warning you had just given yourself.

​jungwon shifted his weight, his plastic bag rustling softly against his sweatpants. he looked down at the street for a second, a small, polite smile lingering on his lips before he looked back up at you.

​"well, it's getting pretty late," he said softly, gesturing slightly with his head toward the direction of the apartment blocks. "i should probably head back home before the ice cream i bought completely melts."

​you blinked, forcing your brain to kick back into gear. "oh! right, yeah. of course. go ahead."

​"get home safely, y/ni," he murmured, stepping past you with a gentle nod. "see you at the studio on friday."

​"goodnight," you whispered to his retreating back.

​you stood frozen on the pavement, watching his tall, relaxed figure disappear into the shadows of the street. the subtle scent of his fabric softener still lingered faintly in the humid night air, a cruel reminder that he had actually been standing right there.

​you let out a long, shaky exhale, finally allowing your shoulders to drop. you were supposed to be building walls. you were supposed to be guarding your heart against the ultimate hazard sign.

​but as you turned the key to your dorm room, your heart was still stubbornly replaying the exact way his dimples looked under the convenience store light.

the quiet hum of your desk lamp was the only sound in the room. you had been staring at your color theory assignment for the past hour, but the lines of text were starting to blur together. your brain was entirely fried.

​just a five-minute break, you promised yourself.

​it was a lie, and you knew it. your fingers moved on pure autopilot, unlocking your phone and opening the app before your conscience could stage an intervention. you had explicitly told yourself to stop looking. you had promised yourself on the train, and again at the door of your dorm, that you wouldn't feed the curse.

​but as you clicked on his profile, a little red circle illuminated his profile picture.

​new post • 2 min. ago

​your breath caught. you tapped it.

​it wasn't an ethereal landscape or a misty sunrise. it was a shot taken from a low angle, capturing the wet asphalt of the pavement reflecting the warm, buzzing neon glow of the convenience store sign down your street. in the distance, the blurry silhouette of the quiet neighborhood stretched into the dark, looking incredibly nostalgic and soft through his lens.

​it was the exact spot where you had been standing together just an hour ago.

​he had captured the ordinary street and turned it into something poetic. your heart did that dangerous, breathless stumble all over again as your eyes drifted down to the caption.

​he wrote: daylight.

***

dear y/n,

how are you supposed to know which signs are real and which ones are just the universe playing a cruel joke? when you spend your whole life guarding your heart against a curse, you start to see warnings everywhere. you read caution tape in a polite smile. you read danger in a dimple. but when a boy posts a picture of a midnight street and labels it daylight, what are you supposed to believe? is it a green light, or just another beautiful hazard sign?

​you and jungwon have the same elective of visual media color theory. though you never noticed him fully until yesterday’s studio shoot, you now vividly remember seeing his name printed right above yours on the attendance sheet every single week.

​today, you sat right in the middle of the classroom just to get a better view, since you could barely see the slides when you were seated at the sides of the room.

​what you didn't expect was looking up to see the dimpled boy sliding into the empty seat right next to you, greeting you with a soft smile.

​“hey, y/n.”

​“h-hi! jungwon.”

the syllable felt heavy on your tongue, entirely too loud for the quiet buzz of the classroom before the professor walked in. you quickly looked down at your desk, blindly organizing your highlighters just to keep your hands from shaking.

he set his laptop down on the wooden desk, the plastic convenience store bag from last night nowhere to be seen, replaced now by the clean, sharp scent of his usual cologne. out of the corner of your eye, you watched him lean back in his chair, his long legs stretching out comfortably under the desk.

"you usually sit by the windows, don't you?" he asked, his voice low and conversational as he adjusted his screen.

your hands froze on your pencil case. you turned your head to look at him, your chest tightening. "y-yes. how did you know?"

jungwon paused, his fingers hovering over his keyboard. he turned his head to meet your gaze, those deep dimples faintly tracing his cheeks as a soft, easy smile broke across his face. "i sit a few rows back. it's kind of hard not to notice when you're always dropping your pens under the chairs."

a mortified heat rushed straight to your face. you wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. all this time, you thought you were completely invisible, a nameless face in a hundred-person lecture hall. but he hadn't just seen you yesterday—he had been watching your clumsy morning routines for weeks.

"i don't drop them that often," you muttered defensively, though your voice lacked any real bite because your heart was currently trying to escape your ribs.

"hm, if you say so," he amusedly replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. he leaned in just a fraction closer, his shoulder almost brushing against yours. "but since you moved to the middle today, i figured i'd move too. the view is better here anyway."

the professor finally walked into the room, clapping his hands to start the lecture, but your brain had already completely short-circuited.

the view is better here anyway.

you didn't say it out loud, but you completely, wholeheartedly agreed.

the view from the middle of the room really was so much better, especially when it included the sharp line of his jawline and the soft way his hair fell over his forehead as he looked back down at his laptop screen. you couldn't help the small, satisfied smile that tugged at your lips. you had originally just wanted to see the lesson clearly, but sitting right next to yang jungwon was an undeniable upgrade.

as the professor finally walked in and the slides changed to color wheel harmonies, you leaned back in your chair, feeling a warm, victorious rush of giddiness settling deep in your chest.

throughout the whole lecture, jungwon noticed how you were having a hard time catching up with the professor’s fast pacing. without a word, he simply slid his notebook toward the center of the desk, his clean, neat handwriting perfectly capturing everything you had missed.

you blinked, giving him a questioning look that clearly said, what about you?

he just leaned in slightly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he murmured, “it’s okay. i have photographic memory anyway.”

a quiet laugh escaped your lips before you could stop it, though you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth so the rest of the lecture hall wouldn't hear.

and when class ended, one of your elective mates came to jungwon and thanked him for lending him his notes from last week’s session.

you froze, your fingers tightening around your pen. a cold splash of reality hit you right in the face. you had almost fallen for it. you had almost convinced yourself jungwon only did that gesture for you.

but he was just like that with everyone else.

***

dear y/n,

sometimes, it would be easier to just pull back completely and build your walls so high that no dimpled smile can reach you. it is easy to tell yourself to keep your distance when you think you are just another face in his crowded room. you can convince your mind that his kindness is a warning sign, a trap designed to make you stumble.

but what are you supposed to do when the universe refuses to cooperate with your defenses? how do you run away when every detour somehow leads you straight back into his path? it feels like the world is intentionally shrinking, forcing your orbits to cross whether you are ready for it or not.

if every sudden encounter keeps pushing you closer, maybe the real danger isn't his casual charm. maybe the real hazard is how badly you want to stop running. you are standing on the edge of the hazard zone, and you are starting to realize you don't want to step back.

but the universe, it seemed, hadn't gotten the memo.

"y/n, thank goodness you're here early," the head stylist breathed, rushing past you with an armful of garment bags the moment you stepped into the studio. "the model for the second layout just called in sick, and the concept director is losing her mind. since you have the closest features to our model, could you maybe stand in for her today? don’t worry, i won’t make you add extra work. just be a model for today.”

your breath hitched, your fingers tightening around the strap of your makeup kit. "me? a model?"

"yes, please! the lighting is already set up for your skin profile anyway," she pleaded, gently nudging you toward the center of the dark studio before rushing off to coordinate with the wardrobe team.

even though you were nervous, you felt flattered by the sudden shift from being the one holding the brushes to being the one everyone was rushing to get ready.

seconds later, you were pressed into the leather chair, staring at your own reflection framed by bright, blinding vanity bulbs. as the senior makeup artist began sweeping a fluffy brush across your cheekbones, your eyes instinctively drifted to the mirror's reflection, scanning the dark background of the studio.

there he was.

jungwon was standing by the equipment table, a light meter slung around his neck as he manually adjusted a camera lens. but as you watched him through the glass, his hands suddenly slowed down. without turning his head, his gaze quietly shifted upward, his dark eyes locking onto your reflection in the mirror.

your heart did a violent, dangerous skip. for a split second, you were entirely breathless, caught in a silent, cross-room stare through a sheet of glass.

but then, jungwon blinked, casually turning away to say something to a lighting crew member as if nothing had happened.

you quickly looked down at your lap, your cheeks burning under the heavy layer of setting powder. you're tripping, you firmly told yourself, your fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt. you are completely hallucinating. he was a photographer; he was probably just looking at the vanity lights or checking the ambient glare in the room. he wasn't looking at you. he couldn't be.

"all done, sweetheart! step onto the backdrop for me," the artist said, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat.

your feet felt heavy, practically glued to the floorboards as you finally stepped onto the seamless backdrop. the harsh studio lights cut through the shadows, illuminating the space and making you feel incredibly exposed.

at the center of the set, jungwon was now waiting by the tripod. when you took your place, he slowly lowered the camera body from his face. the casual, easygoing expression he always wore vanished. he didn't smile, and he didn't drop a playful comment like he did in the classroom. he just stared, his dark eyes tracking you with that exact same quiet, unreadable intensity you thought you had imagined in the mirror.

you fixed your posture, forcing your face into a neutral, professional mask. you had to remember the lesson from yesterday. you weren't special.

“whenever you're ready, jungwon,” director kang said, her voice sharp but steady as she reviewed the digital monitor from the sidelines.

jungwon blinked, the director's voice hitting him like a sudden splash of cold water, snapping him out of his trance. his jaw tightened slightly as he quickly looked away from you, slowly raising the camera back to his eye to hide his face behind the lens.

"right," his voice came out a little rougher than usual, echoing slightly in the quiet studio. "let's... let's start with the profile shots. look slightly to the left, please."

you did as he asked, turning your chin toward the shadows and focusing your eyes on a random spot on the studio wall. at first, your limbs felt stiff, every muscle in your neck tight with the lingering anxiety of being just a temporary replacement. you were acutely aware of the lens pointed at you, and even more aware of the boy behind it.

click.

the flash illuminated the dark studio for a microsecond.

"good," jungwon’s voice drifted over from the tripod, lower now, carrying a calm, steady rhythm that instantly cut through your panic. "just like that. now drop your shoulders a bit, y/n. take a deep breath in... and let it out."

you followed his voice, exhaling slowly. as your shoulders relaxed, something shifted inside you. you looked down at the structured, high-fashion wardrobe they had styled you in, felt the perfect weight of the makeup on your skin, and realized something liberating: you weren't a mistake or a technical hitch. you were a cosmetology student who understood exactly how angles, textures, and lighting worked. you knew your face. you knew your undertones.

and suddenly, you didn't feel like a hiding substitute anymore. you felt powerful.

"perfect. keep that exact expression," jungwon murmured. click. "tilt your head up just a fraction. let the key light hit the high points of your cheekbones."

his guidance was effortless. he wasn't treating you like a standard, disposable model, nor was he acting like the casual classmate who shared notes. behind the camera, yang jungwon was a complete professional. he gave commands with a quiet, grounding confidence that made you feel completely safe to move, to experiment, to own the space under the lights.

click. click.

"bring your hands up toward your collarbone," he instructed softly, the lens tracking your movements. "soft fingers. look right into the lens this time."

you didn't hesitate. you turned your head back toward the center, lifting your chin, and looked directly down the barrel of his camera lens. you locked eyes with him through the glass, no longer trying to hide behind a neutral mask. you let your confidence show—letting him see that you were completely present, commanding the set just as much as he was.

from behind the camera, you heard the faint, sharp intake of jungwon's breath. but the camera didn't stutter.

"beautiful," he whispered, the word carrying a raw, genuine weight that sent a different kind of thrill straight down your spine. click. "stay right there. don't move."

beautiful.

he just said it so casually, so effortlessly, but the word felt entirely too heavy as it hung in the space between you. he didn't lower the lens, keeping his gaze locked onto yours through the camera glass as if he were trying to capture something far deeper than just a standard lighting test.

"and... cut!" director kang's voice suddenly cut through the air, breaking the spell. "excellent work, everyone. let's check the monitor."

the blinding studio lights dimmed slightly as the crew immediately swarmed around the main digital display. you stepped off the seamless backdrop, your knees feeling a little weak now that the adrenaline was fading. you tentatively walked over to the edge of the crowd, peeking over a stylist's shoulder to look at the screen.

a small gasp escaped your lips. the images looking back at you didn't look like a nervous, last-minute substitute at all. the lighting caught the crisp edges of your jawline, the makeup looked flawless under the exposure, and your eyes held a sharp, captivating confidence.

"wow, y/n, look at your facial symmetry," one of the senior stylists praised, clapping her hands together. "the textures are so clean. you look incredible!"

"honestly, you saved us today," director kang agreed, nodding dynamic approval as she scrolled through the burst shots. "the mood is exactly what we needed for the editorial pitch. you're a natural."

your chest swelled with a warm, triumphant rush of pride. all your hours studying skin prep and facial angles had paid off, and hearing the professional crew validate your work made you feel completely on top of the world.

"i'm completely satisfied with how these turned out," a quiet, familiar voice spoke up from behind you.

you turned around to find jungwon standing there, his camera now resting against his hip. he wasn't looking at the monitor anymore; his dark eyes were fixed directly on you, a soft, genuine smile touching his lips.

"the lighting and the textures hit perfectly," he added, his voice low and private amidst the loud chatter of the crew. "i'm really glad y/n stepped in today."

your heart gave a violent, unruly thud against your ribs.

the crew was still talking loudly around you, debating layout designs and background colors, but your selective hearing had already locked the world out. i'm really glad y/n stepped in today. his words replayed in a dizzying loop, sweet and terrifyingly sincere.

he might have sounded like a good coworker but as you looked at the faint trace of his dimples, you knew your defenses were in serious trouble.

after changing your outfit from the shoot, you stopped in your tracks when you saw jungwon clearing up the equipment by himself. the heavy studio lights were mostly shut off, leaving only the dim, warm overheads casting long shadows across the empty room. he looked completely different now. his jacket discarded, the sleeves of his shirt pushed up to his elbows as he reached up to untighten a massive softbox modifier from its stand.

you hesitated for a fraction of a second before setting your tote bag down on a nearby stool. you walked over, your sneakers squeaking quietly against the concrete floor.

"need a hand?" you asked, reaching out to stabilize the heavy metal base of the C-stand before it could tilt forward.

jungwon blinked, looking down at you from his height. a look of surprise crossed his face, followed quickly by that familiar, easy smile. "oh, y/n. you're still here? it's okay, i've got it. you should head home, it's getting late."

"i want to help," you replied, your voice steady despite the quiet thumping in your chest. you didn't let go of the metal stand. "besides, you're the one who did all the heavy lifting during the shoot. consider it payback for the notes."

jungwon let out a soft, breathy chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "alright. if you insist."

for the next twenty minutes, the studio was quiet except for the rustle of velcro, the clinking of metal stands, and the low, easy hum of casual conversation. you helped him coil the heavy black extension cords while he carefully packed his camera body and lenses into his padded backpack. without the pressure of the crew or the blinding lights, the stiff walls you had painstakingly built after yesterday's lecture began to feel entirely useless.

"all set," jungwon finally said, zipping his bag closed and swinging it over one shoulder. he turned off the remaining studio switch, plunging the room into darkness except for the green exit light by the door. "let's go?"

you nodded, walking out into the cool evening air together.

the walk to the transit station was surprisingly peaceful. the streets of the city were buzzing with the usual nighttime traffic, but between the two of you, there was a comfortable, easy rhythm. you talked about the concept director’s hectic energy, your favorite color theories, and how relieving it was to finally finish a long week of classes.

when you finally reached your stop, you turned to wave goodbye, but jungwon didn't stay on the platform. instead, he quietly stepped off the train right behind you.

"wait, jungwon," you blinked, looking around the familiar street corner near your neighborhood. "your place isn't around here, is it?"

jungwon adjusted the strap of his heavy camera bag, looking down at you under the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp. his dimples showed faintly as he smiled, his hands slipping into his pockets.

"it's not," he admitted casually, his voice low and incredibly grounding in the quiet night. "but it's dark out, and you worked hard today. i wanted to make sure you got home safe."

your breath hitched, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your tote bag.

there it was again. that dangerous, dizzying rush of kilig slammed right into your chest, loud enough to drown out the distant hum of the evening traffic. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. the words hung in the space between you, illuminated by the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp.

for a terrifying second, you wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that this detour, this long train ride out of his way, was for you.

but then the memory of the classroom flashed behind your eyes—the classmate thanking him for the notes, the realization that yang jungwon was just effortlessly, universally good. of course he was walking you home. you had stayed late to help him lift heavy equipment; he probably just felt standard, polite responsibility as a coworker to make sure you didn't walk the dark streets alone. he would have done the exact same thing for director kang, or the senior stylist, or anyone else.

he was just being a good guy. that was all.

"you really didn't have to, jungwon," you said, forcing a small, polite smile to your face as you stepped backward toward your gate, desperately trying to keep the distance between you. "but... thank you. for the walk. and for today."

jungwon didn't move, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he watched you step away. the easy smile on his lips faded into something quiet and slightly intense, his eyes tracking your defensive posture with an unreadable look.

"anytime, y/n," he murmured softly. "get some rest."

your breath hitched, your fingers tightly gripping the straps of your tote bag.

there it was again. that dangerous, dizzying rush of warmth slammed right into your chest, a sudden flutter so loud it threatened to drown out the distant hum of the evening traffic. i wanted to make sure you got home safe. the words hung in the space between you, illuminated by the warm, amber glow of the streetlamp.

for a terrifying second, you wanted to believe it. you wanted to believe that this detour, this long train ride out of his way, was for you.

but then the memory of the classroom flashed behind your eyes. the classmate thanking him for the notes, the realization that yang jungwon was just effortlessly, universally good. of course he was walking you home. you had stayed late to help him lift heavy equipment; he probably just felt standard, polite responsibility as a coworker to make sure you didn't walk the dark streets alone. he would have done the exact same thing for director kang, or the senior stylist, or anyone else.

he was just being a good guy. that was all.

"you really didn't have to, jungwon," you said, forcing a small, polite smile to your face as you stepped backward toward your gate, desperately trying to keep the distance between you. "but... thank you. for the walk. and for today."

jungwon didn't move, his hands still tucked into his pockets as he watched you step away. the easy smile on his lips faded into something quiet and slightly intense, his eyes tracking your defensive posture with an unreadable look.

"anytime, y/n," he murmured softly. "get some rest."

“thank you, jungwon.” you gave him one last polite nod, turning around to finally press the unlock button on your gate. your hands were shaking slightly, and you were desperate to get inside the safety of your house before your face completely gave you away.

“y/n?”

his voice called out, stopping you right in your tracks. your fingers froze against the cold iron of the latch. you took a quiet, steadying breath before slowly looking back over your shoulder.

“yes?”

jungwon was still standing under the amber streetlamp, his hands deeply embedded in his jacket pockets. he tilted his head slightly, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intensity that completely bypassed your professional walls. the softest, most genuine trace of a smile appeared on his lips, causing his dimples to faintly show in the shadows.

“you looked pretty today.”

***

dear y/n,

sometimes, the universe doesn’t just nudge you; it completely corners you. you try to write off his kindness as a collective luxury, a universal trait he hands out to anyone who asks, because believing you are special is a luxury you simply cannot afford. but how do you categorize a quiet detour under an amber streetlamp? how do you rationalize a parting line that wasn't meant for a coworker, a classmate, or a crowd, but uniquely, devastatingly, for you?

you couldn’t reply.

the moment the word left his lips, your brain completely short-circuited, leaving you entirely breathless under the dim streetlamp. you practically threw yourself through the gate, shutting the iron latch behind you with a loud, metallic clang that echoed through the quiet neighborhood. your heart was hammering violently against your ribs as you sprinted up the steps, not daring to look back to see if he was still standing there watching you run.

it was only when you were locked safely inside the dark sanctuary of your bedroom that you finally collapsed against the mattress, pulling a pillow over your face to smother a helpless, frustrated groan.

you looked pretty today.

the phrase replayed in a dizzying, echoing loop, vibrating straight down to your fingertips. you tightly closed your eyes, desperately trying to summon the cold reality check from the lecture hall. he is just nice. he is just a naturally attentive guy who knows how to make people feel comfortable on a set.

but as you turned over and stared at the dark ceiling, your fingers tracing the edges of your blanket, a quiet, terrifying truth settled in your chest. no matter how high you built your walls, yang jungwon didn't even have to try and scale them.

he was effortlessly dismantling them, brick by single brick, and you were completely running out of places to hide.

the next morning brought a blinding, unapologetic sunlight that did absolutely nothing to clear the fog in your head. you woke up with your limbs tangled in your sheets, your phone still clutched tightly in your palm as if you had been guarding it in your sleep.

when you dragged yourself out of bed and walked over to the bathroom sink, you actively avoided looking at your reflection for the first five minutes. you splashed ice-cold water onto your face, hoping the shock of it would finally scrub the lingering warmth out of your cheeks and snap you back into reality.

it was just studio adrenaline, you reasoned with yourself, aggressively rubbing a fluffy towel against your skin. people say fleeting things when they’re tired after a long shoot. he was probably just riding the high of a successful layout.

but the moment you sat down at your vanity to start your morning skincare routine, your hands froze.

you picked up your daily moisturizer, but your eyes involuntarily drifted to your own reflection in the glass. suddenly, you weren't looking at your bedroom walls anymore. you were seeing the dark studio mirror. you were seeing the way his dark eyes had pierced right through the reflection, tracking your every move while the makeup brush swept across your skin.

you looked down at your hands, your chest tightening. your fingertips automatically brushed against your collarbone, tracing the exact spot where he had told you to place your hands.

"beautiful," his whispered voice echoed in your ears, so clear it made you flinch.

you let out a shaky breath, forcing your hands down into your lap. it was terrifying how a single night could completely alter the space around you. your bedroom, your vanity, your own face—everything felt entirely compromised by him. you couldn't even apply your makeup without wondering if your features really did look the way he implied.

unable to handle the loud silence of your thoughts, you decided to escape your room. you spent the rest of the morning trying to drown out his voice with mundane tasks—cleaning your desk, organizing your elective binders, and making a mental checklist of your upcoming assignments.

by saturday afternoon, your eyes were heavy from lack of sleep, your mind completely exhausted from the non-stop mental gymnastics. you had finally managed to calm your heart rate down, sitting at your desk and staring blankly at a textbook.

ding.

the sharp vibration of your phone against the wooden desk made you flinch.

your hands shook slightly as you picked it up, your breath instantly catching when you saw his name illuminated on the lock screen.

jungwon: [1 file attached]

jungwon: finished compiling the raw layouts for director kang. thought i’d send you your edit first.

you swallowed hard, your thumb hovering over the glass. you tapped the file, waiting a few agonizing seconds for the high-resolution image to clear.

when the details finally rendered, the air left your lungs completely.

it wasn’t just a well-shot photo. he hadn't used the sharp, cool commercial lighting the director usually preferred for editorial pitches. instead, the coloring was incredibly soft, almost romantic, warming up your skin profile in a way that made you look like you were glowing from the inside out.

but it was the lighting on your eyes that made your chest completely constrict. he had meticulously adjusted the shadows so that the tiny, glittering reflection of the studio lights caught the exact center of your pupils. your gaze looked impossibly deep, intense, and vulnerable.

he had spent hours looking at your face in high-definition. he had zoomed in on your features, balanced your undertones, cleaned up the lines, and perfected the exposure.

you stared at the screen, your heart racing. a normal photographer would have just dropped the files into the shared studio google drive or handed them over on monday. but yang jungwon had edited yours personally, isolated it from the rest of the layout, and sent it directly to your private inbox on a saturday afternoon.

you slowly leaned back against your chair, the cold wood pressing into your spine as you stared at the beautiful, terrifying image of yourself.

you could try to convince yourself that he was just a gentleman under the streetlamp. you could pretend he was just being polite when he called you pretty. but looking at this photo, you realized something that terrified you to your core: through the lens of his camera, yang jungwon looked at you like you were the only thing on the set that mattered.

your phone buzzed again in your palm, making you jump.

jungwon: do you like them? y/n: i love them, jungwon! you did an amazing job with the lighting and the textures. it doesn't even look like me. jungwon: it looks exactly like you. i just captured what was already there.

your phone slipped an inch in your hand. you squeezed your eyes shut, a soft, helpless groan escaping your lips as you buried your face in your arms on the desk.

he was doing it again. he was effortlessly throwing lines that completely bypassed your defenses, speaking with a terrifying sincerity that left you absolutely no room to hide.

a week later, director kang officially approved the editorial pitch, and the official shoot layouts were finally uploaded to the department's public portfolio. you felt a quiet sense of relief, thinking the excitement from that chaotic friday had finally settled down.

until later that evening, when your phone notification panel lit up with a tag.

yang_jw tagged you in a post.

your thumb practically smashed against the screen to open the app.

it was a carousel post titled simply: bts 📸

the first slide was a moody shot of an overhead key light piercing through the dark studio. the second was a close-up of a heavy black camera cable coiled neatly over a metal stand. the third was the empty grey seamless backdrop.

and then, you swiped to the fourth slide.

the breath caught in your throat.

it was you.

it wasn’t one of the polished, perfectly posed files he had sent to director kang. it was a candid, behind-the-scenes frame captured right in the middle of the shoot. you were sitting in the leather vanity chair, the bright, blinding bulbs framing your silhouette, your chin turned slightly over your shoulder. your expression wasn't a professional mask; it was soft, slightly dazed, caught in the exact microsecond you had instinctively looked into the mirror to search for his reflection in the dark background.

he had captured the exact moment you were looking for him.

you swiped to the fifth and sixth slides: more inanimate props, a discarded lens cap, the digital monitor from a distance.

you swiped back to the fourth slide, your heart hammering against your ribs so violently it felt loud in the quiet of your room.

​you stared at the screen, your eyes tracing the soft edge of your own silhouette under the bright vanity bulbs. anyone else scrolling through his feed would just see a cool, atmospheric behind-the-scenes shot of a makeup student on set. they wouldn't notice the way the light caught the exact, vulnerable curve of your shoulder. they wouldn't know that the slight daze in your eyes was because you had been looking for him in the dark studio mirrors.

​but you knew. and more terrifyingly, jungwon knew too.

​your thumb hovered over the screen, paralyzed by the sheer weight of what this meant. you could rationalize notes. you could rationalize a long walk home in the dark as standard gentlemanly politeness. you could even convince yourself that a personal photo edit was just him being a meticulous, dedicated photographer.

​but this? breaking his own years-long aesthetic grid just to drop a candid frame of your face into the world?

​there were no olympic-level mental gymnastics left to save you. you couldn't hide behind the "good classmate" excuse anymore.

​with a trembling thumb, you tapped the little heart icon below the post, watching it turn red.

​almost instantly, a new notification slid down from the top of your screen, making you gasp softly in the quiet room.

​yang_jw: you're awake?

shit, shit, shit!

you scrambled backward against your headboard, nearly dropping the device straight onto your face. you had liked the post less than thirty seconds after he uploaded it. there was absolutely no playing the "i just happened to see it on my feed" card—you were actively lurking, and your lightning-fast double-tap had completely exposed you.

​your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, typing and deleting three different responses while your chest squeezed with a frantic, dizzying heat.

​y/n: yeah, just finishing up some reading.

​you pressed send, holding your breath as the single gray checkmark turned blue. almost immediately, the three typing dots appeared.

​yang_jw: reading? at 1 AM?

yang_jw: or were you just waiting for my post?

​you let out a helpless, strangled sound into the empty space of your bedroom, burying your burning face straight into your pillows. he was shameless. he was entirely, utterly shameless, and the worst part was that he was exactly right.

​before you could even think of a defensive lie to protect your dignity, your phone buzzed again in your palm.

​yang_jw: do you like the fourth slide?

​your breath hitched. he wasn't dancing around it. he knew exactly what he did when he put that candid photo of you in the middle of his grid, and he was deliberately forcing you to acknowledge it.

​you sat up, biting your lower lip until it turned white. you couldn't keep running. if he was going to be this bold, you had to find a way to stabilize your own footing before you completely dissolved under his pace.

​y/n: the lighting was nice. but i thought your feed was strictly landscapes.

​you stared at the screen, your heart hammering a chaotic rhythm against your ribs as you waited. seconds ticked by like hours until the screen lit up with his reply.

yang_jw: you keep tabs on my feed?

shit.

but ​before you could even think of a lie to salvage yourself, the next bubble popped up.

​yang_jw: but yes, it is. yang_jw: but you looked too pretty in that mirror to leave you in a hidden folder.

you completely froze in your spot.

the air left your lungs, leaving you staring blankly at the glowing screen as the world around you fell entirely silent. you couldn't move. you couldn't blink. your fingers remained locked stiffly around the edges of your phone, your eyes glued to the word pretty.

when you finally found the strength to move, it was only to let out a shaky, breathless exhale. then you rolled onto your bed, your stomach flat on the mattress, and let out a muffled scream into your pillow.

***

dear, y/n,

it is a completely strange but nice feeling to realize you aren't trying to pull away anymore. you are slowly getting used to the feeling again, realizing it's okay to just let someone in without making everything so complicated.

you find yourself looking forward to see and hear from him again, no longer finding the shield to protect your composure.

the next morning arrived. you walked onto campus with a lighter step, the lingering echo of jungwon’s late-night words crawling in your mind like he planned to occupy every single corner of your head.

you spotted him almost immediately near the entrance of the lecture hall, leaning against the hallway wall with his hands casually tucked into his pockets as he chatted with a few classmates. the exact moment you stepped into view, his eyes instinctively separated from the crowd, tracking your approach with that same soft, unwavering focus that had defined the studio mirrors.

as you drew closer, the conversation around him seemed to fade into a quiet blur, leaving just the steady ground between the two of you.

"morning, y/n," jungwon murmured, his voice dropping into a softer, private register meant only for you as a genuine, dimpled smile broke across his face.

your heart gave a familiar, dangerous thump, but instead of panicking, you found yourself returning his smile. "morning, jungwon."

he stepped away from the wall, naturally falling into step right beside you as you walked through the threshold of the lecture hall. the sudden shift from the chaotic, noisy hallway to the relative quiet of the classroom felt seamless with him next to you. without even asking, he guided you toward the middle row, pulling out the chair right next to the one where his laptop and notebook were already neatly set up.

he had saved you a seat.

"you look awake for someone who was reading at 1 AM," he teased quietly, sliding into his chair and leaning his chin in his hand as he looked over at you, his eyes glinting with a familiar, playful mischief.

you felt a sudden rush of warmth in your cheeks, but you managed to look right back at him. "i told you, i had things to finish."

"right," he hummed, the corners of his lips twitching as the professor walked up to the podium and the lecture hall began to quiet down. jungwon opened his notebook, but before he focused on the board, he leaned in just a fraction closer, his voice a low, comforting murmur against the background noise of opening laptops. "we're getting dinner after this, by the way. i found a really good place nearby."

it wasn't even a question. it was an inivitation that you would spend your evening with him, and the terrifying part was that you didn't even want to object.

by the time the late-afternoon elective finally wrapped up, the sun was already dipping below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the campus pathways. you followed jungwon through the bustling streets just outside the university gates, the humid evening air a stark contrast to the air-conditioned lecture hall.

he led you down a quieter alley, stopping in front of a small, cozy restaurant with warm, low-hanging yellow lights glowing behind a tinted glass pane. inside, the space was small and intimate, filled with the soft chatter of other students and the rich, savory aroma of hot food.

"two?" the server asked, and jungwon nodded, naturally guiding you toward a booth tucked away in the back corner, away from the main walkway.

as you slipped into the leather seat, the soft ambient lighting washed over his features, throwing the sharp angles of his jawline and the deep set of his eyes into beautiful, soft relief. it felt completely different from the high-stakes pressure of the studio or the crowded campus. here, stripped of cameras and portfolios, it was just the two of you.

"order whatever you want," jungwon said, sliding the menu across the dark wooden table toward you, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting second that left a trail of static on your skin. "my treat today. to celebrate your successful photoshoot."

you looked up from the menu, a small, genuine smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "you give me too much credit. you did good too, you know."

jungwon let out a low, amused huff, leaning back against the leather booth as he looked at you through the warm, dim lighting of the restaurant. "is that so? i guess we make a pretty good team then."

your cheeks burned, “i guess we do.”

and as the weeks bled into a comfortable rhythm, you realized you really did.

that quiet dinner quickly transformed from a one-time celebration into a regular part of your routine. it happened so gradually that you didn't even notice the shift at first. one day you were just elective mates, then interns working on a shoot, and the next, he was naturally weaving you into every single part of his day, making it easy for you to navigate the lively, chaotic orbit of his massive social circle.

because jungwon was the type of guy who belonged to everyone, hanging out with him meant automatically being pulled into his circle. you became a familiar face at the crowded university cafeteria tables, sharing loud, overlapping conversations with his friends who welcomed you without a single second of hesitation. you watched him handle the campus attention with an easy, effortless charm, throwing bright smiles to passing students and keeping everyone laughing.

but the real magic always happened when the noise of the crowd finally thinned out. no matter how many people were vying for his attention during the day, the late evenings always distilled down to just the two of you, sitting across from each other at that same dark wooden table under the warm, low-hanging yellow lights.

"you're staring," jungwon murmured one rainy tuesday evening, a soft, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he set his chopsticks down.

you blinked, tearing your gaze away from the sharp line of his jaw to look down at your half-empty bowl. "i am not. i was just thinking."

"about what?" he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, closing the physical distance between you just enough to make the ambient chatter of the restaurant fade into the background.

"just... how you manage to keep up with everyone," you admitted honestly, gesturing vaguely toward the window where a group of students from his department had just waved at him through the glass. "you're always surrounded by people."

jungwon looked out the window for a brief second, then turned his focus back to you, his dark eyes softening into that intense, private expression he only ever used when the two of you were alone. "it's easy to talk to everyone, y/n. but that doesn't mean i want to spend my quiet hours with just anyone."

before you could even process the sudden, breathless skip of your heart, a confident, unfamiliar voice interrupted the space between you.

"hey, jungwon, right? i thought that was you."

you blinked, turning your head toward the edge of the booth. yoonchae from your class was standing there, looking effortlessly chic in a cropped leather jacket, a bright, confident smile fixed entirely on jungwon. she didn't even glance your way, completely erasing your presence from the table.

"i saw your latest photography feature on the department page," she continued smoothly, leaning slightly against the wooden partition of your booth. "it was amazing. i was actually wondering if you had time to collaborate on a editorial project next month? can i get your instagram or phone number?"

your chest tightened instantly. your mind, always looking for a reason to retreat, immediately clouded over with that familiar, suffocating insecurity. here it is, a bitter voice whispered in your head. this is his actual world. this girl was confident, stylish, and fit perfectly into the creative orbit he ran in. you were just the girl he casually helped out, the lesson he learned along the way to becoming a better photographer. you were a placeholder in his quiet hours until someone who actually belonged in his grid stepped up.

you lowered your eyes to your lap, your fingers gripping the fabric of your skirt as you prepared for him to give his usual, friendly campus smile and type his number into her phone.

"sorry, i can't," jungwon said.

his voice wasn't just polite; it was incredibly flat, completely stripped of the warm, universal charm he usually gave out so freely.

the girl blinked, caught off guard. "oh? are you too busy with the elective portfolio?"

jungwon didn't hesitate for a single second. he casually shifted in his seat, his hand moving across the table until his knuckles lightly brushed against your arm, drawing a firm, undeniable boundary in front of the stranger.

"no," jungwon said softly, his eyes dropping to you for a brief, reassuring second before he looked back up at the girl. "my girlfriend is right here. i don't take private project numbers."

your lungs completely locked up.

for a single, terrifying second, your heart fluttered so violently against your ribs it felt deafening. girlfriend. hearing the word leave his lips, spoken with such heavy, calm authority in his low voice, sent a sudden, dizzying rush of heat straight to your face.

but almost as fast as the thrill arrived, the cold weight of reality crashed right back down, pulling the warmth straight out of your chest.

yoonchae mumbled a quick, embarrassed apology and quickly retreated, but your mind had already clouded over, spiraling back into that familiar, suffocating insecurity.

you were just a prop.

the thought settled heavy and bitter in your stomach. because a guy like yang jungwon: a universally loved, constantly surrounded by people, and utterly effortless doesn't do serious relationships. he didn't need to. he was just a naturally attentive, overly nice guy who treated everyone with a baseline level of casual intimacy. he was smooth because it was his default setting, not because he was trying to win you over.

he didn't mean the word girlfriend. he had just used you as a convenient, safe shield to get out of an awkward conversation because he knew you wouldn't make a scene.

"sorry about that," jungwon murmured, turning his full attention back to you, his expression softening as if he hadn't just completely shattered your internal world. "she can be a bit persistent."

you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing a small, tight smile to your lips as your walls slammed shut with a heavy, definitive thud.

"t-tell me about it," you said, forcing a small, hollow laugh as you poked at your food. "good strategy though. i make a pretty believable prop, don't i?"

you tried to look up and give him a funny, conspiratorial wink—anything to bury the suffocating weight crashing down on your chest. but your smile didn't reach your eyes, and your voice cracked just a fraction too much on the last word.

and jungwon, being the observant person he was, didn't laugh.

the easy, playful expression completely melted off his face, replaced by a quiet, piercing focus that made you want to look away. he slowly set his glass down on the table, his dark eyes tracking the slight tremor in your fingers before locking onto yours.

“you okay, y/n?” he asked softly, bending down to look at your eyes. but you quickly avoided him.

“y-yeah. just got something in my eye is all. listen, i still have some projects to finish so i need to go.”

“let me take you home–”

"no!" you quickly interrupted, scrambling to grab your bag. "i mean, wouldn't want to overstep." and just like that, you ran out of the restaurant before he could even reach for the bill.

what you didn’t know was jungwon felt his own chest tighten.

***

dear, y/n,

this is exactly why you should’ve kept your walls up.

it is a painful, heavy thing to realize how quickly you can fall back into the habit of building walls. you are slowly getting used to the feeling again, realizing that the only way to keep your heart safe from someone who belongs to the world is to completely remove yourself from the equation.

you tell yourself it’s safer to just be distant again. it’s way easier to pretend you don't care than to risk believing you actually matter to someone like him.

a week has passed since that day.

today, the morning arrived with a gray, overcast sky that seemed to match the cold numbness settling back into your chest. you walked onto campus with a heavy, deliberate step, your eyes strictly fixed on the concrete pathways to avoid scanning the crowds for a familiar shock of dark hair. you had your oversized jacket pulled tightly around you like armor, determined to slip back into the quiet anonymity of being just another student in the department.

you managed to avoid the main lecture hall entrance entirely, slipping through the side doors and taking a seat in the very last row, tucked far away from the middle rows where you had spent the last few weeks.

"y/n."

your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag at the sound of his voice.

jungwon was standing at the end of the row, looking completely exhausted. the usual easy, universal charm was entirely missing from his face, his dark eyes shadowed with a quiet, desperate intensity as he looked down at you. he didn't care that a few passing classmates were glancing over at his unusually tense posture; his focus was entirely locked onto you.

"you didn't answer my texts," he said softly, his voice dropping into that private register, though this time it sounded raw, carrying a heavy weight that made your chest ache. "i kept calling you."

you swallowed the lump in your throat, forcing your expression to remain perfectly flat as you looked up at him, refusing to let him see how much you were hurting. "i told you, jungwon. i had projects to finish. you don't need to check up on me."

jungwon took a step closer into the row, his knuckles white as he gripped the back of the empty chair in front of you. "you’re not a prop. at the restaurant. i’m sorry i hurt you."

you looked down at your hands, refusing to meet his eyes because you knew your expression would crumble.

"it's fine, jungwon," you whispered, trying to force your voice to sound completely detached. "it was just a joke. you don't have to apologize for something petty."

"it wasn't a joke to me," he cut in, his voice dropping even lower, thick with a frustration you had never heard from him before. he slid into the empty seat right next to you, his presence suddenly overwhelming the small space in the back row. "i didn't say it just to make her leave, y/n. i said it because... because it didn't feel entirely like a lie to me."

your breath hitched, your eyes snapping up to look at him.

jungwon was leaning in close, his usual calm demeanor completely shattered. he looked vulnerable, almost fragile, his dark eyes searching your face for any sign of the warmth you used to give him so easily.

"there's actually someone i really like right now," he murmured, the confession slipping into the quiet space between you like a heavy secret. "and seeing her stand there, asking for my number...it just made me realize how much i only want to focus on one person."

he was looking at you with so much quiet intensity, his lips slightly parted as if he was waiting for you to understand, waiting for you to realize exactly who he was talking about.

but your brain, completely clouded by a week of suffocating insecurity, didn't see the love in his eyes. it only saw a devastating confirmation of your worst fear.

he likes someone else.

the words echoed like a physical blow inside your head. you were the practice run. the lesson.

"oh," you forced out, the word tasting like lead on your tongue. you managed to pull a tight, completely empty smile onto your face, even as your chest felt like it was physically breaking. "i... i didn't know. she's really lucky, jungwon. i hope it works out for you."

before he could even react to the sudden, freezing distance in your voice, you stood up, grabbing your bag and stepping past his frozen frame into the aisle, running away before the tears blinding your vision could finally fall.

“you.”

you didn't move. you couldn't breathe. for a second, you thought you were hallucinating.

slowly, you turned around.

jungwon was already standing up. his shoulders tense as he stared straight at you.

"it's you, y/n," he said, his voice cracking slightly on your name as he closed the small distance between you in two long steps, stopping just close enough that you could feel the sudden warmth radiating off him. "the girl i like. the only person i want to focus on. it's been you this entire time."

she would feel an absolute, dizzying rush of cognitive dissonance—like the ground had suddenly been pulled out from under her boots. after a whole week of meticulously convincing herself that she was completely invisible and just a temporary "lesson" in his life, his sudden confession completely short-circuits her brain.

her walls are still up, but they are cracking violently. she is caught between a desperate, fluttering spark of hope and the terrifying urge to protect herself from a cruel joke.

"it's you, y/n," he said, his voice cracking slightly on your name as he closed the small distance between you in two long steps, stopping just close enough that you could feel the sudden warmth radiating off him. "the girl i like. the only person i want to focus on. it's been you this entire time."

your brain completely short-circuited.

you stared at him, your chest heaving as you tried to find a catch, a punchline, anything to make reality align with your insecurities again. but jungwon’s face was completely raw, his lower lip slightly trembling as he waited for you to say something.

“w-what?” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper as you took a small, panicked step back. “when? why?”

the questions tumbled out of you in a frantic, unpolished rush, stripping away all the cold, distant armor you had tried so hard to build.

"what do you mean why?" jungwon asked, a breathless, incredulous laugh escaping his lips as he took a step forward to close the gap you had just made. he reached out, his fingers gently captured your wrist, his thumb resting right over your racing pulse.

he let out a low, shaky exhale, his thumb moving in a slow, comforting circle against your skin, trying to ground you through your panic.

"i fell for you on our very first day as interns," he murmured, his dark eyes softening completely as he brought you back to the beginning. "remember that chaotic first shoot? everyone was running around, but i couldn't take my eyes off you. you were so shy, yet you were completely locked in. i loved how focused you were, how much heart you put into every single task. you were radiant, y/n. in a room full of people trying to stand out, you stood out to me just by being you."

he took a small step closer, his voice dropping into that intense, private register that belonged only to you.

"i did everything because i wanted an excuse to be near you," he whispered. "it's been you since that exact day. how could you think it was anyone else?"

“i was…i was never the one,” you whispered. “i was never the one that people think i’m worth staying for.”

jungwon let out a sharp, ragged breath, his grip on your wrist tightening just enough to keep you anchored as your words physically pained him. the easy, polite campus favorite completely disappeared, replaced by a boy who looked entirely devastated that the girl he loved felt so invisible.

he didn't hesitate. he took that final step, closing the remaining distance between you until he was gently framing your face with his hands, his thumbs carefully wiping away the tears on your cheeks.

"i'm not going anywhere, y/n. i'm staying right here. with you."

***

dear, y/n,

it turns out that rewriting the script in your head is a slow, terrifying process.

for a long time, you were completely sure you were just the type of girl guys date before finding the one they actually want to settle down with. you really believed you were just a temporary phase. but now, jungwon is completely focused on you, and he isn't looking for anyone else.

you're still really anxious, though. every time your phone lights up, a part of you still expects him to text you saying he changed his mind or made a mistake. but he doesn't. instead, he just keeps showing up and proving you wrong.

nothing is official yet. you didn't suddenly become his girlfriend overnight. but even without a label, everything between you two feels completely different now.

on a tuesday morning, you didn't sit in the back row.

you had tried to, out of habit. your fingers pulling the strap of your oversized bag tight against your shoulder as you entered the side door. but jungwon was already there, sitting in the middle row right where you two used to be. the moment the door clicked, his head snapped up, his dark eyes instantly finding yours in the crowd.

he didn't wave or make a scene, but a small, private smile tugged at the corner of his lips. he casually lifted his laptop sleeve off the empty plastic chair beside him, claiming the space before anyone else could even think to take it.

your heart did that familiar, breathless flutter as you walked down the steps.

"hey," he murmured softly as you slid into the seat, his voice dropping into that private register that still made your face flush. he didn't slide his hand over yours or push your boundaries, but he reached into his jacket pocket and slid a small, familiar plastic bottle across the desk.

it was a fresh bottle of the exact soothing eye drops you always used when your eyes got tired from staring at editing screens.

"since you had something in your eye last week," jungwon said, his eyes crinkling slightly with a gentle, teasing warmth that completely lacked any judgment. "just in case."

you stared at the bottle, the lump in your throat returning, but this time it wasn't from sadness. "jungwon, you didn't have to—"

"i wanted to," he interrupted softly, leaning his elbow on the desk so he could look at you properly.

and then he did the one thing that always sent your heart into an absolute frenzy.

he leaned his elbow on the desk, tilting his head as he intentionally closed the distance between you. jungwon brought his face so close you could trace the sharp line of his jaw, the faint scent of his laundry detergent instantly filling your senses. his dark eyes locked onto yours, completely invading your personal space in that quiet, effortless way only he could pull off.

“j-jungwon?” you stammered, your voice coming out as a tiny, embarrassed squeak as you tried to press your back against the hard plastic of your chair to gain an inch of safety.

“mhm?” he murmured, not moving back even a fraction of a millimeter. instead, a tiny, knowing smirk began to pull at the corner of his lips, clearly enjoying how easily he could throw you off balance.

“y-you’re too close,” you whispered frantically, your hands gripping your desk as you looked around to see if anyone was watching. “mr. lee just entered the room.”

jungwon didn't panic. instead, his smirk widened just a fraction, his dark eyes brimming with amusement at your flustered reaction.

slowly, casually, he leaned back into his own space just as the professor set his briefcase on the podium. but right before he completely pulled away, jungwon leaned in one last inch, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper right against your ear.

"mr. lee can wait," he murmured, his tone dripping with a quiet, playful confidence. "but fine. i'll let you focus on the lecture. for now."

he straightened up in his seat, opening his notebook with perfect poise as if he hadn't just completely set your nerve endings on fire. but as he picked up his pen, he deliberately shifted his notebook just an inch closer to yours, his shoulder lightly brushing against your arm—a constant, warm reminder that he wasn't going anywhere.

now that you and jungwon are now aware of feelings towards each other, he has become flirtier each day. but with boundaries. he still asks if it’s okay to hold your hand, place his arm around your shoulder when walking, always checking in with a quiet, questioning look before stepping an inch closer into your space.

and every time he notices you second guessing if you want something, he takes the initiative of doing it. so in days that you do want to hold his hand but too shy to ask, he gently places his hand under yours and locks your fingers. and of course, it sent your heart into overdrive.

on friday afternoon, as the campus was emptying out, jungwon slung his backpack over one shoulder and leaned against the edge of your desk.

"a few of my seniors are holding a small wrap-up gallery in the department studio tonight," he said, tilting his head to catch your eyes. "then we’ll have an after party. just some music, drinks, and looking over the final print layouts. i want you to come with me."

your fingers paused on your notebook. the familiar, anxious tightening returned to your chest, your mind instantly telling you that you didn't belong in a room full of talented, confident upperclassmen who already knew him so well.

“is it alright?” you whispered, looking up at him uncertainty. “i don't want to intrude.”

jungwon’s expression softened instantly. he didn't laugh or dismiss your worry. instead, he stepped closer, blocking out the rest of the noisy hallway so it was just the two of you.

"you're not intruding, y/n," he said softly, his voice steady and completely serious as he reached down to gently tap the back of your hand. "i'm the one asking you. i want you to be there. with me."

then the night of the gallery came.

the studio was packed, filled with the low hum of indie music, the clinking of plastic cups, and the bright, warm glow of track lighting illuminating the rows of framed photographs along the walls. jungwon had been caught by a group of design seniors the moment you walked through the door. you had gently nudged his shoulder, giving him a small smile to let him know you didn't mind, before slipping away into the crowd to look around on your own.

the talent in the room was undeniable, but as you wandered down the final row of the exhibition, your steps slowed to a complete halt in front of a small, dedicated corner panel.

your breath caught in your throat.

the first frame was a candid shot from your very first day as interns. it was the chaotic studio set, cluttered with stray wires and half-assembled lighting rigs, but the camera hadn’t focused on the set. it was focused entirely on you. you sat on a crate with your face angled away, completely locked into adjusting a camera lens.

the second frame was the campus lecture hall taken from a low angle. it captured the stark, geometric lines of the plastic desks, but the focus was trained on the middle rows where you two always used to sit. a soft, natural light filtered through the gray windows, hitting the exact spot where his notebook usually brushed against yours.

and the final photograph made your heart do a sudden, breathless flip.

it was the outside of the restaurant from a week ago, taken through the glass window under a heavy, overcast sky. the frame captured the exact table where everything had boiled over, the blurry reflection of the street lights casting a quiet, moody atmosphere over the empty chairs.

the photos were the places you had been with him.

beneath the triptych of photos was a small, white card printed with a simple title:

paying attention.

"i didn't put your face on blast, i promise," a soft voice murmured right behind your ear.

​you turned around to find jungwon right behind you, his hands in his pockets as he smiled down at you.

"i asked the professor if i could keep the subject anonymous on the final prints," he explained softly, stepping a little closer into your space. "i wanted to show you how i see you, but... is this okay? if it makes you uncomfortable, i can take them down right now. seriously."

"no," you whispered, a genuine smile finally breaking through the remnants of your anxiety. "don't take them down. they're... really beautiful."

without second guessing, you threw your arms around jungwon.

you felt a deep, grounding warmth expand in your chest—the realization that you were someone worth paying attention to.

after five hours, the after-party finally started. the room was alive with everyone cheering, laughing, and clinking their beer glasses together in celebration.

​“congrats to us!” jungwon's senior, lee chan, toasted, raising his glass high into the air.

after taking a sip, chan’s eyes flicked over to you, a warm smile breaking across his face. "and thanks for coming, y/n! jungwon was practically talking about it for days.”

​your face flushed a sudden crimson, your eyes darting over to jungwon.

​jungwon just let out a soft laugh, completely unbothered by his senior exposing him. he casually slung an arm around your shoulder, bringing you securely into the circle. "ignore him," he murmured down to you, his thumb lightly rubbing against your arm. "but he's not entirely wrong."

“jungwon, hey!”

yoonchae was there again. you remembered that she was probably only around because her brother was in the same department as jungwon, a detail he had mentioned to you weeks ago.

​“yoonchae, hi.”

​“so, i heard from my brother that you and y/n aren't actually dating," she started, pulling her phone out of her bag and extending it toward him with a hopeful smile. "so… i was thinking if i can maybe, you know? come on, it's not like you're taken, right?”

​“yoonchae, i've already told you before that i am interested in someone.” jungwon didn't hesitate for a single second. he reached down, deliberately capturing your hand and locking his fingers tightly with yours. “she's right here. dating or not, y/n is the only girl i like.”

yoonchae’s jaw dropped slightly. she stared at jungwon, entirely speechless at how effortlessly and publicly he had rejected her.

​she looked at you, then back at jungwon. without uttering another syllable, she gave a stiff, embarrassed nod and quickly slipped away into the crowd.

the night continued with you and jungwon completely melting into the crowd. almost everyone couldn't help but tease him, laughing at how he looked like a total lovesick puppy and constantly joking about how he had finally found his muse.

​eventually, the party wound down, and the two of you walked home together through the quiet streets. your hand was wrapped in his, his fingers locked firmly in yours.

​“wasn't that too harsh?” you asked softly, breaking the silence as you looked down at your joined hands.

​“not if she completely ignored your presence,” jungwon replied without a shred of regret, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

​you bit your inner lip, your heart doing a small flutter as you built up the courage to ask the question that had been looping in your head. “but... were you serious? about what you said?”

​jungwon looked down at you with a slow, knowing smirk. he knew exactly what you meant, but he wanted to hear you say it. “which part?”

​your eyes grew wide, but you tried your absolute best to maintain your composure. “you know... the part where you said... you like me.” the last few words came out as a quiet mumble, your face burning.

​“what's that?” he teased, tilting his head closer to yours. “didn't quite catch that.”

​“jungwon,” you whined, pulling slightly on his hand.

​“what? come on, say it clearly,” he laughed.

​“jungwon!” you whined again, hiding your face slightly behind your free hand.

​but then, the teasing look in his eyes began to shift. his laughter quieted down, replaced by a soft, intense focus that made the breath hitch in your throat. the ambient hum of the streetlights overhead suddenly felt incredibly loud as he stopped walking, causing you to pause right along with him.

​“you are,” jungwon murmured, his voice dropping into a gentle, low register. he lifted your hand, his thumb softly tracing the knuckles before he let go of the tight grip to hold just your fingertips, his skin warm against yours. “i really like you, y/n.”

​the sheer sincerity in his dark eyes stripped away all of your remaining defense mechanisms. the anxiety that usually kept you trapped in your own head completely evaporated, leaving only the honest, racing beat of your heart.

​“i-i really like you too,” you whispered back, your voice small but steady.

​jungwon took a slow step closer, completely closing the distance between you. his free hand came up, his fingers brushing light as a feather against your jawline before his thumb settled right at the corner of your cheekbone, tilting your face up just a fraction. he didn't rush. he just stood there for a breathless second, his gaze flicking down to your lips before locking back onto your wide eyes, waiting patiently for you to adjust to how close he was.

​“can i kiss you?” he asked softly, his thumb giving your cheek a reassuring, tender stroke.

​“please,” you whispered, the word leaving your lips like a breathless plea.

​a soft smile broke across jungwon’s face at your response. he didn't wait another second. his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair as he leaned down and finally pressed his lips to yours, sweet and slow.

​it made your heart do a dizzying, breathless flip. his lips were incredibly soft, parting slightly as he pulled you just a fraction closer against his chest. your fingers instinctively gripped the fabric of his jacket, your whole body melting into the touch as a warm, electric flutter rushed from your chest straight down to your toes.

as both of you pulled away from the kiss, jungwon let his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you back in for a quick, tight hug. he buried his face in the crook of your neck for a second, letting out a soft hum of satisfaction that made your heart do another dizzying flip.

​“does this mean we're… boyfriend and girlfriend?” you asked shyly, your fingers lightly gripping the fabric of his jacket.

​jungwon let out a soft giggle against your skin, the vibration tickling your neck before he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes full of warmth. “yes. yes, i'd love that.”

***

​dear y/n,

​it is a beautiful thing indeed to be able to find someone. you are incredibly, genuinely happy, and your heart doesn't feel like it's constantly bracing for impact anymore.

​but being with jungwon has also taught you that a real relationship isn't all cupcakes and rainbows. there are still days when your old insecurities and tendencies to overthink flare up out of nowhere, making you quiet and distant.

​loving someone isn't a magical cure for anxiety. it doesn't fix the pieces of you that feel broken.

you and jungwon had a date today. it's been weeks since you have been girlfriend and boyfriend. and it was the happiest you've felt in a while.

a knock startled you out of your thoughts as you checked your outfit one more time. you had opted for a classic combination: a warm cream cardigan layered over a simple tee, paired with structured wide-leg trousers that made you feel completely put-together yet comfortable.

wonhee was grinning brightly at you, stepping right into the entryway the moment the door swung open. without a word, she reached forward to gently adjust the collar of your tee and smooth down the shoulder of your cream cardigan. "there. perfect. you look so effortlessly pretty today! are you ready for your date?”

​“a bit nervous,” you admitted, feeling a sudden jolt of nervous electricity running through your system.

“hey,” wonhee placed her hand kn your shoulder, “you got this. and if jungwon doesn't see how incredibly lucky he is to have you, just let me know. i will personally make sure every single senior in his department knows he’s an absolute fool, and his pristine reputation will be completely ruined by tomorrow morning.”

“wonhee,” you taunt.

“i'm just saying.” wonhee giggled, gently grabbing your shoulders and turning you toward the door. she gave you a playful nudge forward. "now stop stalling and go. he’s probably already waiting outside, and you shouldn't keep your boyfriend waiting."

boyfriend.

on cue, a knock came again, and this time, you answered it.

​when the door swung open, jungwon was standing there, looking effortlessly handsome in a simple jacket. the moment his eyes landed on you, his breath hitched slightly, his gaze sweeping over your cream cardigan and wide-leg trousers with a look of pure, unadulterated admiration.

​“hi,” you murmured, your heart doing a familiar flutter.

​“hi,” he replied softly, a warm smile breaking across his face as if he couldn't help himself. “you look beautiful.”

​“you ready?” he asked, his voice low and comforting.

​you nodded your head, the last of your nervous jitters completely melting away. jungwon offered his arm, and you gladly looped yours through it, stepping out into the hallway as he gently pressed your arm closer to his side, making you feel completely secure before you even left the building.

jungwon takes you out to a beautiful, open-air city square where the evening breeze carries the distant chatter of people and the soft glow of fairy lights tangled in the trees. walking arm-in-arm, he effortlessly shields you from the busier walkways, pointing out little shops or laughing at the synchronized fountains, making the wide, bright world feel incredibly small and private just for the two of you.

​you smiled, the warmth in your chest blooming beautifully. but as you stepped past a brightly lit clothing storefront, the air in your lungs suddenly turned to ice.

​“jungwon, is that actually you?”

​the soft, bright voice called out from the restaurant entrance. jungwon paused, turning his head, and you felt his entire posture straighten up in surprise. walking toward your table was a girl with an effortless, radiant smile and a polished grace that made the entire room feel a little brighter.

​“minji!” jungwon’s face lit up with immediate, genuine recognition as he stood up to greet her. “wow, it’s been so long. what are you doing back here?”

​“my family just moved back to the area,” she laughed, her voice carrying a familiar, easy warmth. jungwon immediately turned to you, his hand reaching for yours to introduce you.

“minji, this is y/n. my girlfriend.”

“omg, hi! finally, jungwon has gotten himself a girlfriend.”

​she was completely lovely. she didn't do a single thing wrong. but as she chatted with jungwon for a few minutes about their old neighborhood before waving goodbye, a suffocating wave of anxiety washed over you.

​she was stunning. her hair sat perfectly, her laugh was effortless, and she possessed a kind of glowing, unbothered confidence that you felt miles away from. sitting across from jungwon again, your cream cardigan suddenly felt suffocating, and your wide-leg trousers felt like a clumsy attempt at looking put-together. the food on your plate suddenly looked unappetizing as the old, familiar voice whispered that you were completely out of your league.

​“y/n? hey, you’re getting quiet on me,” jungwon murmured softly, leaning across the table, his dark eyes full of immediate concern. “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

​you stared down at your fingers, tracing the edge of the napkin to keep your voice steady. “she’s… really pretty, jungwon.”

​“she’s an old friend,” he replied instantly, a gentle, reassuring smile breaking across his face. “i promise that's all.”

​you swallowed past the lump in your throat, the overthinking brain refusing to let go of the bone. “did anything… ever happen between you two? back then?”

​“no, never,” jungwon said easily, shaking his head. “we were just kids who grew up on the same block. we played video games and rode bikes. that was literally it.”

​you looked up, your eyes searching his face, silent and unconvinced. jungwon sighed softly, a tiny, amused but fond smile tugging at his lips as he realized he couldn't hide anything from you. he reached across the table, covering your cold hand with his warm one.

​“okay, fine,” he gave in gently, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. “the only thing that ever happened was that our parents used to tease us. when we were around ten, our moms joked around a lot about how we’d probably end up getting married because we were inseparable. but it was just a silly parents' joke.”

​he meant it as a reassuring confession to show how ridiculous the history was, but inside your chest, the words landed with a heavy, deafening thud.

​married.

​“baby,” jungwon murmured, his hands coming up to gently hold your fingers. he looked down at you, his eyes completely honest. “i'm sorry. i shouldn't have brought that up so carelessly. when we were kids, maybe there was a silly, innocent part of me that had a crush on her back then. but i swear to you, those feelings are completely gone. they've been gone for years.”

​when you wouldn't look at him, your eyes still trained on the ground as you tried to process the heavy spiral in your chest, jungwon didn't get frustrated or tell you that you were overreacting.

​instead, he patiently guided your cold hands up, cupping them securely against his warm cheeks and leaning his face into your soft touch. he tilted his head just enough so that you were forced to see the absolute sincerity in his gaze.

​“our parents made jokes about the past, but i'm looking at my future right now,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your wrist, his heartbeat steady and grounding beneath your palms. “it's only you, y/n. it's always just been you.”

“how sure are you about that?”

​“how sure are you about that?” you whispered, your voice cracking slightly under the weight of your own mind. you hated how small you sounded, hated that even with his face leaning so trustingly into your hands, the ugly, loud voice of your anxiety was still trying to convince you that you were a second choice.

​jungwon didn't blink. he didn't sigh in frustration, and he didn't let go of your hands. instead, he just closed his eyes for a brief second, absorbing the raw vulnerability of your question, before looking right back at you with a gaze so steady it felt like an anchor.

​“because when i was ten, i didn't know what loving someone actually meant,” he said softly, his voice incredibly quiet but unshakeable. “i thought it was just sharing toys and living on the same block. but with you? i know exactly what it is.”

​he kissed the palm of your right hand, his lips warm against your cold skin.

​“i'm sure because when something good happens, you're the first person i want to call. i'm sure because even when you get quiet and distant like this, i don't want to be anywhere else in the world except right here, waiting it out with you. minji is a part of a childhood scrapbook, y/n. but you are my real life. you are my today, and you're the only one i want for tomorrow.”

you let out a shaky breath you didn't realize you were holding, the heavy knot in your chest finally loosening under the steady, unshakeable warmth of his words. the ugly, loud whispers of your overthinking brain slowly faded into silence, replaced entirely by the sound of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

​he was right. she was the past, but you were his right now.

​“okay,” you whispered, a small, watery but genuine smile finally breaking across your lips. “i believe you.”

​jungwon smiled back, a look of pure relief crossing his handsome face. he kissed the palm of your hand one more time before lowering your hands, locking his fingers tightly with yours as the two of you began walking down the glowing, tree-lined street once again. the anxiety hadn't completely vanished from your system—it rarely ever did—but with his side pressed warmly against yours, the world felt safe again.

​but your worries did not disappear overnight.

months have passed since that evening of your first date, filled with shared laughter and a love that grew steadier with each passing day. jungwon had proven his words true over and over again, never letting you drift when the overthinking got too loud.

​yet, the mind is a stubborn thing.

jungwon was and is serious about you. every small gesture, every patient reassurance when you got quiet, and every look he gave you proved that you weren't just a passing chapter in his life. so, he decided that it was finally time for his parents to meet you. he wanted you to meet the people who mattered most to him, completely missing the way your stomach instantly dropped in panic.

“my son!”

as soon as the door opened to jungwon’s condo, his mom gave him a tight hug, immediately stepping past him to look at you with a wide, welcoming smile. jungwon laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his mom's shoulders before gently pulling you into the space alongside them.

“mom, let me breathe first,” he teased gently, though his eyes were bright with happiness as he looked between the two of you.

“but i miss my baby!”

this was the first time you can genuinely see jungwon embarrassed, but it was adorable. his cheeks flushed a faint, endearing pink as he cleared his throat, trying to regain his usual cool composure while his dad just chuckled behind them, carrying a small box of side dishes into the kitchen.

all was going well. the conversation flowed effortlessly over the sound of clinking chopsticks and quiet laughter.

“you know, y/n, jungwon has been smiling so much more lately,” his mom mentioned softly, reaching over to squeeze your wrist. “whenever we call him on the weekends, he’s always in a good mood because he’s either on his way to see you or just got back from a date. you’ve been such a wonderful influence on him.”

“thank you, mrs. yang,” you murmured softly, using the title she had warmly insisted on earlier. you felt a genuine sense of relief wash over you.

but that relief was cut short when his father set down his glass, looking between the two of you with a reflective nod. “it’s just so interesting seeing jungwon with someone so quiet and gentle,” his father noted with a thoughtful, friendly smile. “you know, his mother and i always assumed he’d end up with someone loud and full of energy, like minji. they grew up together, so we were just so used to that specific dynamic. but it’s good that he’s learning to appreciate a different kind of presence now.”

learning to appreciate.

your stomach completely dropped. they weren't trying to be mean at all. it was just a casual comment. but hearing his dad say that made your worst fear feel real. to them, minji was the standard: the girl who naturally fit into his life.

suddenly, that creeping feeling was crawling back into your system and into your head.

this option focuses on him noticing y/n's discomfort right away and stepping in to protect her peace.

jungwon, who had been watching you the entire time, saw the exact moment your face went rigid. without a second thought, his hand reached under the table, finding your ice-cold fingers and squeezing them tightly.

“that was a completely different time, dad,” jungwon cut in smoothly, his voice calm but incredibly firm as he looked directly at his father. “who i was when i was ten years old doesn't matter. y/n is my present, and she’s exactly who i like.”

his mother’s eyes widened slightly at jungwon's serious tone, her expression shifting into immediate regret. she looked at you, her face full of genuine worry.

“oh, dear, i’m so sorry,” his mom said softly, reaching across the table to gently touch your arm. “your father didn't mean it that way at all. we are so happy you’re here with him.”

“yes, please forgive an old man's clumsy words, y/n,” his dad added quickly, looking incredibly apologetic. “i only meant that we are glad to see how happy and grounded jungwon is with you. we really didn't mean to compare you.”

you managed to nod politely, offering his parents a tight, small smile. “it’s okay, mrs. yang. mr. yang, really. don’t worry about it.”

you forced yourself to get through the rest of the dinner. you chewed your food without tasting it, laughed at the right moments, and politely helped clear the plates. you didn't storm out, but your anxiety made you want to disappear.

the second the front door clicked shut and his parents finally left, the fake smile dropped from your face. your breath hitched, and the hot tears you had been holding back for the last hour finally slipped down your cheeks.

jungwon turned around immediately, his face full of pain as he stepped toward you. “y/n, baby, hey—”

“jungwon, please,” you whispered, stepping back, your hands trembling as you wrapped them around yourself. you couldn't take his comfort right now. the ugly thoughts were too loud. “i just… i think i need to go home.”

“y/n, look at me. you heard what i told them. she’s not like that to me. why are you pushing me away?”

“because they look at me and they see a lesson!” your voice finally broke, a sharp, painful sob escaping your throat. “they look at me and see someone who is helping you grow up, jungwon. what if that’s all i am to you? what if i’m just the person you’re with until you’re ready to go back to someone like her?”

jungwon flinched as if you had physically struck him. a heavy, painful silence fell over the apartment. he took a slow breath, his dark eyes brimming with a mix of deep hurt and sheer frustration that he couldn't seem to break through the walls of your anxiety.

“is that really all you think of me?” he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously quiet, raw whisper. “after all these months, you still think i’m just using you as a placeholder?”

he stepped forward, refusing to let you shrink away this time, his hands gently but firmly capturing your trembling wrists.

“i am not your ex, i’m not your fling, and i’m not jongseong, y/n,” he said, his voice shaking slightly with emotion as he looked directly into your tear-filled eyes. “i don't need a lesson, and i don't need to practice how to love someone. i love you. i chose you, and i am pouring everything i have into us. it hurts so bad that you’re letting a careless comment throw away everything we’ve built.”

you stared at him through a blur of hot tears, his grip on your wrists feeling less like an anchor and more like a trap you desperately needed to escape. you heard his words. he loves youand he isn't your ex. but the chaotic noise inside your head was just too loud. you were completely emotionally exhausted.

“jungwon, please,” you choked out, pulling your wrists back out of his hold. you couldn't look him in the eye, unable to bear the heavy hurt radiating from him. “i can’t… i can’t do this right now. i just really need to go home.”

jungwon stood perfectly still, his hands hanging empty in the space between you. he looked at your trembling shoulders, realizing that no matter what he said right now, your mind was miles away, trapped in a past he hadn't created.

he let out a long, heavy breath, his head dropping for a second before he looked back up at you with soft, tired eyes.

“okay,” he whispered quietly, his voice thick with unvoiced exhaustion. he didn't fight you, and he didn't force you to stay. instead, he reached for his car keys on the counter. “i’ll drive you.”

“no,” you said quickly, stepping back toward the door before he could even take a step toward you. “no, jungwon, please don't.”

jungwon froze, his fingers tightening around his car keys. “y/n, it’s late. i’m not letting you go out there alone like this.”

“i’ll book a ride. i just… if i get in the car with you right now, i feel like i won't be able to breathe,” you confessed, your voice dropping to a desperate, raw whisper. you hated hurting him, but the walls of the apartment already felt like they were crashing down on you. “i need to be completely alone. please.”

the word please seemed to deflate whatever fight jungwon had left in him. he looked at you, seeing the genuine panic in your eyes, and realized that forcing himself to accompany you would only make your spiral worse. it broke his heart, but he put his car keys back down on the counter.

“okay,” he whispered softly, his voice heavy with defeat. “i won't force you. but let me book your ride. let me at least do that so i know you're in a safe car.”

you didn't have the energy to argue. you just stood by the door, hugging yourself tightly as jungwon quietly pulled out his phone, his hands trembling slightly as he booked a ride to your apartment.

when the app showed the driver was outside, he walked over and opened the door for you. he didn't try to hug you or touch you, completely respecting the distance you asked for.

“text me when you get inside your room,” jungwon said, his dark eyes brimming with so much quiet love and unspoken hurt as he watched you step out into the hallway. “even if you don't want to talk to me, just send a dot. please. just let me know you're safe.”

you nodded your head and closed the door. as you walked down the hallway and headed toward the car, you finally let your tears fall, not caring if the receptionist in the lobby or the driver saw you.

***

dear y/n,

you thought you were completely past this after all these months of quiet, steady happiness.

he is good to you, and he has done absolutely nothing wrong. your heart knows he isn't the one who hurt you, but the fear of history repeating itself is paralyzing. you ran away tonight because the walls were closing in, and you are so terrified of ruining something beautiful.

you are standing at a crossroads now, completely exhausted from fighting your own mind. you want to believe you deserve this love, but the urge to protect yourself is pulling you backward. the storm inside you is loud, but will you still find the strength to trust and give it a try?

you texted jungwon that you needed space. you told him you just needed to make sure history wasn't repeating itself.

it took a few long, agonizing minutes before your phone buzzed in your hand.

jungwon: i understand. take all the time you need, y/n. i’m not going anywhere, and i’m not letting go of us. please just rest well tonight.

staring at the glowing screen, a fresh wave of tears blurred your vision. he was giving you the exact reassurance you desperately needed, yet the heavy, unresolved space between you felt wider than ever.

days turned into weeks and the space between you only grew heavier. neither of you reached out, the silence lingering like an unspoken question that you were both too afraid to answer.

you had thought that having this time to yourself would help clear your head and make you feel safe again. instead, the endless quiet only proved that the ghost of your past wasn’t something he was creating—it was something you were still carrying all on your own. missing him had become a constant, dull ache in your chest, making you realize that the walls you built to protect yourself were only keeping you trapped in your own loneliness.

the realization hit you fully when you found yourself staring at an old photo of the two of you, his bright, genuine smile a stark contrast to the hollow ache currently sitting in your chest. you had spent so much time trying to make sure history wasn't repeating itself that you hadn't noticed you were the one sabotaging your own present. it was finally time to stop letting your fear dictate your future, even if your hands were still shaking at the thought of making things right.

but you were too scared. maybe you didn’t deserve that second chance when all he did was be so nice and gentle, giving you the love you had been searching for all along.

on cue, your phone lit up with an unexpected video call notification. you slid the button to answer, clearing your throat before speaking. “jongseong, hey!”

“hey, y/n,” jongseong replied, his face appearing on the screen. he gave you a small wave, looking totally relaxed but a bit curious. “i’m only calling because a few really sad heartbreak tweets popped up on my timeline today, and i noticed you liked one of them. it just felt a little out of character for you. are you doing okay? any problems between you and jungwon?”

you froze, the heavy silence of your room suddenly feeling magnified through the speaker. your throat felt completely tight, and your mind scrambled for a safe lie, a polite excuse, or any regular answer to cover up the mess inside your head. but looking at jongseong’s kind, expectant face on the screen, the wall you had built over the past few weeks finally crumbled.

you let out a shaky breath, looking down at your lap because you couldn't bear to hold his gaze anymore.

“do you know that there are two types of people in the world?” you murmured, your voice cracking slightly as the tears threatened to spill over again. “the lesson and the one. sadly, i’m the lesson.”

“okay…” he said slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned closer to the camera. “i’m not following. what do you mean by that, y/n?”

“i mean… some people only enter a person’s life to teach them how to love, how to grow, or how to be better for the next person,” you whispered, a single tear finally slipping down your cheek. “they’re just a temporary chapter. they're the lesson. and then there are the people who get to stay forever. they’re the one.”

you finally looked up at the screen, your eyes completely raw and vulnerable as you stared at him.

“his parents think i'm just a phase, jongseong. they think i'm just someone he's with until he's ready to go back to a blueprint that naturally fits his world. and the worst part is… i’m starting to think they’re right.”

you let out a tired, shaky sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“you know my history, jongseong. you’ve seen firsthand how many times i’ve been left behind, and how much it took for me to piece myself back together,” you murmured, your voice dropping to a soft, exhausted whisper. “i already know exactly how it feels to be the lesson that helps a man grow up for someone else. i’ve been that girl my entire life, and i just… i don’t think i have the strength to go through that all over again with him.”

jongseong went completely quiet on the other end of the line, his expression softening as your words settled over him. he rubbed the back of his neck, looking down for a brief second as if carrying a quiet weight of his own before fixing his steady, grounded gaze back on you.

“y/n, look at me,” he said softly, his voice dropping into that deep, comforting tone. “i know your history. i know exactly how much you've been through, and i'm not going to sit here and tell you that your fears aren’t valid. but you are completely wrong about one thing.”

he leaned a little closer to the camera. “i don't know the guy personally, but i know you. and from everything you’ve ever told me about him, from the way your face lights up when you mention his name, he isn't the type to treat you like a phase. his parents don't get to decide who his 'one' is, y/n. he already chose you, so don't let their words choose his ending for him.”

you looked away from the screen, your bottom lip trembling as his words cut right through your defenses. you wanted so desperately to believe he was right, but the heavy weight in your chest made it so hard to breathe.

“but what if they’re right, jongseong?” you whispered, a fresh tear spilling over as you brought your knees closer to your chest. “it’s so easy to say he chose me now, but choosing someone gets a lot harder when the whole world is pulling you in the opposite direction. i'm just so tired of being the only one who ends up broken when the choice gets too heavy.”

“you told me once, he’s different. you said he was the first person who made you feel safe enough to lower your guard. don't take away his chance to be the one who stays just because everyone else before him left.”

you let out a shaky breath, wiping the dampness from your cheeks with the back of your hand. his words hit a little too close to home, reminding you of the girl who used to be so certain about the boy she loved.

“i did say that, didn't i?” you whispered, a small, incredibly tired smile touching your lips for a split second. you looked back up at the screen, trying to clear the thick emotion from your throat. “i'm sorry for dumping all of this on you out of nowhere. let's not talk about my mess anymore. how are things with you and karina?”

jongseong chuckled softly, the heavy atmosphere completely lifting as he leaned back in his desk chair. “speaking of the devil,” he murmured, just as the sound of a fridge door closing echoed through the speaker, followed by the soft padding of footsteps.

a second later, karina leaned into the frame, damp hair wrapped in a towel and a plate of sliced fruit in her hand. “tell her i say hi! and tell her you haven't washed the dishes from breakfast yet,” she teased, popping a piece of apple into her mouth before pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head and walking back to the living room.

jongseong rolled his eyes fondly, watching her leave before fixing his gaze back on you. “see? we’re surviving, even if we’re constantly stressed about finals and rent. our parents definitely had their doubts about us moving in together so early, but we just decided to figure it out as we go. it’s not perfect, but it’s real. you and jungwon can figure it out too, if you just give him the chance to try.”

“thanks, jongseong,” you murmured, the tight knot of anxiety in your chest finally unravelling into a sudden, desperate wave of clarity.

“anytime, buddy,” he replied with a warm, final nod.

and with that, you both ended the call.

before the fear could creep back in, you immediately grabbed a coat from the chair and shoved your feet into your crocs. you unlocked the deadbolt with trembling fingers and swung the door open, but what you didn’t expect was jungwon standing right there, catching his breath with his hair sweaty, probably from running all the way to you.

“h-hi.”

“hi.”

a breathless, fragile silence settled over the hallway. jungwon looked down, his gaze lingering on your feet tucked into your crocs, and then you looked at his messy, sweat-dampened hair. despite the heavy heartbreak that had been hovering over you both for weeks, a tiny, incredibly watery laugh slipped past your lips.

jungwon’s lips twitched into a faint, exhausted smile, though his eyes stayed completely soft and intense.

“where were you going in such a hurry?” he asked softly, his voice still a little breathless.

“i was… i was going to you,” you confessed, your voice cracking as the tears finally spilled over, blurring your vision.

jungwon’s eyes softened completely, his hand moving from your wrist to gently cup your cheek, his thumb catching the tear before it could fall. “to me? why?”

“because i’m so tired of being the girl who only exists to teach good men how to love someone else,” you choked out, your hands anchoring onto the fabric of his jacket because your knees felt weak. “i don’t want you to be my temporary chapter, jungwon. i don’t want this to be another heartbreaking lesson. i know you’re the one. i know it. and it terrifies me, but i was running to tell you that i don’t want to let you go.”

jungwon stared at you, completely frozen as his usual composure totally shattered. a glassy sheen quickly took over his sharp eyes, his bottom lip trembling just a fraction as the heavy unshed tears made him look incredibly vulnerable in the dim hallway light. he looked so profoundly undone by your confession that he couldn't even find his voice to speak.

seeing him look at you like that suddenly made a wave of intense self-consciousness rush over you.

you let out a wet, breathless laugh, instantly dropping your gaze to his chest as your cheeks flushed deep red. “oh god,” you muttered, your voice cracking as you weakly hid your face against his jacket. “i can’t believe i sound so silly saying that. it sounded so cringe, i'm sorry—”

jungwon wasted no time in closing the gap between the two of you and crashed his lips onto yours. compared to your first kiss, this one was full of pure yearning and a desperate, breathless relief that made your knees give out completely.

he kissed you until the lingering taste of your tears melted away, his hands moving up to cup your face so tightly, as if he were physically anchoring you to him. when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead remained rested against yours, both of your breaths coming out in hot, uneven puffs in the quiet hallway.

“it’s not silly,” jungwon whispered fiercely, his voice raspy and thick with the tears he was trying not to spill. he blinked, a stray drop finally escaping and trailing down his flushed cheek as he looked deep into your eyes. “i ran all the way here because i felt like i was suffocating without you. i ran to tell you that i don't want to lose you. i'm not letting you go.”

you could only nod as a fresh wave of tears blurred your vision. your fingers gripping his shoulders so hard your knuckles turned white.

jungwon smiled weakly, his thumbs gently wiping away the new tears on your cheeks before leaning down to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, right at your hairline. he kept his arms securely locked around you, anchoring you against his warm chest until your breathing finally synced up with his.

“i mean it, y/n,” he murmured into your hair, his voice steadier now but still filled with that fierce determination. “no more lessons. we're figuring this out together.”

***

dear, y/n,

in this world, there are two types of people: the one and the lesson. you were the latter. but right now, you’re the first.

you spent so much time convincing yourself that you were only built to be a temporary chapter, a stepping stone for someone else's perfect blueprint. but you don't have to stay broken just to teach a good man how to love. you can be the one who gets to stay, too. and you finally found your 'the one'—the boy who ran all the way to your door in the middle of the night just to prove he was never going to let you go.

three months later.

“jungwon, if you don't turn that stove down right now, we are going to set the fire alarm off for the third time this month,” you laughed, leaning against the counter of your apartment as you watched him frantically wave a kitchen towel in front of a smoking pan.

“i have it completely under control!” he insisted, though his cheeks were flushed a soft pink and his sharp eyes were wide with adorable panic. he quickly slid the pan off the burner, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief before turning around to face you. his hair was slightly messy, a soft contrast to the structured, neat look he usually wore around his family, and he was wearing an super oversized hoodie that you were pretty sure actually belonged to you.

you walked over, entirely unable to hide the fond smile on your face as you reached up to fix a stray strand of hair falling over his forehead. “you’re supposed to be the responsible college student, remember? what happened to the planner jungwon?”

“the plan got complicated,” jungwon murmured, his tone instantly softening the second your fingers brushed against his skin. without missing a beat, his hands found your waist, pulling you flush against him with that effortless, natural familiarity that had become your favorite part of every single day. “besides, i was distracted looking at you.”

“so cringe,” you teased, echoing the exact words from the night he ran to you, but your heart still did that familiar, happy flip against your ribs.

jungwon chuckled, a low, warm sound that vibrated against your chest as he leaned down, resting his forehead against yours. “i told you three months ago,” he whispered against your lips, his thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles through the fabric of your shirt. “it’s not cringe if it’s real. now kiss me before the smoke alarm actually goes off.”

you didn't miss a beat. you leaned up, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss that carried all the quiet certainty of the past three months. the heavy anxiety, the cruel comments from his parents, and the ghosts of your past heartbreaks were completely gone. there were no more lessons left to learn. there was only jungwon, holding you tight in a smoky kitchen, proving every single day that he was here to stay.

[h7evan]

DIE FOR YOU

Trope: Protective Love

Pairing: spy!jungwon x spy!female reader

Synopsis: Yang Jungwon has always been protective - of his best friends, of his responsibilities and especially of you. You’ve been close friends for years, but lately his protectiveness feels - different. Softer. Warmer. More intense. When an escaped criminal incident forces the agency to assign you a temporary bodyguard - even though you’re certain you could handle yourself, Jungwon steps in before anyone else can. Suddenly you’re spending every waking moment together - late-night talks, shared meals, quiet confessions. As danger closes in, Jungwon’s feelings become impossible to hide. He’d do anything to keep you safe, even if it means risking everything he’s worked for. And when you realize you feel the same, the line between friendship and something deeper disappears completely.

Warnings: inappropriate language (cursing), explicit mature content - smut (MDNI), fingering (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, slight degradation, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex (protection is vital guys), slight somnophilia, brief mentions of voyeurism, slightly angsty, violence included and mentions of blood and death

Mishi’s Thoughts: Second to last fic for the series is here. Time genuinely is just flying. It’s been a month since I was actively posting and I’m almost at 100 followers. Therefore, I seriously can’t thank you all enough for the continuous support! Thank you thank you thank you! Really and truly! Please don’t hesitate to like, comment and reblog as your feedback and interactions are much appreciated! Also, my permanent taglist is still open so anyone can comment down below and see if they want to join. Requests are open to anyone that would wish for me to write about any good ideas for a fic and I’d love to hear from you all really! Hope you enjoy this one thank you so much for reading!

You carefully weaved through the crowd of agents assembled in the Crisis Command Hall, frowning as you heard hushed whispers and concerned remarks surrounding you as you passed.

Something definitely felt wrong.

You sensed something was off the moment the alarm sounded throughout AISA, calling for an emergency meeting a few minutes back.

And such meetings only occurred when a matter took a turn for the worse.

“There you are,” you heard Jungwon’s gentle voice let out a sigh of relief as he immediately pulled you closer to him and the rest of his friends when you reached the front of the crowd.

They were all gazing at you with concern, making you feel a bit uncomfortable until Jay suddenly spoke up, “You alright, Y/N?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, nodding, “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

Jungwon sighed, “You don’t know, do you?”

You frowned, shaking your head, “Know what? Is this about the emergency meeting?”

Looking around, you finally caught the eyes of other people subtly watching you or shooting careful glances.

They immediately averted their attention somewhere else when you caught them all looking at you and you even saw Director Lee near the base of the stage, casting a worried glance at your direction before resuming his hushed conversation with his assistant.

Jungwon stared at you silently for a solid moment, gauging your reaction and understanding your confusion regarding the situation.

“Jang Seohyun is out,” he leaned down to whisper against your ear, so you can hear him over the murmurs and voices of the others surrounding you, “he escaped about an hour ago. It’s madness with the government right now. Citizens are all panicked.”

You froze, your heart sinking, the realization of what he just said to you crashing heavily down on your body.

Your mind began to spiral - not really out of fear, but with confusion as to how he could’ve possibly escaped like that.

Jang Seohyun was once the untouchable kingpin of a covert Korean tech-crime empire, controlling black-market data routes, encrypted weapons trafficking and a network of loyal operatives spread across East Asia.

His downfall came when you went undercover on a solo mission and infiltrated his inner circle, blending in with his trusted team for a whole year while slowly dismantling his operation from the inside.

You were thorough with your work and gathered more than enough evidence against the middle-aged man, skillfully testifying against him in court which resulted in him being sent to a maximum-high security prison.

But it seems now - and blatantly obvious so, that Jang Seohyun doesn’t stay caged for long.

If your memory was right, you could’ve sworn you testified barely about 7 months ago.

Jungwon was watching you intently, his hand still loosely gripping your wrist from when he pulled you over to stay by his side.

You finally managed out, your question startling him slightly, “How the hell did he escape?”

Jungwon shook his head, shooting a knowing glance at his friends who gazed at you with amusement and silent awe, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips, “I should’ve known you wouldn’t be that scared.”

“Lee’s gathering the details now to brief us. That’s why they called the meeting. It’s all over the news right now and they’ve even called in the military to secure the borders in case he tries to escape the country.”

You let out a heavy exhale, massaging your temples. You felt responsible somehow, even though this was never your fault in the first place and Jungwon, being your childhood best friend for years, immediately grabbed your shoulders and faced you to look up at him.

“Don’t even think about it. This is not your fault at all, Bae Y/N,” he added quickly before you could even open your mouth, “And no. You’re not going to help them find him either.”

You blinked, ready to protest when Director Lee suddenly made his way up the stairs connecting to the stage, striding towards the microphone set up for him already.

The hall immediately fell silent, everyone’s attention fixated on Lee as he cleared his throat, his voice grave as he addressed the crowd.

“Greetings everyone. I trust you all know why we’re collected here today.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd of agents.

“At precisely 13:17 pm, Jang Seohyun reportedly escaped from the high-security prison he was lodged at, with no lead as to his current or future whereabouts.”

The murmuring and hushed whispers started again, this time growing louder with more concern and agitation until Lee raised his hand for silence again.

“With the help of rival gangs that he manipulated, Jang staged a riot as a cover, along with the help of a violent internal prison power shift and escaped through a maintenance tunnel he somehow knew existed.”

You could feel Jungwon’s grip on your wrist grow tighter as Lee continued his briefing.

“This was one of our most highly anticipated missions in the past. And I think we’re all familiar with the fact that Bae Y/N went undercover alone and managed to thwart his plans, resulting in his imprisonment.”

He paused, his gaze flickering over to where you were standing and you could hear gentle applause and soft cheers reaching your ears faintly.

“Unfortunately, it has been brought to our attention that Y/N’s life could potentially be at risk. Seohyun’s objective is to enact revenge on her. Especially as she played a major role on behalf of AISA, to terminate this criminal’s wrongdoings in the past.”

You froze, feeling all eyes on you now, including Jungwon’s and you didn’t like all this attention on you.

“As a result, although we are completely aware of Y/N’s outstanding abilities to handle herself and her safety, we will be assigning adequate security to protect her, so I can assure you all that the worries and concerns of her friends and colleagues relayed to us will be acknowledged.”

Lee stopped for a moment, taking a split second to glance around at all the troubled faces in the crowd before proceeding, “A personal protection detail is currently being put together for her safety. These include the special protection forces we have for emergency situations such as this one. We will also be increasing the security measures within AISA, so please cooperate.”

“Also, do not take this lightly because this is something extremely serious we’re dealing with. I must encourage each and every one of you to exercise extreme caution when going about your everyday life. Jang can use anyone within the agency to target Y/N and none of you must risk your lives or hers for his sake. Remember your training. It has become crystal clear that Jang Seohyun’s main objective is to hunt down Y/N as she betrayed him with her fake identity and to reclaim the fear and dominance he once commanded an empire with. Thank you.”

Director Lee said firmly, everyone paying rapt attention to what he had left to say.

“Good luck and stay safe agents. This man must not be underestimated and each and every one of you were trained to handle situations like this. So continue to be vigilant.”

Director Lee’s office was silent except for the hum of the overhead lights.

Jungwon burst into the office, his heavy footsteps reverberating through the otherwise quiet space. His jaw tight and determination radiating off of him.

Lee rose to his feet, not bothering to sit when Jungwon stood opposite his desk.

“Yang Jungwon. You requested an emergency audience. Make it quick.”

Jungwon’s fists clenched at his sides, “It’s about her. About Y/N.”

Lee exhaled sharply, already knowing where this was going, “She already has a protection detail assigned. I mentioned this during the emergency meeting.”

“That detail isn’t enough,” Jungwon said, voice low but steady, “You know it isn’t. Jang isn’t someone to mess with.”

Lee’s eyes narrowed, “Are you questioning my judgement, Yang?”

“I’m questioning the fact that you’re sending practical strangers to guard someone who doesn’t even trust people like that,” Jungwon stepped closer.

“She trusts me.”

Lee scoffed, though Jungwon could’ve sworn he saw the corners of his lips tilt up slightly, “Personal attachment clouds judgement you know.”

“No,” Jungwon calmly shot back, “Personal attachment sharpens it.”

The director’s eyebrows lifted, “Explain then.”

Jungwon swallowed hard, but his voice didn’t waver.

“Y/N isn’t just another civilian asset. She’s my childhood best friend. I know her routines, her fears and her tells. I know how she reacts under pressure. I know how she fights back even when she’s scared. And I know exactly how the person targeting her thinks. We all know how he thinks.”

Lee crossed his arms, “You’re too close for this.”

Jungwon shook his head, “I’m the only one close enough to keep her alive.”

The director didn’t respond, so Jungwon continued, voice suddenly tightening with emotion he couldn’t hide.

“When we were kids, she used to wait outside my house every morning because she said she felt safer walking with me to school. When her father got sick, I was the one who stayed with her and her family at the hospital. When she was recruited as an asset for Jang Seohyun’s mission? She told me she wasn’t afraid because she knew I’d be somewhere in the world watching her back regardless.”

He took a breath when he was finished his rant, “I refuse to let her down now.”

Lee’s expression didn’t change, but the room felt heavier.

“You’re basically asking me to assign you as her personal bodyguard,” he said gravely.

“I’m telling you I’m the best candidate,” Jungwon corrected, “I know about the man hunting her. I’m sure it wouldn’t take long to understand his patterns and his rage properly. And I’m certain he’ll go after her in ways your assigned detail won’t anticipate. Mark my words.”

Lee’s voice dropped, eyes intently gazing at Jungwon, “And what happens if your emotions compromise the mission?”

Jungwon met his gaze without flinching, “Then you can strip my badge the moment she’s safe. But until then, I’m not stepping aside.”

The director studied him for a long moment, “You’re willing to risk your career for her?”

Jungwon’s answer was immediate, “I’m willing to risk everything for her.”

Silence.

Then Director Lee sighed, rubbing his temple.

“You’re rather stubborn,” he muttered.

Jungwon didn’t deny it.

Finally, Lee looked up properly at him.

“Fine. You’ll be assigned as her temporary personal bodyguard. But if you slip-”

“I won’t.”

“Well then, if you hesitate-”

“I won’t.”

“And if your feelings interfere-”

Jungwon’s voice softened, “My feelings are why she’ll survive.”

Lee paused, then nodded once, “Then go. She’s in the briefing room.”

Jungwon didn’t waste a second. He turned, heading for the door, determination burning in his dark, cat eyes.

Lee called out after him, amusement lacing his tone, “Protecting her won’t be easy.”

Jungwon didn’t slow down.

“It doesn’t have to be easy. It just has to be me.”

Jungwon found you before you could even fully step out of the briefing room to leave.

You had a duffel-bag sitting half-zipped on the table, with a few personal things from your office tucked inside that you wanted to keep with you for the time being - your badge, favorite portable and handy dagger, plus a photograph of you and Jungwon when you both were kids at a picnic that both sets of your parents put together.

He steps in, closing the door behind him.

You look up as he enters, the weight of the situation now settling in between you both.

“So it’s official,” you say softly, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag.

“Temporary leave. Protection detail. And- you?” You added quickly, catching his questioning gaze as to how you figured it out so fast, “Lee just called me before you came in.”

He exhales, slow and controlled, but his eyes give him away - relief, determination and something heavier still brewing inside them from since his conversation in Director Lee’s office.

“Yep. Me,” he walked closer, stopping just a few feet in front of you.

“I think he’ll sign me off just now. I’m your assigned protection until we neutralize the threat. And believe me, Jang won’t get away with this.”

You nod, trying to process everything at once, “I didn’t think they’d pull me off active duty. You know damn well I could handle myself.”

“They had to, Y/N,” he responded, his voice firm, but not unkind.

“You’re his target. Don’t you remember how he didn’t even bother to hide his malice for you the first time he saw you at trial after the situation? I’m not letting anything happen to you because of your overconfidence in yourself.”

You grumbled under your breath, looking at your half-packed things, knowing you still needed to include some stuff from your apartment before hiding out, “This feels surreal. Weird even. One minute I’m preparing for my next mission, the next I’m being escorted out like I’m fragile.”

Jungwon stepped closer, lowering his voice as he gently grasped underneath your chin with his fingers, tilting your head up, “You’re not fragile. You’re the strongest person I know. But strength doesn’t stop bullets- or murder even, so this guy isn’t playing games.”

You meet his eyes solemnly, “You really think he’s coming after me of all people then?”

His jaw tightens, uncertain of if he should reveal this information to you before finally giving in, “He already tried. The agency intercepted chatter last night. He knows your real name, plus remembers your face and your role in putting him away. He’s clearly had his revenge planned for a long time while holing up in that prison.”

Silence stretched within the room for a long moment.

Then Jungwon added, quieter, “I should’ve done that mission instead of you. I warned Lee it would be risky. And I pushed to replace you. Hard.”

You paused, torn between making a joke and being serious, before deciding on the latter, “Why?”

He hesitated - just a second - before answering.

“Because I know you. I know how you move and how you think during missions. And because if something happened to you while someone else was watching your back-?”

Jungwon shook his head, “I wouldn’t survive that. You know this.”

You look at him, the truth settling in your chest, “So what now?”

He straightened up, slipping back into his professional mode even though his eyes stayed soft for you, “Now? We leave. Low-profile transport. Safe house outside the city. But we’ll have to make two quick stops to get what we need from our apartments.”

You zip up your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“And you’ll be with me the whole time?” You asked, lifting your eyebrows.

“Every second,” he responded calmly and you caught the light tease in his tone, “Whether you like it or not.”

You tried to flash a small smile, though it came out wider and tinged with relief.

“Sounds great wouldn’t you say?”

His expression shifted and your observant eyes immediately caught the faint imprints of his adorable dimples on his cheeks.

“Brilliant,” he murmured, “Because I’m not losing you.”

He reached for your bag, taking it from your shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

“Ready?”

You nodded, “Mhm.”

And together, you walked out of the briefing room - your old life behind you and your new reality waiting outside the door.

The safe house was tucked along the edge of the city, just on the borders of the countryside - quiet, still and wrapped in layers of security, undetectable to anyone else, that made it feel like a world apart.

For the first time in weeks since staying here with Jungwon, you felt like you could breathe without checking over your shoulder.

And for the first time in years, Jungwon could watch over you without pretending it was just duty.

You both settled into a rhythm that felt strangely natural as the time went by.

Weeks turned into months while you two remained constantly updated by AISA and your friends about what was happening in the city.

Unfortunately for you and you were itching to return to work, Jang Seohyun was nowhere close to being found, his whereabouts unknown so far despite the amount of forces combined to look for him.

Somehow, the nights became the hardest. You weren’t sure if it was because of how uncomfortable you felt with not being able to proceed with your everyday life as per normal. Or if it was because you were annoyed of how paranoid and overprotective Jungwon was becoming by the evening.

One night, with silence pressed against the windows and the hum of the security system filling the rooms like a heartbeat, you couldn’t sleep.

After tossing and turning for hours, unsuccessfully falling asleep, you slipped out of your bedroom, rubbing your tired eyes.

You weren’t surprised to find Jungwon awake, having encountered him on random evenings before with a blanket thrown over his shoulders as he sat on the couch, often zoning out.

Tonight was no different and you teased softly, “Again? You’re going to wear out that couch.”

Jungwon glanced up, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Couldn’t sleep.”

You moved to sit beside him, close enough that your knees brushed, “You hardly could. Even when we were teenagers.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh, “Yeah. Back then, you’d stay up with me. Talk about anything until I forgot whatever was bothering me.”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him, “You know, come to think about it. You can still do that.”

Jungwon looked at you - really looked at you - and something warm flickered in his eyes as he slowly nodded, accepting your offer.

“I realized,” he murmured.

“That’s why it’s easier when you’re awake too.”

The conversation drifted from mission updates to childhood memories, then to things neither of you had ever said aloud.

With your voices softened and your shoulders leaned closer, the space between you and Jungwon felt charged with something unspoken.

Being confined together brought old memories to the surface - ones neither of you ever talked about.

“Do you remember the night before I left for training? I never thought you’d want to be a spy too so I applied to AISA early for their summer training program instead, when one of their agents wanted to recommend me.”

You nodded, “You disappeared. I thought you were avoiding me because of that awful argument we had prior.”

“I wasn’t,” Jungwon’s voice was low, “I almost came to your house. I wanted to tell you I was scared. But I didn’t want you to see me like that. And we weren’t allowed to contact anyone once we had access to the agency, so I just let the time pass instead.”

You stared over at him, stunned, “I wish you had. I would’ve stayed up with you before you left that night. Like always.”

He swallowed hard, something like regret reflecting in those otherwise innocent, boba eyes of his, “I know. I realized that way after I enlisted. That’s why it hurt more.”

You shifted closer, your shoulder brushing his.

“Remember when you fell out of that willow tree and broke your arm?”

He laughed softly, “How could I forget? You cried more than I did.”

You looked down at your hands, “I cried because- I thought I’d lose my best friend forever. I didn’t know how to say that back then.”

Jungwon went still, his expression unreadable, “You never told me that.”

“I didn’t know how to.”

He slowly reached out, fingers twitching as he hesitated at first, before gently hooking a finger under your chin so you’d look at him, “You can tell me anything now, you know.”

Your voice trembled slightly, though you remained composed, “I know.”

Confessions like these settled between you two like something fragile and precious - something that had always existed but never had room to breathe until now.

The kitchen became your unofficial meeting place.

Morning sunlight spilled across the counters as you two moved around each other with a familiarity that surprised both of you.

One afternoon, you were chopping vegetables for dinner while Jungwon stirred a pot on the stove.

You two kept bumping into each other accidentally, laughing under your breaths.

“You’re in my way, Won,” you said teasingly, nudging him with your hip.

“You’re in my way, Y/N,” he countered, nudging you back and nearly sending you flying, much to his amusement.

You flicked water at him from the running tap in the sink, making Jungwon gasp dramatically, “Assaulting a fellow agent? That’s bold.”

“Oh please,” you scoffed, “you’ve survived worse.”

Jungwon stepped behind you then, reaching up over your shoulder to grab a spice jar.

His chest brushed your back - light, accidental, but enough to make you go rigid and inhale sharply under your breath, though he picked up on the tension.

He himself froze, his heartbeat picking up speed and he prayed you wouldn’t hear, “Sorry.”

You didn’t turn around, fingers gripping the edge of the sink tightly as you fought to remain composed, nails digging against the metal.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back in response, but you didn’t move away.

You expected him to back away, yet he didn’t and you could hear your own pulse roaring in your ears by now.

Jungwon set the spice jar aside and you watched his hands plant themselves on either side of the kitchen sink, trapping you.

You pretended not to care or even notice, busying yourself with washing the sprig of cilantro in your hands.

He watched you silently, analyzing your stiff back and shoulders against him and the way you refused to turn your head and make eye contact with him since he stepped closer to you.

“You’re drenching it,” he observed, watching the leaves get soggy and you let out a quiet scoff under your breath.

“Then move so I can chop it up,” you shot back, trying to get him to back away.

Jungwon merely took the cilantro from your hands, setting it aside on the cutting board nearby before speaking up before you could say anything, “Why should I? I forgot how easy it is to be around you.”

He tilted his head forward a bit so he can see you better and you nudged him gently with your elbow pressing against the surprisingly firm planes of his stomach, “You never forgot. Both of us just got busy with our own things, I guess.”

He shook his head, though amusement twinkled in his eyes as he purposely pressed a bit closer up against you, his voice dropping to a slightly seductive whisper against your ear, “No. I think I just forgot what it felt like to have a home.”

Your breath caught, but you skillfully masked it, feeling a bit bold now you piped up, “Is that what this feels like?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

You suddenly stiffened, this time quite obvious as Jungwon’s toned arms carefully shifted to snake around your waist.

He pulled you back to him gently, with you letting out a soft gasp of his name in response, bewildered, “Jungwon!”

He just hummed in response, heart pounding so fast in your chest that you could’ve sworn it might fall out as you felt his breath hit the nape of your neck.

Jungwon inhaled deeply, murmuring as his arms tightened around you, “You smell really nice.”

You blinked, processing his words, your own voice coming out uncertain, “Oh I- thank you?”

He chuckled softly, moving to nuzzle against the crook of your neck and you subconsciously squealed at the ticklish sensation, your body trembling when you felt his breaths of laughter against your skin.

Before you knew it, you let your body sink against Jungwon’s chest and he let out a soft hum of approval under his breath, just holding you close for a bit.

It was only when you glanced over at the stove, noticing the boiling hot water almost overflowing from the rim did you shriek, startling Jungwon as he immediately let go of you and rushed over to handle the situation.

“Oh my god you ass, Yang Jungwon!” You scolded, in a not-so-stern voice at him to which he flashed you an amused and sheepish smile.

Though internally, you both were disappointed that your comfy moment couldn’t last a bit longer.

Neither of you brought up anything regarding what happened that night while preparing for dinner, but the signs were there.

From lingering touches, soft spoken words and even risky feats such as cozy cuddling during movie nights.

Something had shifted in the air between you and Jungwon and you were convinced that it was always there, even when you both were children, but only now beginning to unravel itself to you both.

You didn’t look up from the book in your lap, legs tucked comfortably beneath you by where you sat on the living room couch, curled under a blanket.

“You’re doing that thing again,” your voice was quiet, almost knowing.

“What thing?” He asked, not turning around from where he stood near a window, arms crossed and watching the impending storm brewing in the otherwise dark night sky.

“Brooding,” you glanced up momentarily, eyes flickering from his tall, imposing figure then to the fireplace that glowed low underneath the tv.

You flipped a page in your book, “You brood like it’s your full-time job now, you know. That bored?”

Jungwon finally turned around to look at you, eyes exasperated but fond as you heard the soft patter of rain begin to fall against the windows, “I’m not brooding. I’m just- thinking.”

“Same thing,” you teased lightly, a cheeky smile playing on your lips.

He walked over, dropping on to the couch beside you, “I’m thinking about him.”

You closed your book, giving him your full attention, “Jang Seohyun?”

“Yeah,” his jaw tightened, “He hasn’t acted yet. And I’m curious as to why. He’s smart. Somehow surprisingly patient. But we know he’s angry.”

You shrugged lightly, “Let him be angry all he wants. I’m not exactly helpless and as of right now, he can’t find me.”

“I know you’re not,” he spoke up quickly, “but that’s not the point.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Then what is?”

Jungwon hesitated, eyes flickering towards the window again, watching the rain begin to pour outside, “He’s unpredictable. And he’s been off the grid for a long time. No sightings. No chatter. Nothing.”

You leaned back, casually stretching your legs out with a soft sigh, “Maybe he’s hiding. Or maybe he’s scared of me and you.”

Jungwon shot you an unamused look, “Y/N.”

“What?” You drawled innocently, “We’re terrifying aren’t we?”

“You’re impossible,” he muttered under his breath, but you could’ve sworn you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

You nudged his knee with yours, “Tell me what you’re actually worried about. I know you all too well, Won.”

He sighed heavily, “If he finds this place-”

“He won’t,” you cut him off firmly, “You said it yourself.”

“I know, I know,” he continued, voice low, “but if he does, you know he doesn’t give a shit about the downfall of the agency. He’s only determined to get his hands on you.”

You didn’t flinch, already coming to terms and successfully processing your life’s position right now, “Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting him down myself then to turn him in.”

Jungwon stared at you, frustrated and fond all at once, “You joke like this only because you think it’ll make me relax.”

You grinned, “Is it working?”

“No.”

You shifted closer, blanket brushing his arm now and Jungwon subconsciously wrapped his arm around you, pulling your body closer against his.

“You worry too much,” you chided softly.

“And you don’t worry enough,” he shot back, “you’re way too relaxed here it seems.”

“That’s why we work together,” you said simply.

Jungwon looked down at where you had your head resting against his broad shoulder - really looked - and the room felt warmer, smaller and quieter.

You let your eyes shut for a moment with content when you felt his chin resting on top of your head, his lips brushing your hair.

After a few minutes of peaceful quiet, both of you zoning out individually, with you playing with Jungwon’s fingers and him gazing intently at the glowing fireplace, you finally broke the silence.

“You know,” you began softly, “I’m not afraid of him. I just hate that he’s trying to ruin my life like this.”

“I know,” he replied solemnly, “but I am.”

You blinked, shifting your gaze to look up at him as you lifted your head, furrowing your eyebrows, “You’re afraid of him?”

“No, silly,” he gently pinched the tip of your nose, “I’m afraid of what might happen if he got to you before I did.”

Your teasing expression softened, a tender smile playing on your lips at his action, “You’ve always been like this.”

“Like what?”

“Protective,” you said, voice observant, “Even when I didn’t need it.”

Jungwon shook his head.

“You don’t get it. No one does. I’m not protective because you’re weak, Y/N. I’m protective because you matter.”

You went still for a moment and Jungwon felt your rigid body against his.

Clearing your throat lightly, blinking away the surprise, you continued, “So what’s your plan then, Mr. Overthinker?”

Jungwon didn’t hesitate, “I’m staying with you. Tonight and from now on, by your side.”

You blinked, “In the living room?”

“In your room,” he responded, nonchalantly.

You raised your eyebrows, a teasing smile creeping up on your lips, “Bold.”

He chuckled deeply, his voice dropping a fraction, “Yeah? You wanna see bold?”

You let out a soft yelp, eyes going wide as Jungwon suddenly and rather effortlessly, pulled you on to his lap, your legs dangling over one side of his.

You gripped his broad shoulders tightly, fingers fisting his hoodie as you fought the urge to smack him, though internally you didn’t mind the position at all.

“Are you insane?!” You exclaimed, breath hitching the moment his face leaned closer, nose brushing yours as his hot breath hit your face steadily with soft puffs.

“Maybe,” he responded lightly.

You studied him for a long moment, slowly becoming aware of the fact that your rapid heartbeats were somehow in sync before you tried to mask your feelings once more, “You think I need a babysitter?”

“Nope,” he replied simply, eyes dropping to your lips as he kept talking, “I just think I need to be close enough to stop anything before it starts.”

You crossed your arms, “You’re doing anything but stopping. Sleeping with me is a stretch if you ask me.”

He just shrugged lightly in response and you relented, “Fine.”

“But only because you look like you’ll explode if I say no.”

Jungwon smiled, pleased at your response and didn’t hesitate to carefully capture your lips with his soft ones, kissing you tenderly.

You closed your eyes, bunching up his hoodie with your hands from how tightly you were holding on to him as you kissed him back, slowly and surely.

Jungwon kissed you like you were something delicate that he somehow couldn’t get enough of, one of his warm hands cupping your face while the other remained around your waist to keep you steady on his lap.

You loved the taste of his lips and the way his mouth moved against yours, not wanting this moment to end even as he teasingly licked at the seam of your lips with his tongue, pulling away before you could even so much as part them.

“Thank you,” he actually responded to your previous words this time, forehead resting against yours as you both caught your breath.

You cleared your throat, cheeks burning as you tried to joke, “Don’t thank me yet. I kick in my sleep.”

He groaned, pressing a soft kiss to your nose as he played along, “Of course you do. Thought you grew out of that habit when you were younger.”

You grinned, settling comfortably against his chest, body sinking into his, “Relax. If Jang comes here, we’ll handle it. Together.”

Jungwon gazed down at you, fingers reaching up to stroke your hair tenderly, eyes warm.

“Yeah. Together.”

“Morning,” you heard Jungwon’s voice, hoarse and raspy from grogginess, whisper against your ear as your sleepy eyes fluttered open.

You let out a quiet groan, shifting closer, seeking his warmth surrounding you and feeling his arms tighten even further around your body in response.

Finally blinking your bleary eyes open, you adjusted to the faint sunlight streaming in from your bedroom’s curtains as you looked at him, lifting your head.

Your vision swam for a moment until Jungwon’s handsome face came clearly into view, a small, fond smile on his lips.

“Good morning,” you managed out sleepily and Jungwon let out a deep chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he held you firmly.

“Slept well? Wait don’t answer that. I believe you did because look at the time,” he rasped out, eyes flickering over to the digital alarm clock behind you on the bedside table.

You rolled your eyes, feeling awfully content with the position you were in right now.

Tangled up against Jungwon’s larger body as he kept you nestled comfortably against his chest.

Groaning, you murmured out, “What time is it?”

“11:27,” he said simply, making you snap your head back to the clock.

“Wait what?”

Jungwon laughed softly, thumb absentmindedly stroking your hip where your leg was tossed over his.

“Looks like I need to sleep with you more often,” he teased lightly.

You blushed, burying your face against the crook of his neck, “Shut up. You make it sound so weird.”

“It’s only weird if you think it’s weird,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head as his free hand stroked the curve of your back.

“How long have you been up?” You asked curiously.

“A while,” he responded vaguely.

You furrowed your eyebrows, lifting your head to look up at him, unconvinced, “A while?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, meeting your eyes tenderly, “why?”

“You seem rather energetic for someone that’s been awake for ‘a while’ you know,” you replied, eyes narrowed.

Jungwon bubbled out a soft laugh as he relented, “Okay maybe a few hours? I was up since around 9 or 10 something I believe?”

You blinked, “What? And you didn’t think to get out my bed?”

He laughed, shaking his head, responding simply, “Nope.”

“Why?” You challenged.

A small smirk creeped up on his lips, “You really want the answer to that?”

You hummed, nodding.

He shifted, the sheets tangling as he moved to hover over you, hands planted on either side of your body.

Jungwon leaned closer, his lips brushing yours as he murmured, “I like watching you sleep, honey.”

You snapped your eyes open, stunned at his confession, “What?! You’re telling me you sat and watched me sleep for like two hours?”

He hummed, his smirk growing as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

You realized how much he loved kissing you, even if it was the smallest of pecks, especially since you both kissed last night.

“Yang Jungwon!” You exclaimed, your face turning crimson red at the thought of him watching you sleep like that.

“What?” He mused, eyes brimming with innocence.

You blinked rapidly, trying to process his confession, “Isn’t that weird?”

He tilted his head, eyeing you, “How so?”

You spluttered, “Well- because I mean-?!”

Jungwon simply arched an eyebrow down at you and you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as he watched you get flushed with embarrassment.

He leaned down, lips grazing your forehead as he spoke, the sound of his deep voice reverberating down your spine when he teased you, “You seem to enjoy that fact, don’t you? That I like watching you sleep?”

You couldn’t respond, knowing he was right, your voice catching in your throat as Jungwon let out a hoarse laugh, patting your cheek as he sat up and climbed off of you.

“Come on. Let’s shower and I’ll make brunch for us as it’s already a bit too late for breakfast.”

You grumbled under your breath, rubbing the remaining sleep out of your eyes.

And you failed to notice the tent that formed in Jungwon’s sweatpants, which has been agonizing his soul since his arousal started an hour back.

You felt like teasing Jungwon back, wanting him to experience just as how hot and bothered he made you feel earlier that morning.

You dressed in a thin strapped white tank top, purposely wearing no bra, along with the tiniest pair of black boy shorts you owned, allowing it to hug the soft curve of your ass.

Taking a good look at yourself in the mirror, you let out a satisfied hum to yourself as you threw your hair into a messy bun.

It was summer either way.

When you slipped out your bedroom, the aroma of buttery pancakes wafted through the air to your nose.

You stopped just short of the entrance to the kitchen, catching sight of Jungwon bustling around smoothly as he prepared brunch for you both.

When he caught sight of you - his gaze just so happening to drift over to where you were standing, you immediately noticed how stiff he got.

You fought the amused smirk threatening to creep up on your face at how comical he appeared to be - gaze subconsciously trailing along your body, but unfocused at the same time as he processed what he was seeing, the way his lips parted and sealed themselves constantly like a fish out of water, along with the spatula forgotten in his tightly clenched fist.

Instinctively, you let your lower lip get caught between your teeth, mainly to hold your laughter in, but the effect was instantaneous on Jungwon as you watched his gaze darken.

Finally finding his voice, he managed out - voice coming out as more of a croak if anything, “You-”

You raised your eyebrows, mocking him, “I?”

He blinked rapidly for a minute, trying to catch himself, “You’re- um- done showering I see?”

It cracked you up to see Jungwon like this, utterly dumbfounded. And you wanted nothing more than to buckle over with relentless laughter in his face, but you held yourself together skillfully, remaining composed and innocent.

“Yeah,” your voice trailed off, tilting your head innocently, “So what?”

“Y/N-” Jungwon tried to speak, but was only able to say your name for a moment, gaze instinctively dropping down to where your nipples were peeking through the thin fabric you were wearing over your chest.

He barely managed to restrain the desire threatening to seep into his voice, “You’re not wearing a bra.”

“Mhm and? It’s hot, Wonie,” you teased, “Summer remember?”

You pointed out the kitchen window, where the sunlight was shining down on the backyard garden outside, but Jungwon didn’t even bother to avert his gaze from your body.

You watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly, eventually clearing his throat and snapping his eyes back up to your face with much effort, catching your amused expression before you could shift back into neutrality.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he managed, eyes growing wide with realization as he pointed his spatula at you.

“You’re enjoying this,” he continued, horrified now.

You finally let the giggles you’ve been holding back spill past your lips, holding on to the wall to support yourself from tumbling over from the force of your laughter.

Jungwon stared at you - appalled, using the opportunity to take in the clothes barely covering your body.

You didn’t even notice when he turned off the stove and set his spatula down, pulling off his apron that clung to his enticingly broad shoulders as he approached you.

Your laughter immediately got cut short when he quickly and effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, holding you up as your back collided with the wall.

You felt your breath knock out of your lungs as you stared at him, stunned.

“Wha- what was that for?!” You yelled at him, but he only narrowed his eyes up at you, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Legs around my waist,” he commanded, his voice low.

“W-what?” You blinked, stunned at his audacity and at the command.

“Do as I say, Y/N.”

He wasn’t playing around now, his teeth gritted and you couldn’t even see an inkling of playfulness in his behavior at the moment.

However, the thought that you overstepped your boundaries and pushed him to his limit somehow made an intense sense of satisfaction swirl up inside your stomach.

You decided to play along, already turned on as it is and wrapped your legs around his waist, hands going to his broad shoulders as your fingers slowly and teasingly massaged the muscles there over his tshirt.

“Good girl,” he leaned up, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You thought you could tease me? Test me like that?”

You didn’t know how to respond, only growing further and further speechless for words as his lips nipped lightly at your earlobe, growing rougher as he trailed down, licking and pressing deep kisses to the spot just below your ear.

“Answer me,” he ground out through gritted teeth, tongue dragging along your jawline as your head subconsciously tilted back to give him better access to your skin, a quiet gasp leaving your lips.

“Didn’t you hear what I said?” He questioned when you didn’t answer, one of his hands moving up along your stomach to squeeze your breast hard through your top.

When you only let out a shameless moan in response, clearly enjoying his touch, Jungwon tsked, “I said answer me, honey.”

“N-no,” you managed to choke out in response to his question, between breathless gasps, back arching slightly off the wall as you felt his fingers rolling your hardening nipple skillfully through fabric.

“Hm? You sure? Because I don’t think you’d wear things like this by accident, do you?” He mumbled, his voice dropping to a whisper as his lips attacked the skin of your neck.

You could only shake your head, already losing track of the questions he was asking as he pulled away, making you whine in response.

“Stand up,” his eyes met your slightly dazed ones, disoriented with desire and obedience.

You straightened up with his free hand on your hip steadying you, before it slid down and disappeared straight underneath the waistband of your shorts, making you tense up for moment and gasp out loud.

Jungwon let out a knowing chuckle, a smirk pulling at one of the corners of his lips as he felt how soaked you were on his fingers.

“No panties too? You were just dying to have me weren’t you, honey?” He nuzzled his nose against yours, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the way he was touching you.

He pushed your top up, letting the material bunch around the tops of your chest, eyes marveling as he scanned the sight of your breasts out in the open for him.

You could only whimper in response, lost in the haze of his fingers brushing your glistening folds in your shorts, palm pressing up against you pussy as he ground against your wetness with a maddeningly pleasurable pace that drove you wild.

“Such pretty tits-” you heard him murmur out, before his head dropped down so his mouth could take one of your erect nipples, his hand still rubbing you between your legs.

You threw your head back, letting out a little sigh of relief at the pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut as soft moans and breathy whimpers left your lips.

Jungwon didn’t need to ask you anything or even speak to know if you were feeling good, your sinful sounds were more than enough to help him understand and even increase the intense throbbing of his painfully hard cock in his sweats.

When you started grinding against the heel of his palm, seeking more and more friction with your body, Jungwon pushed two of his fingers up into your gummy walls without hesitation, his mouth moving to lavish attention to your other breast as he continued to lick and suck at your swollen skin.

And God did you feel amazing on just his fingers. He couldn’t wait to feel you around his cock.

Your moans grew louder, his name spilling past your lips in a breathless cry as his fingers thrusted with purpose - in and out your pussy with a pace that only quickened by the second.

He smiled around your nipple - soaked with saliva as he pulled away to lick a stripe up from between your breasts to your lips, capturing your mouth with his hot one.

Jungwon kissed you steadily, barely keeping you in your senses and avoiding you from spiraling from pleasure as his free hand continued to caress and massage your breasts, occasionally nudging his upper palm against your folds dripping all over his hand as he relentlessly fingered you.

When your lips parted with muffled whimpers, he used the opportunity to push his tongue into the caverns of your mouth, his tongue dancing with yours as he sunk his fingers deeper into you, hitting that sweet spot that made your body shatter before you could even say so.

You came with a stifled cry into his mouth, drenching his fingers with your release as you came, walls squeezing him.

Jungwon let out a satisfied hum, helping you to ride through your orgasm as he broke the kiss, a string of saliva still connecting your lips before he swiped it away with his tongue.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, pushing down your shorts with his free hand so he could see the mess you made, not wanting to overstimulate you too much and glanced down at your cum all over his digits.

His delighted eyes flickered up, watching the blissed out expression on your face and the satisfaction in your half-lidded eyes.

“Suck,” he demanded, though his voice had turned soft as he held out his soaked fingers to you.

You blinked slowly, processing his words before you parted your lips as a silent offering.

He pushed them inside your mouth, a dark glint sparkling in his eyes as he watched your lips wrap around his fingers and suck your cum off of them, tongue swirling.

The sight and sensation only made him harder, his cock begging for relief, but he ignored it, focusing on you and only you.

When you were done, he extracted his fingers from your mouth, fingers with your saliva running along your stomach as he sank down to his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You blinked, eyes going wide when you understood where this was going now.

“Wait no- Won I- I can’t-” you tried to protest with a hoarse whine, but your words instantly dissolved into a shaky moan as you felt Jungwon’s eager tongue pressing up against your folds - covered with the remnants of your release.

Your fingers immediately sank into his soft hair, head falling back and your lips shaping into a small ‘o’ as he pressed soft kisses and careful kitten licks to your swollen clit.

Once he cleaned you up with his tongue, he pushed his face a bit more further against your pussy, hands prying your legs apart to accommodate him better.

His nose bumped your clit steadily, adding to the intense burn of pleasure settling into your stomach as you gasped and cried out, barely able to speak and resorting to just letting yourself feel everything as Jungwon ate you out.

You felt his tongue ravish your folds between your legs, occasionally humming in approval at your taste as vibrations reverberated up your spine.

“W-won I- I can’t-” you tried to gasp out again, barely able to contain the release bubbling up in you as you writhed and squirmed.

But Jungwon only kept going, if anything intensifying his actions as he pushed his tongue up lightly into your sopping hole, to which you responded with a wild jolt of your hips as his name spilled past your mouth in a scream.

He smirked at your reaction, your moans only pleasing him by the minute as he sucked and nipped at your folds, your arousal smearing along his mouth, chin and surrounding cheek area.

When he felt your body tense, your second orgasm about to hit, Jungwon delved his tongue up further against your wet walls, swirling around the spongy muscle there as your moans and whimpers grew higher in pitch.

It didn’t take too long for you to come again, practically drenching his entire face from the way he guided your hips to grind against his face, barely able to hold yourself up with the hands on the wall behind you as your knees shook.

Jungwon pressed soft kisses and licks to your pussy to calm your body down, helping you through your orgasm before pulling away and licking all over his mouth with wherever his tongue could reach.

He scooped you up bridal style, pressing tender kisses all over your utterly content face, as he walked towards the counter to clean you up, mumbling as he went while you remained blissed out and limp in his arms.

“You did so well for me, honey,” his lips brushing your forehead as he spoke.

“So fucking good for me.”

The kitchen was filled with the soft clink of utensils a week later.

Encouraged to strengthen the bond of your new-found relationship with Jungwon, you begged him to bake with you - a favorite past-time hobby of yours - and he relented.

You stood at the counter, whisk in hand, beating softened butter into a glass mixing bowl until it turned pale and fluffy.

Jungwon was leaning beside you, watching with a grin that made you shake your head as his wide cat eyes watched your every move - eager to help as he eyed your body in a casual, short, pink summer dress, the apron you were wearing only accentuating the soft curves of your body further.

“You’re staring again,” you said knowingly, switching to a wooden spoon.

“I’m supervising,” he replied, reaching behind you for the measuring spoons and lightly smacking your ass when his hand brushed your back.

“Not like anyone told you to wear such a pretty dress around me,” he commented, biting his lip as his eyes shamelessly trailed over your body.

You stiffened for a moment, your breath hitching as you shot his smirking figure a sideways glare.

You nudged him lightly with your elbow, “Supervisors don’t hover over the bowl.”

“Or me,” you added as an afterthought.

He held up a teaspoon, smiling cheekily, “Sugar?”

“Brown sugar first. Two scoops.”

Jungwon scooped one, then a half, then another half.

“That’s not two,” you sighed, rolling your eyes.

“It’s my interpretation of two, honey,” he hummed.

“You’re impossible,” you groaned, mentally face-palming yourself.

“And yet, you were the one that begged me to do this with you and let me help.”

You handed him the vanilla extract, “Alright then. One teaspoon, Mr. Helper. And don’t freestyle.”

Jungwon poured carefully, surprisingly precise, “See? I can follow orders.”

“Only when cookies are involved,” you teased lightly.

He smirked, raising his eyebrows, “Or when you’re involved you mean?”

You ignored the warmth bubbling up in your chest and reached for the flour, Jungwon grabbing the sifter before you could.

“I’ve got it,” he said confidently, tapping the metal rim so the flour drifted down like soft snow.

You watched him silently for a moment as you observed, “You’re actually good at this.”

“I’m good at everything,” he retorted teasingly, glancing over at you for a moment when he was done.

He reached over, lifting his free hand to brush a bit of flour off your cheek with his thumb.

You rolled your eyes, ears turning a soft shade of pink but you didn’t move away, “Pass me the spatula.”

Jungwon handed it over, fingers brushing yours. You felt a spark of electricity shoot through you at the touch and judging by the way he tensed slightly, he felt it too.

You folded the dough gently, then nodded towards the chocolate chips.

“Add them,” you instructed softly.

He poured a handful straight into the bowl.

“A handful is not a measurement, Won,” you chided softly.

“It is if you love chocolate,” he replied cheerily, “There’s no such things as too much of it. Also, can I melt the remainder later? Wanna do something.”

You bubbled out a laugh when he winked at you, “Fine. But for now, mix.”

He took the wooden spoon, stirring with exaggerated seriousness.

“Perfect technique,” he boasted.

“You’re stirring like you’re defusing a bomb,” you chuckled.

Jungwon shrugged lightly, “Same level of importance.”

You scooped dough on to the baking tray using a small ice-cream scoop and he followed after you, flattening each mound slightly with the back of a spoon.

He was standing directly behind you now, body pressed up against yours and his chin on top of your head as he worked, often pressing sweet kisses to your hair, not caring about the angles he’d have to bend his arms at to do his task.

“You’re making them too round,” he complained dramatically.

“They’re cookies, not tactical gear, dumbass,” you laughed.

He guided your hand gently, playing along as he intertwined his fingers above yours, “Still want them even.”

You leaned back a little, the hard planes of his body behind yours a constant reminder of how close he was against you and of your recent sexual encounters.

“Then help me,” you responded, though Jungwon had more than enough sense to figure out what you really wanted help with.

He looked down at you as you lifted your head up to meet his gaze, his hand trailing up from yours and along your arm while his hips teasingly rolled against you from behind.

You immediately groaned, playing innocent even though you basically started this, “Won- now’s not the time-”

“Hm?” Jungwon hummed, shifting his head to bury his face against your neck as he kissed and sucked dark marks against your skin, noticing the ones from a few days prior already fading.

“You said you wanted me to help you didn’t you? So I’m helping you now, honey-” he murmured out.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good okay?” He nipped at the dip of your collarbone, his hands freely roaming your body now as he undid your apron without missing a beat, pulling away only to lift it up and off of you.

You let out a soft whimper, practically melting back against him, all focus on making cookies forgotten as you pushed back against him for a moment, making him deepen the pace of his slow grinding against you.

“Jungwon please-” you let out, voice breathy as he used one of his free hands to grip your hips and keep you steady, the other reaching up and massaging the softness of your breast through your dress as you weren’t wearing a bra again.

“Please what honey? Needy for me already I see,” he mused, lifting his head just in time to catch your hand snaking down your dress to the hem.

“Nuh uh- that’s my pussy to play with,” he breathed against your ear, hand leaving your hip to grip at your wrist, pulling your hand away.

You whined in response, body trembling when he rolled his hips against your ass with a particularly slow and deep grind, wanting you to feel every inch of his arousal against yourself.

You couldn’t take it anymore, whirling around, impatiently looking up at him.

A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes, ready to torment you further, “Wait.”

He pulled away from you, much to your disappointment, but you obeyed, desperate eyes watching his every move.

Jungwon grabbed the remainder of chocolate chips in the bowl, moving over to the microwave and setting a timer for a few seconds to let it melt.

Once it was done, the microwave beeping, he brought it back over to you, eyes still sparkling as he gestured to your mouth, dipping three fingers into the chocolate.

You eagerly parted your lips and he shoved his coated digits into your mouth.

You didn’t need to be told twice on what to do as you let your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking and licking the chocolate clean off them.

A low groan of content reverberated in the back of Jungwon’s throat as he watched you, your widened, dark eyes gazing up at him as he wondered if you’d look this pretty sucking his cock too.

He pulled his fingers out your mouth, wiping your saliva along the exposed area of your upper chest and cleavage, before dipping his fingers in to chocolate again and running his fingers all over that area of your skin and along your neck messily.

After shoving a particularly thick dollop of the melted chocolate between your breasts, he set the half-empty bowl aside and hiked up your dress by your waist, not caring about the stains he was leaving on the pastel pink fabric.

He practically shoved his sweatpants and boxers down, cock jumping out, angry red tip slapping lightly against his stomach as he eyed the familiar sight of your puffy and glistening folds, begging to be touched.

“No panties again honey?” He teased, arching an eyebrow.

You didn’t even bother to answer him, eyes shamelessly roving over his thick and tempting cock - with its veins pulsing through skin beaded with pre-cum along the long shaft.

“My, my, my you really are my shameless slut now, aren’t you? You love my attention don’t you?” His hand reached up, lightly smacking at your clit, making your body tense up.

“You need me, Y/N?” He cooed, to which you nodded rather enthusiastically, eyes blown wide with need, “You sure, honey?”

You were practically squirming with excitement when he spread your legs wider, gently lifting you to sit up on the marble of the kitchen countertop as he stepped between your thighs, hands rubbing up and down them tenderly.

He lathered some of your slick on to his cock, guiding his tip to your soft folds before gently pushing through, making your hands quickly reach up and grip his broad shoulders tightly.

You let out a breathy gasp, already whining out and writhing from just half of him inside your wet and warm walls.

“Won mm- hold on- t-too much-” you tried to splutter out, feeling him split you open.

“Shh- you can take it baby, I promise. Take it for me,” he soothed gently, pressing sweet kisses all over your face as he kept stroking your thighs.

If he had to admit, he wanted nothing more than to lose all the resistance he was desperately clinging on to right now and rather just fuck you senseless.

You were squeezing him so tightly, your walls wrapping perfectly around his cock in ways of pure ecstasy that he’d never felt before.

When he finally bottomed out and you appeared to be much more relaxed - breathing ragged between mixed whimpers and gasps, as you felt full with him inside you, Jungwon let out a content sigh.

He didn’t dare move too fast for fear of hurting you, even if he wanted to be rough with sex he’d never want to harm you in any way.

So he kept up a slow and languid pace, making sure you could feel every inch of his cock rubbing your walls.

You had your head thrown back, eyes shut as sweet moans left your lips in a frenzy from the way Jungwon was making you feel.

His head dipped down, licking clean all the chocolate lathered on your body with a long strokes of his tongue from your neck and all the way down to bury his face between your tits.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, waves of ecstasy trembling through your body, whimpering his name as his tip kept rubbing that sweet spot deep up inside you.

He was still so gentle with everything, his cock dragging along your gummy walls as his lips pressed tender kisses to your sensitive skin.

Who knew vanilla sex with your childhood best friend could be this damn good?

You were gasping and moaning out, lips parted as your eyes fluttered open, eyebrows furrowing at a prickling feeling of being watched against your back.

You turned your head to look back, elbows propping you up on the counter, breathing labored still as Jungwon continued to lavish attention to your body, clearly not sensing anything amiss.

Your heart almost stopped, voice catching in your throat for a moment as you made eye contact with a sadistic face - eyes filled with pleasure and a twisted smirk on the man’s lips as he watched you and Jungwon fuck rather intently.

You could only see his face from where he was peeping by the entrance leading off from the kitchen and into the hallway, finally snapping back to reality and quickly trying to push Jungwon off of you.

“Won wait- Jungwon-!” you tried to get him to stop.

He let out a soft grunt of disapproval between the soft moans he was letting out, feeling your hands trying to pry him away from you, “Hm?”

“I’m serious- stop,” you managed to find your voice now, Jungwon snapping his head up to your face worriedly as he hastily pulled away from you, confused.

“What?! Are you hurt? What’s wrong, honey??” He scanned your face, glancing between where you were just conjoined, searching for injuries, before you quickly shoved your dress down.

You couldn’t believe it, when you thought about how you’d face this man, you never thought it would be like this.

“He’s here,” you hopped off the counter, helping Jungwon pull his own boxers and sweats up.

“What?” Jungwon furrowed his eyebrows, still a bit disoriented from the pleasure you both just felt to think straight.

“Jang Seohyun,” you turned back around to where you saw the man’s face, it felt like ice was doused down your body when you noticed he was gone, “I swear I just saw him there- Jungwon I-”

He frowned, immediately pulling you in for a tight hug to calm you down, tears welling up in your eyes from shock and soaking his tshirt as his eyes scanned the kitchen for any sign of Jang, stroking your back.

“Shh it’s okay, we’ll find him I promise. I just need you to calm down for me alright?”

You nodded, trying to fight more of your tears and how horrified you were at the moment as you wiped your eyes.

“Good girl. Come on, let’s get this son of a bitch.”

When you finally managed to compose yourself again, you were holding on to Jungwon’s free arm tightly as he grabbed a pair of spare guns you both kept hidden in one of the kitchen cupboards.

You also had your trusty dagger strapped to your thigh under your dress, just in case.

He handed you a pistol after checking to make sure it was okay, worried eyes flickering over to you as you appeared to still be a bit shaky and maybe even embarrassed about what happened.

He was too, definitely, but he had more important things to focus on.

Jang Seohyun had finally made his move and it was time for Jungwon to protect you at all costs.

No matter what.

“You alright?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could even nod and respond, a soft creak echoed from the hallway just outside the kitchen - slow, deliberate, as if someone was testing how much noise they could make without being heard.

He immediately moved in front of you, protective instincts kicking in, “Stay behind me.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep up your usual playful act, but Jungwon heard the tremble in your voice, “I can walk on my own, you know.”

“Sure. Humor me,” he muttered under his breath.

You both approached the hallway together, guns aimed and ready. The air felt heavier and colder, a shiver running down your spine at the thought of what you may find.

Jungwon reached for the only door at the direct end of the hallway - the storage room, hand hovering over the knob.

Then, a voice came from inside, deep and chilling.

One you particularly, recognized all too well.

“Finally,” Seohyun said calmly, “I was wondering how long it would take you two to notice. But then again, you both were rather- occupied might I suggest?”

Jungwon shoved the door open.

Jang stood in the middle of the room - relaxed, almost amused.

Never a good sign.

Dust coated his boots and a black jumpsuit he was wearing. A small duffel bag sat at his feet - half-unzipped, revealing surveillance equipment, most likely that he used to use from his tech company.

He’d been watching you both.

Studying. Waiting.

An uneasy feeling creeped up into the back of your mind at the thought and you carefully reached behind your back, pressing a hidden panic button on your smart watch without either Jungwon or Jang Seohyun noticing you.

You then suddenly stepped forward, jaw tight, “You were hiding here? In the agency’s safe house? How shameless can you get?”

He turned his gaze to you - slow, deliberate, predatory.

“You’re the one I came for. Of course I’d find a way to get in. But believe me darling, if anyone is shameless it’s you.”

He responded calmly, a knowing smile curling on his lips.

“You’re a rather enticing minx during sex aren’t you?”

Jungwon immediately moved between you and the other man, gun raised, “Don’t even think about touching her.”

Jang merely chuckled, arching an eyebrow, “You think you can stop me either way? I’ve been ten steps ahead of you since I escaped.”

You tilted your head, unimpressed, “If you were ten steps ahead of us, you wouldn’t be cornered in a storage room.”

The man smirked, “Cornered? I walked in here on purpose, darling.”

Jungwon’s grip on his gun tightened, “Why?”

Jang’s eyes flicked to you again, “To see how far you’d go to protect her. Obviously.”

You felt Jungwon stiffen beside you.

He continued, voice low and taunting, “You’re predictable. The moment I realized she wasn’t alone and had you now. I did as much research and background checks as I could. It’s rather admirable I’ll say. You’d burn the whole agency down even if it meant keeping her alive.”

Jungwon didn’t deny it.

He stepped forward, gun steady, “You’re done, Jang. Hands where I can see them.”

Seohyun raised his hands slowly - but his smirk didn’t fade.

“You still don’t get it,” he said, “I wasn’t hiding from you. In fact, I was in plain sight the entire time.”

He looked directly at you, “I was merely waiting for the right time. For you, darling.”

You crossed your arms, trying to keep up a bold front, expression sharp, “Well. Here I am. Now what?”

Jungwon shot you a look, “Y/N-”

“What?” You said, “He wanted me. So, let’s hear him out.”

Jang laughed softly, “I knew you’d be bold. I like that.”

Jungwon snapped, “Don’t talk to her like that.”

You nudged his arm, “Relax. I can handle a creep.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” he muttered in response under his breath.

Jang Seohyun watched you both with immense interest, “Ah. There it is. That chemistry and playfulness I’ve been waiting to see for myself. Willingly that is.”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, “Shut up.”

Jang paid no attention as he continued, “You two are definitely a force not to be reckoned with wouldn’t say? And I mean with the way he was fucking you just now-”

“I said, shut up!” Jungwon cut him off, voice raised as his finger rested on the trigger of his pistol now.

Jang merely laughed, thoroughly amused and encouraged by Jungwon’s reaction as he glanced down at his body in the jumpsuit, making your cheeks flush a bright red when you noticed he actually got aroused from watching you two of you just now.

You stepped closer to him, voice soft but firm as you tried to compose yourself, despite how overwhelmed you felt, “Ignore him. He’s trying to get into our heads.”

Jungwon exhaled slowly, grounding himself, then held up his gun again, “This ends now.”

Seohyun’s smile finally faded, “Oh? Does it?”

And in one swift motion, one that Jungwon was anticipating, Jang kicked the duffel bag - sending a flash grenade rolling across the floor toward you both.

Your eyes widened, “Move!”

Another unfamiliar voice yelled from behind the three of you, from somewhere outside the storage room, “Get down!”

Someone grabbed you, pulling you on the floor behind them as the grenade detonated in a burst of blinding white light.

The world went white, gunfire erupting from behind you as backup drew closer and closer.

Your ears rang as you stayed down, praying to God that Jungwon was safe as you knew damn well the person holding you secure wasn’t him right now.

You felt the person’s arm around you, shielding you.

The gunfire ceased only when you heard a sharp grunt of pain, eyes going wide when you recognized Jungwon’s pained voice.

“Oh fuck,” you pushed yourself away from the person, rushing over to where Jungwon had collapsed to his knees on the storage room floor, hands clutching at a gunshot wound near his chest.

Heavily armed agents from your personal protection detail swiveled around you both and you barely registered their bustle or Jang Seohyun’s dead body on the floor - wheremultiple bullet holes were embedded all over his body, soaked in a pool of blood.

All you could think about was Jungwon’s injury, fingers shakily resting on top of his hands, not caring if the blood soaked through.

Your eyes blurred with tears, meeting Jungwon’s glassy ones, your voice breaking, “Fuck- no, no, no- Jungwon-”

You heard voices in the background, some faintly yelling for medics, but your own head was swimming at the moment, mind in a haze.

You tried to stay calm, tears streaming down your cheeks as you pressed down forcefully on his wound, doing your best to stop the bleeding.

Jungwon merely let out a soft laugh that mingled with pain, a strained smile wobbling on to his lips as he leaned over to kiss you tenderly.

You kissed him back, trying but failing to focus completely on the feel of his lips and he way he whispered against them, somehow completely calm as you heard people shouting all around you, the medical team barging in.

“It’s okay, Y/N. You did so good, honey. It’s over,” he kissed your forehead, bloody fingers intertwining with yours for a moment.

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” He grunted out, voice choked with pain.

Jungwon used his free arm to pull you tightly against him for a brief moment, honing all the remaining strength he could muster at this time to keep you close, even if it was just for a little bit.

“It’s over, my love.”

“Baby, I would die for you, yeah” - Die For You, The Weeknd

🏷️: @idkjustforfanfics @kristynaaah

[rikiiholic]

Love me like you do - y.jw

My heads spinning around I can't see clear no more

synopsis: For as long as you could remember, you were never the first choice for the people you loved most. You grew used to the quiet ache of being an afterthought, always left waiting in the background. But everything shifted when you got to college and met your classmate, Jungwon. With him, things were different. He put you first—consistently and without hesitation. Even at a party, when a chaotic game of dare forced him to choose between you and someone else, he didn't blink. He chose you, proving that to him, you were never a runner-up.

Genre: fluff, love at first sight, pure love

Warnings: nothing just tooth rotting fluff and some cute kisses

It all started in psychology class. The moment Jungwon saw you, the world seemed to quiet down. You were, without a doubt, the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on. But it wasn’t just your face that captivated him; it was your soul. Your personality was breathtakingly beautiful, wrapped in a sweetness so genuine it felt almost angelic. From that single class onward, he was completely undone—he just couldn't get over you.

From that day on, arriving at class became the highlight of his day. The moment he walked through the door, his eyes would immediately scan the room to find you, ensuring he snagged a seat right next to yours. It gave him the perfect excuse to just exist in your orbit. He found himself quietly admiring every detail—the effortless way your smile lit up the room, the faint, comforting scent that always lingered around you. He was completely captivated; there wasn't a single detail about you he didn't love.

The opportunity finally came on a quiet afternoon in the dining hall. It was one of your rare free days, and you were sitting with your friend, half-eating, half-studying over a mountain of textbooks. Gathering every ounce of courage he had, Jungwon walked over, his heart hammering against his ribs. He stopped right at the edge of your table, his hands adjusting the strap of his backpack nervously.

"Um... Y-Y/N?" he stammered, his voice a little softer than he intended.

You looked up from your laptop, a bright, welcoming smile instantly lighting up your face. "Hi! You're Jungwon, right? From my psych class?"

Hearing his name leave your lips felt like a lightning bolt straight to his chest. She knows my name. The thought echoed in his mind, making him feel like he was floating straight to heaven. The sheer joy washed away all his nervous stuttering.

"Yeah, I am!" he beamed, a wide, relieved grin breaking across his face.

You smiled warmly, gesturing to the open space beside you. "Did you want to study with us?" you asked, shifting your laptop and moving over just enough to make room for him.

Jungwon’s heart did a little flip, but he made sure to be polite. "May I?" he asked, looking at you for confirmation.

You offered an encouraging nod. "Of course."

Ever since that day, Tina hadn’t stopped teasing you about it. "Girl, he is so into you!" she gushed, leaning over her desk with a massive grin. "Did you see how nervous he was? It was the cutest thing ever."

You couldn't help but laugh, a small blush creeping up your cheeks as you smiled at her. "I'm sure he was just trying to be polite, Tina."

"Orrrrr," Tina countered, rolling her eyes playfully and drawing out the word as she leaned in closer. "He was nervous because it was you he was talking to."

She tapped her chin thoughtfully, refusing to let her theory go. "Think about it. The guy literally looked like he was about to faint just from you saying hello. That's not politeness, babe. That’s a massive crush."

It didn’t take long for Tina’s theory to start sounding like the absolute truth. The signs were everywhere, impossible to ignore. Every time you walked into psychology class, Jungwon would automatically shift over, making a welcoming space for you beside him. Whenever you met up to study, he’d already have a coffee waiting—and he had even memorized your exact, specific cafe order without you ever having to tell him twice. Whatever subtle spark had existed between you for that short period of time had undeniably bloomed into something real.

Even now, as you both picked out classes for the next semester, his priority was entirely on you. He’d constantly ask what you wanted to take, eager to align his schedule with yours. No guy had ever put this much effort into you before.

"We can take math together; it's a requirement for both our majors anyway," he said, tapping his fingers against the laptop screen.

But you weren't listening. You were entirely focused on him, rather than whatever he was yapping about.

"I also think..." His words slowly faded into background noise as you watched the earnest expression on his face. Your eyes traced the way his lips moved, the genuine warmth in his eyes. What was this sudden, overwhelming feeling swelling in your chest? Was it love?

"Y/N? Are you listening?"

His voice suddenly snapped you out of it. The gentle haze evaporated, replaced by the reality of Jungwon leaning closer, a look of genuine concern washing over his face. "Are you feeling well?"

Before you could even process the question, he reached out and placed the cool palm of his hand against your forehead to check your temperature. Your heart skipped a violent beat at the sudden contact, the warmth of his skin sending a jolt through you.

"I'm okay!" you blurted out, perhaps a little too quickly as you gently tilted your head back. "Sorry, I just... uh, zoned out."

"It's okay," he murmured, his concern melting away into a soft smile.

God, that smile

It was the kind of smile that made the rest of the crowded room entirely disappear. It crinkled the corners of his eyes and sent a wave of genuine warmth straight through you, leaving you completely defenseless against the realization that you were falling, fast and hard.

With midterms finally behind you, you walked back to your dorm, only to find a surprise waiting outside your door. Jungwon was standing there, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clutching something tightly in his hands.

"What's wrong?" you asked, concern instantly tightening your chest.

"Nothing! Uh, I just... uh..." He stumbled over his words, his face flushing. He took a breath and nervously held out two tickets to an amusement park. "Would you like to go with me this weekend?"

Before you could even answer, he rushed to explain himself. "I just, uh... I was supposed to go with Riki, but something came up. So, uh, of course I wanted to ask you."

It was a total lie. Riki had never been part of the plan. Jungwon had bought those tickets specifically for the two of you, praying he'd find the courage to hand them over.

A soft smile broke across your face as you watched him fumble, finding his nervous energy absolutely endearing.

"I'd love to go with you," you said gently.

The moment the words left your mouth, the tight tension in Jungwon's shoulders visibly melted away. A brilliant, breathless grin lit up his entire face, his eyes crinkling with pure relief. The boy who had been terrified of rejection just a second ago looked like he had just won the lottery. "Really? Awesome. I'll—I'll pick you up on Saturday then."

skip

Time moved differently for both of you that week. For you, Saturday arrived in a flash. For Jungwon, it felt like a century. He was still caught in a spiral of overthinking Is it a date? Or just a casual hangout? Giving up on the semantics, he focused on his outfit, pulling on a relaxed beige hoodie and a pair of baggy jeans. Good, comfortable, and classic.

Across campus, a similar wardrobe crisis was unfolding in your room. After trying on half your closet, you finally pulled out a combination that felt just right a simple white crop top paired with a beige plaid skirt.

Standing in front of your respective mirrors, completely oblivious to the other, you both managed to coordinate perfectly.

The sudden knock on your door made your stomach do a nervous flip. Quickly grabbing your handbag and phone, you took a deep breath and swung the door open.

There stood Jungwon, looking incredibly handsome in his casual beige hoodie. The moment his eyes landed on you, taking in your white crop top and matching beige plaid skirt, his eyes widened in surprise. A slow, beautiful grin broke across his face.

"Looks like we matched," he said, his voice soft and full of amusement.

Hearing him say it out loud brought a sudden warmth to your face, a noticeable blush tinting your cheeks as you looked down at your synchronized outfits.

"Looks like we did," you agreed, smoothing down your skirt to hide how nervous you suddenly felt.

You locked your door, completely oblivious to the way Jungwon’s eyes lingered on you, a knowing look passing over his features. You had no idea that this accidental matching outfit was the absolute best thing that could have happened for what he was planning later.

"Ready to go?" he asked, offering to take your bag with a chivalrous charm that made your heart skip yet another beat.

The drive to the amusement park was filled with easy laughter and the playlist Jungwon had spent hours curating. By the time you arrived, the park was buzzing with energy—the distant screams from the rollercoasters, the scent of fresh churros in the air, and the bright, chaotic colors of the fairgrounds wrapping around you.

As you walked through the gates, several pairs of eyes lingered on the two of you. Walking side-by-side in your matching beige outfits, you looked undeniably like a couple. Jungwon definitely noticed, his chest swelling with a quiet sense of pride as he guided you through the crowds, his hand hovering just inches from the small of your back to keep you close.

"Alright," he said, turning to you with an excited glint in his eyes. "Where are we heading first? Big drops, or are we warming up with something easy?"

"Let's do something simple first," you said, gesturing toward the spinning carousel nearby.

"Simple it is," Jungwon agreed instantly, a soft laugh escaping his lips. He didn’t care what ride you picked; he was just thrilled to be there with you.

You pointed toward the classic carnival games lining the boardwalk. "How about those?"

"Oh, a challenge," he teased, his eyes lighting up as he pushed his hands into his hoodie pockets. He walked beside you, his shoulder brushing yours with every step. The proximity was making your head spin more than any ride could. "See anything you like? Because I am strictly mandated by best-friend law—and, uh, just regular law—to win you whatever prize you want."

"You want to win me something? Let's see if you can," you teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Jungwon’s eyes flashed with a sudden, intense determination. A competitive smirk replaced his nervous grin, and he rolled up the sleeves of his beige hoodie like he was preparing for battle. "Oh, it's on now," he said, adjusting his posture as he scanned the row of booths. "Name it, Y/N. Point to whatever prize you want, because I am not leaving this park empty-handed."

"Mmm, that Hello Kitty plushie," you said, pointing toward the top shelf of the basketball booth where a huge, soft Hello Kitty sat wearing a little matching bow

Jungwon followed your line of sight, his eyes narrowing playfully as he locked onto the target. "The Hello Kitty it is," he murmured, his competitive side fully taking over. He paid the booth attendant and bounced the basketball twice, completely focused. "Just give me three shots. That plushie is yours, Y/N."

...

You had spent hours with him at the boardwalk, and every single second felt like a dream. From screaming together on the rides to him buying you ice cream, to the two of you running wildly along the sand as the afternoon sun warmed your skin—it was absolutely perfect.

As the night finally came to an end and the stars began to blanket the sky, Jungwon grew quietly nervous again. Stepping up behind you, he gently covered your eyes with his warm hands, his chest pressed lightly against your back. He guided you carefully down toward the shoreline, the cool ocean water rushing up to lap at your bare feet.

"Okay," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "Open them."

When he took his hands away, the scene in front of you took your breath away. The beach was glowing. Dozens of candles flickered in the dark, casting a golden light over a sea of beautiful flower petals arranged in the shape of a giant heart. And there, carefully traced in the center of the sand, were the words: Will you be my girlfriend?

You covered your mouth in utter shock, tears of happiness pricking the corners of your eyes. "Jungwon, this—"

"I never got flaked on by Riki," he cut you off softly. He took a slow step closer, closing the distance between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from his beige hoodie. His gaze was intense, completely stripped of any playful walls. "I... I bought those tickets specifically for the two of us because I truly like you so much. Ever since you walked into that lecture hall four months ago, everything changed for me. You make me happier, you make me more confident, and I wouldn't want anyone else by my side. Y/N L/N, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes," you whispered, the word escaping your lips just as the tears finally threatened to spill over.

The moment he heard your answer, the last of Jungwon's nervous tension vanished, replaced by a radiant, breathless smile. Before you could even take another breath, he stepped forward, wrapping his strong arms securely around your waist. He lifted you right off your feet, spinning you slightly as the cool ocean breeze swirled around you. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck, burying your face into the soft fabric of his beige hoodie, listening to the rapid, joyous thumping of his heart against your chest.

"I knew you guys would be a thing!" Tina said happily, leaning across the table as the three of you studied together yet again in the cafe. She pointed a finger accusingly at Jungwon. "I told her so many times how down bad you were for her, she didn't listen to me."

Jungwon instantly choked on his iced coffee, his face turning a comical shade of bright crimson. He quickly set his cup down, coughing into his hand as he tried to regain his composure. "Tina, please," he muttered, his eyes darting to you in a panic before he looked back down at his textbook, his ears burning. "I was being subtle."

"Subtle?!" Tina laughed loudly, drawing a few looks from neighboring tables. "You literally looked like a puppy waiting for its owner every time she walked into the room!"

Jungwon rolled his eyes, snatching a spring roll from the plate between you and shoving it right into her mouth. "Shut up," he said, though the fond, helpless smile on his face took away any actual bite.

Tina chewed furiously, swallowed the roll with a dramatic gasp, and immediately continued speaking without missing a beat. "But still! Matching on the first date, on accident?! Gosh, I feel like I'm watching a drama!"

You hid your face in your hands, laughing as Jungwon just sighed, resting his chin in his hand. He looked sideways at you, his eyes softening as he watched you blush. "See what I have to deal with now?" he murmured playfully, though he didn't look like he minded the drama-level romance one bit.

Tina scoffs "please she was mine first before you stole her" she says leaning closer "you hurt my girl and I swear I'll break your ribs"

Tina’s sudden shift from hyper cheerleader to fiercely protective best friend was so fast it gave you whiplash.

Jungwon didn't even flinch. Instead, his playful demeanor completely settled, and he sat up a little straighter in his chair. He looked Tina dead in the eye, his expression turning entirely sincere.

"I won't," he said, his voice quiet but completely steady. He gave your hand a firm, reassuring squeeze under the table, letting you know he meant every single word. "You don't ever have to worry about that."

Tina stared at him for a solid three seconds, inspecting his face for any sign of a joke. Finally, she slumped back into her chair with a satisfied sigh, tossing a stray fry into her mouth. "Good. Because I'm scrappy, Jungwon. I will fight a K-pop idol lookalike, don't test me."

You burst out laughing, the tension instantly breaking as Jungwon shook his head, a soft, dimpled smile returning to his face. He leaned over, his shoulder bumping yours affectionately. "See? I'm already being threatened and we've only been official for a week. You're going to protect me, right?"

"Of course I will," you smiled at him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze back.

Tina cleared her throat loudly, completely unfazed by the sudden display of affection. "Ahem, anyway," she shifted the conversation, leaning over her laptop with a conspiratorial grin. "There's a party this weekend that my sorority is holding, and I can bring friends. You guys better come. No complaining."

Jungwon sighed dynamically, resting his forehead right against your shoulder with a dramatic groan. "Tina, we just survived a date at an amusement park. Now you want us to handle a sorority party?"

"Uh, yes? It's mandatory boyfriend initiation," Tina countered, pointing her pen at him. "Besides, you two can wear your matching outfits again. Everyone loves a couple that coordinates."

Jungwon peeked up from your shoulder, a faint blush creeping back onto his cheeks as he looked at you. "What do you think, Y/N? Do we have enough social battery for a party this weekend, or should we make up a very convincing excuse?"

"Sounds fun, we'll go," you said, making the executive decision.

Jungwon simply nodded, a soft smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair. "I'm only going because my girl wants to go," he said, his tone entirely casual but dripping with a new, confident boyfriend energy.

Tina stopped mid-sip of her drink and glared at him over the rim of her cup. "Don't get cocky, lover boy."

Jungwon just chuckled, completely unfazed by her glare, and looked over at you with a fond, crinkled smile. He bumped his knee against yours under the table, silently signaling that as long as he was there with you, he didn't actually mind whatever chaotic sorority theme Tina was about to drag you both into.

"Fine, fine," Tina muttered, opening her phone to type something. "I'm adding you both to the guest list before you change your minds. But seriously... no matching outfits this time, okay? I can only handle so much romance in one week."

"I thought you said we should and that it was cute," you said, tossing a betrayed look her way.

Tina looked up from her phone and gave you a deadpan stare. "Not anymore! Just wear something nice! If you two show up looking like a walking department store catalog again, I’m going to spend the whole night feeling single."

Jungwon let out a quiet chuckle, his eyes crinkling as he watched you defend the matching outfits. He leaned in closer to you, his voice dropping to a playful whisper that Tina definitely couldn't hear over the café music. "Don't listen to her. We can still accidentally coordinate. I'll text you what color I'm wearing before I leave."

Tina slammed her laptop shut, catching the tail end of his whispering. "I see you, Jungwon! No plotting! I want a normal, non-synchronized couple at this party!"

You couldn’t help the grin that broke across your face as you stood in the doorway of the party venue. Down the hall, Tina was walking toward you, but the moment her eyes landed on the two of you, she froze mid-step.

Too bad for Tina, you and Jungwon had completely accidentally matched. Again.

"Are you serious?" she said, her jaw practically dropping in surprise as she marched over. "It's either you two planned it, or you really are soulmates."

Jungwon looked down at your outfits, then back up at Tina, a completely genuine, helpless laugh escaping him. He honestly hadn't texted you his outfit color, and you hadn't texted him yours—yet here you were, perfectly color-coordinated down to the style of your jackets.

"I swear we didn't plan it this time," Jungwon said, his dimples popping as he naturally slipped his arm around your waist, pulling you close against his side. He looked down at you, his eyes brimming with pure affection. "But I’m definitely leaning toward the soulmates theory."

Tina dragged you both into the living room, where the party was already loud and buzzing.

"Let's go, we're playing a game of truth or dare!" someone shouted, and suddenly everyone was gathering in a massive circle on the floor. A couple of Tina's sorority sisters cleared off the coffee table, placing an empty glass bottle right in the dead center.

"One person spins, whoever it lands on has to do a truth or dare," Laya, the sorority president, explained loudly over the music, pointing a manicured finger at the bottle.

Jungwon pulled you down to sit next to him on the floor, the proximity of the crowded room forcing him to sit close. His knee pressed against yours, and his arm rested comfortably behind your back along the base of the couch. He leaned in slightly, his lips brushing the edge of your ear so you could hear him over the chatter.

"If that bottle points at me, you're helping me pick truth," he whispered playfully, a nervous but excited glint in his eyes. "I don't trust your friends with a dare."

Before you could reply, Laya gave the bottle a hard flick. It sent the glass spinning in a blur right in the middle of the circle, everyone leaning forward in anticipation.

The bottle stops on Jungwon first "okay pretty boy" Laya says "truth or dare" she asks

"Truth" he says, no hesitation "out of all the girls here, who is the prettiest" she asks, he immediately looks towards you "Y/N" he says, with no hesitation

A collective, dramatic chorus of "Ooooooh!" and squeals instantly erupted from the sorority girls, completely drowning out the background music.

Tina was practically vibrating next to you, slapping her knee. "I told you! Down bad! It’s chronic!"

Laya laughed, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Okay, okay, that was way too easy. No hesitation at all! You didn't even look around the room."

Jungwon didn't care about the teasing. He kept his eyes locked on you, a soft, incredibly proud smile dimpling his cheeks as he watched you blush under the spotlight. His hand reached down, his fingers finding yours against the carpet and giving them a firm, affectionate squeeze.

"My turn to spin, right?" Jungwon asked, leaning forward to reach the bottle, eager to shift the burning spotlight away from his own face—even if he meant every single word he just said.

He gave the glass bottle a sharp twist, sending it whirring around the center of the circle.

the bottle lands on Tina

A triumphant smirk instantly broke across Jungwon's face, his dimples flashing as the bottle slowed to a crawl and pointed its neck directly at Tina.

"Yes!" Jungwon cheered quietly, leaning back and resting his arm comfortably behind your shoulders again. He looked at Tina with a playful, vindictive gleat in his eye. "Karma works fast. Truth or dare, Tina?"

Tina groaned dramatically, throwing her head back against the couch. "Ugh, you rigged that! I see those idol reflexes. Fine, I'll pick truth because I know you're itching to dare me to do something embarrassing."

Jungwon tapped his chin, looking at you for a split second with a mischievous grin before turning back to her. "Okay. Since you've been calling me 'down bad' all week... tell the whole room the most embarrassing thing you've ever done to impress a crush."

The entire circle gasped and leaned in, the sorority girls instantly turning on their own sister. "Oh, you have to tell, Tina!" Laya laughed, pointing at her.

Tina’s face flushed bright red as she glared at Jungwon. "You are evil, Yang Jungwon. Pure evil."

"Say it! Say it! Say it!" the entire room cheered in unison, clapping along to the chant. Even the people sitting on the couch stood up to get a better look at Tina’s impending doom.

Tina covered her face with her hands, groaning loudly as her face turned the color of a ripe tomato. "Okay, okay! Shut up! I'll say it!"

The room instantly fell dead silent, everyone leaning in so close they were practically on top of each other.

"Freshman year of high school," Tina began, her voice tight with absolute mortification. "I had this massive crush on the captain of the swim team. I wanted him to notice me so badly, so when I saw him walking down the main hallway, I tried to do a casual, hot-girl lean against the lockers."

She paused, taking a deep breath to brace herself.

"Except... I completely misjudged the distance. I missed the lockers entirely, slipped on a rogue piece of lettuce from someone's lunch, and took out an entire trash can. I fell inside the recycling bin. In front of him. And the entire varsity football team."

The living room absolutely exploded. People were screaming, rolling on the floor, and slapping the carpet in pure hysteria. Laya was laughing so hard no sound was coming out of her mouth.

Jungwon was losing it next to you, burying his face in your shoulder as his shoulders shook with silent, breathless laughter. He peeked up, wiping a tear from his eye, and looked at Tina. "A piece of lettuce? Seriously?"

"Don't look at me!" Tina yelled, throwing a pillow straight at his head, which he caught easily with a laugh. "It's your turn to spin the bottle, Y/N. Save me from this nightmare!"

You spin the bottle and it lands on Laya

The room was still buzzing with laughter from Tina's tragic lettuce incident as you reached out and gave the bottle a firm spin. It whirled in a fast blur, everyone watching intently as the momentum slowed down, finally clicking to a stop right in front of Laya.

A chorus of "Ooooooh!" echoed through the living room as Laya raised her hands in surrender, a confident smirk on her face. "Alright, Y/N, you got me. Don't hold back. Truth or dare?"

Before you could even answer, the rest of the sorority girls started chanting, "Dare! Dare! Dare!"

Next to you, Jungwon leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing yours as he watched Laya with amusement. "Be careful," he whispered playfully in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "She looks like she can handle a lot, but this is your chance to get some chaotic revenge for the sorority."

"Dare!" you announced confidently. The entire room erupted into cheers, and Tina practically fell forward, completely thrilled that the spotlight was officially off her.

Laya didn't even flinch. She just smirked, crossing her arms. "Alright, Y/N. Lay it on me. What do you got?"

You tapped your chin, glancing around the room before your eyes landed on the kitchen counter across the apartment. "I dare you to go into the kitchen, make a shot out of whatever three random liquids you can find in the fridge—no alcohol, just straight food ingredients—and drink it without making a face."

"Oh, that's foul," one of the girls laughed, while Tina immediately stood up to police the kitchen. "I'm supervising! No cheating!"

Laya stood up with a dramatic sigh, marching over to the fridge. The entire circle migrated to the kitchen opening to watch. Tina gleefully pulled out a bottle of soy sauce, a jar of pickle juice, and a carton of chocolate milk.

"You guys are sick," Laya muttered, pouring a splash of each into a small plastic cup. The concoction looked a horrifying shade of muddy grey. She raised the cup to the room. "For the sorority."

She threw her head back and downed it in one go. For a terrifying second, her eyes widened and her left eye twitched violently, but true to her word, she forcefully kept her face deadpan, slamming the empty cup on the counter.

The room went absolutely wild with cheers. Laya wiped her mouth, gagging slightly, and pointed at the living room. "Back to the circle! Someone is paying for that!"

As everyone scrambled back to their spots, Jungwon pulled you down next to him, his hand instantly finding yours. He was laughing so hard his eyes were curved into perfect little crescents. "Chocolate milk and soy sauce?" he whispered, leaning his forehead against your shoulder for a brief second. "You're terrifying, Y/N. Remind me never to pick dare if you're the one asking."

When the final round came, it was one of the girls who had a crush on Jungwon a few months back that spun, it lands on Jungwon and she looks at him determined.

"Truth or dare?" She asks "truth" he says.

The playful, chaotic energy in the room instantly shifted, growing thick with sudden tension. All eyes turned to the girl—everyone in the room knew she used to have a massive crush on Jungwon before you two became official.

Tina immediately sat up straighter, her eyes narrowing as she locked onto the girl like a hawk. Next to you, Jungwon’s posture didn't change, but his grip on your hand tightened just a fraction under the cover of your jacket, keeping you anchored to him.

The girl leaned forward, her eyes locked onto Jungwon with absolute determination.

"If Y/N hadn't come into the picture," she asked, her voice clear and ringing out over the quiet room, "would you have ever given me, or anyone else in this room, a chance?"

A few people gasped, and a collective, breathless silence fell over the living room. Tina looked ready to vault over the coffee table, but Jungwon didn't even blink. He didn't look flustered, and he didn't hesitate.

He kept his eyes steady on the girl, his expression calm but completely firm.

"No," Jungwon said, his voice quiet but carrying an undeniable weight. He then turned his head, his gaze softening completely as he looked at you, a tiny, reassuring smile gracing his lips. "It was always going to be Y/N. Even before she knew it, it was only her."

A soft, collective "Oh my god..." rippled through the sorority girls. Tina let out a loud, triumphant exhale, leaning back against the couch with a smug smirk. The girl who asked the question blinked, clearly deflated, but nodded in respect to his honesty.

Under the edge of your jacket, Jungwon lifted your hand and gently brought it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, completely tuning out the rest of the room. "Told you," he murmured just for you. "Only you."

The night air was cool, a sharp contrast to the stuffy, high-energy atmosphere of the sorority house. The walk back to your dorm was quiet—not an uncomfortable silence, but a soft, heavy one. Your mind was completely replaying what he had said in that living room. He had chosen you. Out of all the pretty, confident girls in that room, out of anyone he could have easily had, he wanted you.

Jungwon walked close at your side, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, which perfectly matched yours. Every few steps, his shoulder would gently brush against yours, a steady, grounding presence in the dark.

As you reached the steps of your dorm building, he stopped, turning to face you fully. The dim yellow glow of the streetlamp caught the soft edges of his hair and the quiet, contented look in his eyes.

"You're really quiet," he said softly, tilting his head slightly to catch your gaze. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Are you still thinking about what happened at the party?"

He stepped a little closer, breaking the distance between you, waiting for your answer with that undivided attention he only ever gave to you.

You look at him "you chose me" you say, stopping and staring with so much love and confusion as well. "Why?"

Jungwon stared at you, the playful look completely melting from his face as he realized exactly what was going on in your head. The streetlamp cast a soft, warm glow over him, making his eyes look incredibly deep as he stepped closer, closing the remaining distance between you.

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he took his hands out of his pockets and gently reached up, his fingers cupping your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks. His hands were warm against the cool night air.

"Why?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a soft, breathless whisper. He let out a quiet, disbelieving chuckle, shaking his head. "Y/N, look at you. How can you even ask me that?"

He leaned down slightly so he was looking directly into your eyes, making sure you couldn't look away from how utterly sincere he was.

"I didn't just 'choose' you like you were an option on a list. It was never a competition. From the second I really got to know you—your laugh, the way your mind works, how comfortable I feel just sitting in silence with you—everyone else just... faded into the background. You think those girls are pretty? Sure. But they aren't you."

He pressed his forehead gently against yours, closing his eyes for a brief second as his hands slid down to wrap securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"I don't want a drama, and I don't want anyone else. I want the girl who accidentally matches my outfits, who terrifies me with disgusting kitchen dares, and who makes me forget about everything else the second she smiles at me. It’s always been you, Y/N. Don't ever confuse that."

Your breath hitched, a stray tear finally spilling over and tracking down your cheek as his words wrapped around you. Seeing the depth of emotion in his eyes was overwhelming enough, but then he let go of your waist, his hand dipping into his jacket pocket.

When he pulled it out, your heart completely stopped. It was a small, elegant black velvet box.

"I knew you were the one the moment you walked through the door," Jungwon said, his voice thick with a sudden, fierce emotion as he flipped the box open. Nestled inside was a beautiful, simple silver band that caught the dim light of the streetlamp perfectly. "I knew I wanted to be with you for as long as I live... and that's my promise to you."

He looked up from the ring, his gaze locking onto yours, entirely serious and desperately hoping you could feel the weight of everything he was giving you.

"It's a promise ring," he murmured, his fingers trembling just a little bit as he carefully lifted the ring from the velvet lining. "A promise that no matter where we go, or how chaotic things get, I am entirely yours. Always."

He gently took your left hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile, precious thing in the world, his eyes silently asking for your permission to slide it into place.

You let out a soft, breathless sob, nodding quickly as you extended your hand. He slid the ring onto your finger, the cool metal settling perfectly against your skin, a physical anchor to the words he had just spoken.

But before you could even look down at it, Jungwon’s hands were back on your face, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that were spilling over your lashes. He looked at you with an intensity that made your heart hammer against your ribs, his eyes dark and full of a profound, unshakeable devotion.

And then, he leaned down.

For the first time since that nervous, breathless moment he first asked you to be his girlfriend, he pulled you into a kiss. But this wasn't just a sweet, casual display of affection. The moment his lips met yours, it felt like the entire world fell completely away.

It was a deep, consuming kiss, heavy with every unspoken emotion he had been carrying. It carried the warmth of every quiet glance he’d given you, the fierce protectiveness he felt when he held you, and the absolute certainty of the promise he had just made. He pulled you flush against his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as if he wanted to fuse your souls together right there on the steps of your dorm.

You melted into him, your hands finding the lapels of his jacket, gripping the fabric tightly. The kiss was tender but desperate, a beautiful declaration that went far beyond any words he could ever say.

When he finally, slowly pulled back, his lips lingered against yours for a fraction of a second before he rested his forehead against yours again. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in perfect unison. Jungwon kept his eyes closed, a soft, blissed-out smile finally breaking across his face as he tightened his hold on you.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered against your skin, his voice raw and entirely certain. "So much."

"I love you too Jungwon"

end

I wrote this to make up for missing the deadline for yours I will try my best to get It done I've been busy and haven't had time to finish it.

@flowermoonmay @kristynaaah

[sundives]

The world called us ✶ yjw.

Summary: Your relationship with Jungwon comes in hotel rooms and behind closed doors, where it's just the two of you who love each other with much tenderness. While in the outside world, the two of you are destined to be rivals due to your family's long-term rivalry when it comes to being the top corporation in your country. But when secrets are starting to spill, and meet-ups are getting harder to do so; you and Jungwon must face the world and prove that what you two have is real.

Sixth installment of Big reputations series.

✰ Song inspirations: Dancing with our hands tied by Taylor swift, Born to die by Lana del rey, Out of the woods by Taylor swift

✰ Word count: 19.6k

✰ Tags: CEO au, forced rivals au, secret relationships, established relationships, aged-up characters (they’re in their mid-twenties,) kinda star-crossed lovers, ceo! Yang jungwon, ceo! Reader, fluff, angst, misunderstandings, reader has some deep trust issues, they’re just so madly, deeply in love with each other, betrayal, family drama, minor violence somewhere, scandals. Mentions of kpop idols.

✰ CW: plot with porn, p in v sex, softdom! Jungwon, riding, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (lol no pls), cumming inside, praise, kinda public sex (restroom), fingering, petnames. I might miss a lot of tags lol but this is just pure filth lol idk shitty smut ig???

✰ Asul's note: we’re down to the second to the last story of the series!!! I hope you’d enjoy this one because I had a hard time writing this one. Also eyeballed everything so inaccuracies ahead, don't ask if i did research, i'm just here for the relationship with conflict trope lol. not proofread by the way.

✰ Series taglist: @kyutiepeachy @rosepetals09 @toastmenace @k1ttyjwon @kikidoul @brokenengene @tatikeu @ddeondalandan @ellyre @addictedtohobi @fancypeacepersona @heeseungsgf26 @axfyl @dollvtte @saraabbas @meloncholatte @andieekosmos @soltyshshs

-

Yang Jungwon entered the hotel lobby as if he owned the place.

He had his head held high while his posture stood proud. Everyone’s eyes were on him, every single one inside the lobby was awed by his visuals and presence but Jungwon remained unbothered. He approached the receptionist casually before giving her a smile — flirty and dimpled that the receptionist fawned immediately.

“Good afternoon Mr. Yang, the suite’s waiting for you, Mr. Kim had informed me about your last-minute booking, and I assure you that you’d get your usual room,” she said brightly before handing the keycard to Jungwon as she fluttered her eyelashes.

“Thank you so much, Ms. Ahn, it’s nice to see you here,” Jungwon said with a wink, making the woman giggle shyly.

“You’re too kind, enjoy your stay Mr. Yang,” with that, Jungwon gave her a wave one last time before going towards the elevator hall.

The man pressed the button and patiently waited for the elevator to go down. The hall wasn’t crowded compared to the lobby. There were a few people around but it was enough for Jungwon to be discreet, even clearing his throat as he brushed the stray dust on his coat. 

Suddenly, his ears caught the gentle footsteps approaching him. That’s when he felt his heart stopping and breath hitching. Jungwon glanced at his watch as if he was looking at his watch, pretending that he’s not bothered by the person who stood beside him.

“Oh, Mr. Yang, it's a pleasure to see you here,” but all his act melted the moment he heard your voice. His smile formed unknowingly as Jungwon could feel his cheeks heating up and heart racing rapidly before he turned to his left casually with a gentle smile.

As his eyes met yours, his smile became wider along with his dimples that turned deep. Too lovestruck to notice all this sudden shift. “Ms. l/n, it’s nice to see you too. Here for a meeting?” 

Your lips pursed before a small chuckle left your lips, “yes, apparently. A very important person I must say. How about you?” you lied casually as you fiddle the keycard around your hands. 

“Same here with me.” And just in time, the elevator rang and opened. Both you and Jungwon entered the elevator without a word. Then, the door closed in an instant and you pressed the highest floor button.

Jungwon didn’t say anything. He turned his head towards you who cleared her throat before looking in the opposite direction while the elevator slowly went up. The silence was tense, quiet yet suffocating. Your heart was pounding loudly as you could feel Jungwon’s eyes never leaving you. You closed your eyes, attempting to relax when you felt someone standing too close on your side.

“You’re too near, Mr. Yang,” you muttered under your breath.

“It’s just the two of us here, Ms. l/n,” a gasp escaped your lips when you felt his hands trailing on your waist until it reached the curve of your butt, giving it a squeeze and two.

“Pervert,” you mumbled before slapping his hands away, making Jungwon laugh before he leaned against the wall. 

“This elevator’s too slow,” Jungwon said, eyeing the screen where every second, the elevator’s slowly going up. 

“You’re an impatient man.”

“Of course I am,” and before you could react, Jungwon had pushed against the wall, trapping you in between his arms before he leaned on for a kiss.

You kissed him back without any thoughts, giggling against his lips like it’s the most natural thing you could do. His soft, lustrous lips tasted like peach, sweet and addictive that you couldn’t help but to bite his lower lips, receiving a groan from him who despite that, smirked at your move.

The elevator suddenly felt hotter as you two continued making out recklessly, not caring about the cameras recording your scandalous act as you two seemed to be in your own world until the ride stopped and Jungwon broke away from the kiss.

“We’re here,” he whispered before he pulled you out of the elevator. You didn’t complain anymore but instead, the smile on your lips became wider, letting your lover lead the way to his hotel room. 

As soon as the doors have locked and it’s just the two of you inside, Jungwon’s lips crashed onto yours once again — eager and hungry before he started to undress himself, without breaking the kiss.

You did the same with yours. Unbuttoning your blouse with haste, removing your ponytail and letting your hair fall down before you held onto Jungwon’s shoulders, never leaving his mouth as both clothes started to fall to the floor.

“I miss you,” Jungwon said in between, making you stop and chuckle as you stared at him fondly.

“We saw each other last week,” you pointed out before a small yelp escaped your lips when Jungwon carried you towards the huge, soft bed of the suite.

Placing you down gently, your heart was filled with anticipation as your lover crawled over you. His lips were stained with your lipstick, while his hair was all over the place as he stared at you like a predator — far from the sophisticated and well-respected Yang Jungwon, currently chief executive officer of the Eden group of companies.

That same goes to you who’s left with nothing but her undergarments, hair sprawled at the soft, cotton duvet as your eyes were only gazing on the person on top of you.

“Well, it couldn’t help when I miss you, so fucking much,” Jungwon admitted as his hands traveled at the soft plush of your stomach downwards the waistband of your stockings and panties, making him smirk.

“You’re going to ruin me, aren’t you?” you asked, almost breathless yet adrenaline rushed as you could feel Jungwon fidget with the tight cloth on your thighs.

“You know me damn well, sweetheart,” Jungwon answered teasingly before he tore your stockings using his bare hands.

A small moan escaped your lips as Jungwon started planting kisses on your exposed skin, slow and careful as his lips worshipped your thighs until he stopped in front of your cunt. He glanced at you for a second and immediately, you nodded, giving him the signal to push your panties aside and leave you bare in front of him.

The last thing you heard was a curse coming out of Jungwon’s lips before he started ruining you, making you melt under his touch as he tasted every skin and slick on your wet cunt. The room was filled with nothing but the sultry moans escaping on your lips while Jungwon continued to devour your pussy like it was his last meal on earth.

“Fuck — Jungwon,” you mewled, grabbing a fistful of his hair while Jungwon focused on your clit, sucking the bud before inserting a finger inside your cunt. The sudden sensation felt overwhelming that your back arched naturally simultaneously moaning your lover’s name out loud.

“Fuck, say my name again,” Jungwon ordered and you complied. You screamed his name loud and clear. Repeating it numerous times like a mantra, knowing damn well that the walls of the suite were thick and soundproof that only you and Jungwon could hear how he makes you writhe under his tongue.

Because only you and Jungwon could know what’s happening inside the suite. It’s only the two of you who know the bliss of your skins making contact with each other, filled with warmth, and pleasure that’s too addictive yet forbidden.

Your relationship with Jungwon has always been like this — and it should stay this way. In hotel rooms and hushed conversations. Secret, hidden, wherein it’s just the two of you and no one should know. Of course, no one should know because you two are destined to be enemies in the first place.

Call yourselves modern-day Romeo and Juliet, but your families have had a constant rivalry ever since both companies were established. Everything comes down to money, connections, and power — and most of all, pride. It became a competition turned into rivalry. It wasn’t just a friendly rivalry, it involved political movement, scandals, and even dirty schemes. This on-going dispute has been passed down by generations until it reaches you and Jungwon.

Unlike in Shakespeare's play, you and Jungwon weren’t young and stupid when you both unknowingly fell in love with each other. The love story began in a simple way — college. It always feels nostalgic to think about it. You and Jungwon were classmates in a lot of course subjects given that both of you have the same college program. 

Then, it came — getting assigned together for a project. It seemed like destiny was making a way for you two to talk to each other.

You two had your walls high at first but as time passed-by, you realised that the only son of the Yang family wasn’t a cocky bastard who has narcissistic tendencies, and Jungwon realized that the Kingsmark heiress wasn’t a spoiled brat who’s a perfectionist that it’s sickening. First impressions got out of the way and friendship bloomed from there. 

But somewhere in your friendship, something grew deeper — something forbidden yet, irresistible.  It made you scared at first, knowing that you fell for an enemy out of all the people you could love. Still, despite your fear, you couldn’t ignore it especially when it’s Jungwon who could only make you feel that way. 

That’s why you confessed. You took the risk to tell your feelings to your supposed mortal enemy and to your luck, Jungwon reciprocated your love naturally. Just like you, Jungwon, unknowingly fell for you too. He didn’t expect it nor tried to deny it. For the man, it just happened, and he couldn’t do anything about it except to accept it.

Love sparked that day and ever since then, you risk your life just to meet up with Jungwon — and so did he.

Late-night sneak-outs, wearing covers while out on a date, the hotel room meetups, and hushed conversations during public events. You didn’t hate the setup, you just got used to it, knowing that it’s impossible for you and Jungwon to be together in public.

You lost track of how long your relationship with Jungwon has been going on. All you know was that it has become a part of your routine to meet him, one way or another, and as long as Jungwon’s not giving up on you, you’re not going to give up on him either.

As cliche as it may sound, no one knows you better than Jungwon. He had memorized every inch of you, knew your deepest secrets and fears that even your family doesn’t have a single clue about. He was your secret, and yet, it never felt like just a secret.

Jungwon — you may consider him as your home too. 

Because the moment he kissed you, soft and gentle, held you careful and light like you were made of porcelain glass, you’re convinced that no one could ever care and love you like he would. 

“You’re with me?” Jungwon asked, seeing you quiet and in daze after your love making. Both naked under the sheets, the time seemed to have passed by so quickly that it’s already late at night. You’ve lost track of the amount of times you two did it, and yet, the euphoric feeling still lingered on your body.

“Just tired,” you answered and you heard Jungwon’s soft chuckle before he kissed your forehead.

“Did I tire you out?”

You chuckled at his question, “You’re a monster in bed, Yang Jungwon.”

“Couldn’t help it when it’s you who I am fucking good.” he teased back.

An exchange of laughter escaped both of you before you pulled him close to you. Jungwon hovered over you as your lips locked into each other once again, deep, senseless as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

“Again?” he whispered and that made you let out a sigh in relief.

“Again,” you answered with a smile before you pushed him down to the mattress and straddled against his lap.

“Thought I tired you out?” he teased before smacking your bare ass. You flinched at the pain and yet the impact only made your core wetter than as at the same time, you could feel Jungwon’s semi-hard cock against your cunt. 

“I thought so too,” you said breathless as you started grinding against his cock, making it hard and wet with your slick. Breathy moans started escaping your lips due to the sensation, rocking your body harder and more eager.

Jungwon watched as you lifted your hips before aligning your entrance on the fat head of his cock. Sucking your breath in, you slowly sink down, feeling your cunt getting stretched wide by just the sheer size of Jungwon’s cock. 

Sitting all the way down, you could feel your pussy full to the end. Taking deep breaths, your hands landed on Jungwon’s stomach for balance, moving your hips closely while your lover watched you shift on his lap, amused at how you didn’t hurry yourself immediately but instead, find time to adjust at his size, moving slow rolls and grinds around his cock.

“Go on baby, you’re doing good,” Jungwon said as his hands traveled on your waist, guiding you to roll around his cock. His eyes never left yours who had her head thrown back, breathy whines leaving your lips as you started moving faster. 

From your rolls and grinds, you lifted your hips and started bouncing on his cock. Finding your pace, you move more hastily and sloppily as you could hear the wet slap on your skin against Jungwon’s hips.

It urged you more to sink into him deeper, wanton moans started escaping your lips as you bounced on his cock harder. It didn’t help that your lover’s hold on you tightened, even helping you ram yourself on his cock.

“Jungwon —” you called his name again, a more eager plea as your body moved on its own. Fucking yourself on his cock continuously, you find yourself drowsy at the high of the act. It’s becoming too addictive that your body moves on its own. Your pace becomes faster, more rushed as you’re chasing after that high that comes within.

“Keep going baby — fuck! Look at you, is my cock fucking you good?” he teased and you nodded frantically. His words pushed you further, the feeling of his cock splitting your walls apart was too hard to ignore — especially when you could feel something churning inside your stomach.

Jungwon could feel your pussy tightening against the cock, that’s when his grip tightened, fingers digging on your soft skin, making you mewl in pain and yet, you didn’t stop bouncing on his cock like a whore.

“I’m gonna — c-cum —” you said, almost inaudible as your fingers made scratches around his stomach, making his pale skin red as you drowned yourself in the sensation. 

“Look at me baby, want to see you fall apart,” your glassy eyes met his sharp ones. A sultry sigh escaped your lips before you leaned downwards Jungwon for a kiss. Your hands got a hold of his face, squeezing it tightly as your lips battled against each other. Messy and wet kisses splattered around your mouth as Jungwon slides his tongue inside yours, earning a choked moan from you.

You broke out of the kiss first, focusing on your hips as your orgasm slowly built up and in a snap, your orgasm came along with pussy clamping around Jungwon. You came in silence, fingernails scratching Jungwon’s chest as your hips continued moving on its own, grinding against your lover’s hard, twitching cock.

That’s when a series of breathy groans started to leave Jungwon’s mouth. You knew that he was on the edge, hence, you started moving further, despite still being sensitive from your first orgasm, you ignored how you spasmed at every grind you made, because all you could think of was to make Jungwon come. 

“Baby —”

“You’re near right? Want to see you cum baby — hngh — you look so pretty laying down there for me,” you moaned as your nails pressed further down on his skin. Finding balance on his sturdy chest while you continued your movement.

“Ruin me baby, want to see my girl make me cum —” in a loud, guttural groan, Jungwon reaches his high, snapping his hips upwards as he releases his load inside you, filthy, thick, and hot spurts of cum fill you enough to be satisfied by it. You bite your lips at the warmth, rolling your hips slowly around him as you continue to milk your lover’s cock dry.

The room fell into silence. You find yourself weary before you remove yourself from Jungwon, laying next to him who seemed exhausted from the act.

“Are you hungry?” he asked out of nowhere. Arms wrapped around you as he pulled you close.

You shook your head as answer, eyes closed as you snuggle yourself on his chest, letting your body be dirty and sweaty for a moment as you leaned closer to Jungwon.

“I love you,” Jungwon blurted out of nowhere.

You hummed, opening your eyes to look at him. “I love you too.” you kissed him once again, and Jungwon responded without any thoughts. This time, the kiss was slow, gentle, and just an act of pure love for each other.

But your sweet moment was interrupted by a loud knock on the door — separating you two in a second. The two of you glanced at the direction before a series of knock echoed inside. That’s when Jungwon stood up and grabbed the folded robe nearby.

“It’s just probably Sunoo,” Jungwon said as he clothed himself and went towards the door. He looked at the door viewer for a second and from the tiny gap, Jungwon let out a deep chuckle before opening the door, revealing a man who seemed unpleasant with the situation.

“I need to talk to the two of you,” Sunoo started, arms crossed as he stared at his best friend who seemed to be still in a post-nut clarity. 

“Wanna join us?” Jungwon jokingly suggested but he was only met with a disgusted stare by his best friend. Sunoo walked strutted inside the suite, not caring about you who’s nude under the sheet and directly went towards the table, took the champagne bottle, opened it, and without any hesitation, drank straight from the bottle.

“Hey, that’s under my tab,” Jungwon complained but Sunoo continued drinking, almost finishing it halfway before placing it back. You only watched in amusement at their banters while you lay lazily on the bed.

“I really appreciate that you guys have become my patron here but this is getting suspicious,” Sunoo lectured. 

Contrary to the belief that no one knows about your secret relationship. There’s only one person who you and Jungwon had trusted with the secret, and that was Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s childhood friend who happens to own the hotel building that became your escape.

“We’re being discreet,” you stated, but Sunoo wasn’t convinced.

“Right, making out in the elevator is fucking discreet,” Sunoo sarcastically commented. “What I’m trying to say is, auntie’s getting suspicious, Jungwon.”

By the mention of his mother, Jungwon’s teasing smile faded. He turned serious as he stood next to Sunoo, arms crossed.

“What do you mean?”

“She’s here, looking for you,” Sunoo answered, and your eyes widened at his sentence. “She’s currently in my office, I told them you just left, but they aren’t convinced.”

“And your solution was to go here?” Jungwon raised an eyebrow.

“I told her I am meeting an important client and I don’t have time to entertain her questions since I’m too busy managing here,” Sunoo explained. “She was persistent that you were meeting someone here and I am hiding it, which is true though.”

“She wanted to marry me off, that’s why,” Jungwon shared and that was the first that you heard of that problem. Jungwon seemed to be unbothered by it but your worry started to grow.

“I know, she keeps on telling me that one, she wanted you to settle down and not, “whore around,”” Sunoo warned, emphasising the last two words. “If you two value your relationship, then you should be more discreet.”

“We’ve been doing this for years, we’ll be fine,” Jungwon assured but Sunoo wasn’t convinced.

“It’s going to be much harder now Won, especially when you two have taken over your company, the whole world’s watching the two of you.” his best friend advised.

“Thank you Sunoo, we’ll try to be more discreet,” you butted in, giving the man a nod before you gave Jungwon a quick glance and assuring smile. “I think we should lessen our meetups here in Sunoo’s hotel, I don’t want to trouble you too.”

“No, it’s fine y/n, but just be careful, friendly advice,” Sunoo advised before glancing at his watch. “I should be going now, I’ll let you know if auntie has left.”

“Thanks Sunoo,” that was the only thing Jungwon could say, not having the energy to argue with his best friend who’s only looking after him.

Sunoo had left that moment, leaving you two in silence. Jungwon let out a deep sigh as he turned around to check on you.

But you only smiled and patted the bed, gesturing for him to return who did as what you told.

“Does it scare you?” he asked, sitting next to you with his hands open.

Instead of a worried expression, you gave him a smile before intertwining your hands around his. “A little, just scared that my parents might disown me.”

“If they ever do that to you, I’ll be here, don’t worry,” Jungwon assured.

You laughed at his answer, “even if it means losing our fortune and everything?”

“Of course,” he answered without any hesitation. From there, Jungwon gave you a kiss on the temples before he made you rest your head on his shoulders. “Nothing in this world could be more valuable than your love.”

“Our love,” you corrected and your lover only laughed. 

“Of course, our love.” he said lightheartedly before kissing your head once again.

It felt right.

It always felt right with Jungwon. Even though it is behind closed doors, everything about your relationship and soft, intimate moments felt right for you. It’s just your intuition and your guts has always been right, that’s why you sweep your worries away.

The whole world might go into a shock when they’ve realized that you had fallen in love with her rival, but that’s your future self’s worry.

As of now, all you wanted was to be in the arms of the man you’ve ever loved — truly, deeply, and madly.

-

On days that you aren’t on your secret rendezvous with Jungwon, you’re stuck in your office, doing what a good CEO does when it comes to leading a decades-long top corporation that probably holds a percentage in your country’s economy. 

It wasn’t an easy thing to do at all. You were just starting and you weren’t fully handling everything at all. Your parents are still guiding you, and even though you have the title and everything, most of the company decisions still fully come in power through them.

“You’ve done a great job securing the deal with the Wei tech corp,” your father said proudly.

“It was just nothing dad, just a little convincing and gift worked, I’ve learned from the best after all,” you said with a wink and both your parents were delighted with your reply.

“Oh, my sweet baby, we knew that it was right that you’d inherit this company,” your mother said softly before giving you a hug and kiss. “You’d do better than us, I know that you’d be able to overthrow Eden group in no time.”

At the mention of the said corporation, your stomach felt sour yet your heart skipped a beat.

“Mom, that again? I thought we’re over that,” you complained. Ever since you became head of Kingsmark, that’s the only thing you’ve heard from them — they wanted you to beat Eden group.

“This isn’t over y/n, you know that,” your father sternly said. “Not until we watch them crumble and be ruined, this isn’t over.”

“That’s so childish,” you commented.

“It’s not childish y/n, that’s just how business works, and you should know this alright?” your mother advised. “You’re still young and soft sweetheart, people will take advantage of your kindness. That’s why you should be careful and be wary of those who you call friends.”

Her advice gave nothing but chills on your spine. You looked at your mother who stared at you meaningly. You don’t know what she meant but you slowly nodded, like a good daughter would.

“Of course ma, don’t worry about me,” you convinced, even faking a smile to assure them.

“Great, I heard that Ms. Nakamura will be attending Mr. Han’s project launch, you’re invited there right?” your father asked and you nodded once again.

“Make sure you’d be able to swoon Ms. Nakamura on investing in Kingsmark, they’re a bigshot company in Japan, this will be a huge deal to us. Can I trust you with this one y/n?” he instructed.

“Of course pa, I won’t let you down,” you said with a smile, yet your heart felt heavy at the thought. The immense pressure suddenly washed over you.

You watched as they left your office and the moment the door closed, you felt how your shoulder slouched before leaning against your office chair. Feeling a headache coming right through, you stood up from your seat to get a glass of water when your phone lit up. 

sheep calling.

The notification made you smile. Suddenly, your mood wasn’t that bad anymore before you. Grabbed your phone and answered the call without any thoughts.

“I don’t think it is appropriate for you to call me at this hour,” you opened as soon as the call got in line. Your tone filled with teasing that the voice behind the line laughed.

“Is it bad that I am missing you?” Jungwon asked.

“It is bad that you’re missing me during office hours, I thought we aren’t allowed to call during office hours?” you lectured sternly but Jungwon only hummed. 

“Well, it’s been what? Two weeks since we last saw each other and to be honest, this is killing me,” he explained, and you smiled softly, knowing that it also kills you that you haven’t seen Jungwon that long.

“What are you trying to imply?” you asked.

“That we should meet this Saturday,” he replied immediately — which meant that he had been planning this for a while.

“I can't, I’ll be at Mr. Han’s project launch, did you get an invitation?” 

You noticed how Jungwon became quiet for a moment before answering. “Oh that, I didn’t.”

“That’s a shame, maybe Sunday would work,” you suggested.

“Or maybe I’d pick you up there after the event,” Jungwon teased and though it sounded sweet to be picked-up by your boyfriend, you know that it’s just a scandal waiting to happen.

“You’re being brave and stupid by doing that Jungwon.”

“But you’d like it,” he insisted and your smile became wider.

“Unfortunately, I’d do.”

“I’ll surprise you then,” before you could ask what he meant, the call ended. Your heart dropped at that moment, wondering and curious about what’s up to Jungwon’s sleeve this upcoming Saturday.

-

True to his words, the next time you saw Yang Jungwon was at Mr. Han’s project launch at a reception hall in an expensive hotel outside the city.

The event was a private one. Strictly through invitations, that’s why it wasn’t that crowded when you entered the hall. You wore a vintage navy blue gown along with some sapphire set that you’ve inherited from your grandmother. People were turning heads towards you but you chose to ignore them as you focused on your target.

“Ms. Nakamura, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I am Ms. l/n —”

“From Kingsmark? It’s a shame for me to not know you, and please, call me Kazuha,” she said with a smile. Kazuha was approachable and friendly. Offering you a small chat and talk along with a glass of wine.

Your conversation with her turned almost hours long. You were with her almost the duration of the event and you’ve noticed that she was interested in your future plans and projects which was ideal since her company’s going to play a crucial part as a new supplier and investor. This might turn into a multi-million deal if you had won her heart by the end of the night. 

“I am glad you had approached me Ms. l/n or else I’d die here from boredom,” she said jokingly before taking a sip on her wine once again. “I would like to talk to you more but let me go to the restroom first.”

“Of course, do you want more wine?” you offered, and she only gave you a smile before rejecting the offer, insisting that she doesn’t want to get too drunk by the end of the night which you understood.

As Kazuha left for the restroom, you decided to kill time by approaching the nearby grazing table that made your stomach growled. Grabbing a small plate, you started to fill it up with random finger foods when you noticed someone doing the same as you.

“Mr. Yang, it’s a surprise to see you here,” you said, not batting an eye as you focused on the delicacies on the table.

“Last minute plans, turns out my secretary did receive the invitation but forgot to inform me,” he explained casually.

You hummed to his answer, eyes still on the table as you spoke. “Well, it looks like you still came prepared despite the short time.”

“I had to impress you, by the way, nice dress Ms. l/n, it suits you and your proportions,” he whispered to you while he busied himself on taking a few finger food. 

“Vintage Yves Saint-Laurent, your suit and tie seemed ravishing,” you commented back.

“Prada, custom-made for me,” he smiled. “But you know what Ms. l/n, I think your vintage yves saint-laurent would look better on the floor of my hotel room.”

“I am unconvinced," you said but a smile on your face curved because of his words.

“Oh come y/n, no one would probably know that we’d disappear,” Jungwon persuaded, tone less formal and more playful. “Just an hour.”

“And why should I come to your hotel room Mr. Yang?” you raised an eyebrow.

But he only smiled at you, gazing at your dress as he shifted it to your eyes. “Because you love me, and you’re getting the best dick of your life.”

That made you scoff. “Such vulgar words for a formal event.”

“I couldn’t be any more vulgar when it comes to you.” he then took a step closer to you. “How about we make it quick? Meet me in the restroom? Fifteen minutes?”

“Now, you’re risking more of exposing our relationship,” you insisted.

“Come on, you like the thrill, don’t you?”

“Unfortunately, I do.”

“There’s a restroom at the back of the corner hallway, I’ll wait for you for ten minutes,” Jungwon instructed, placing down the plate on the side before giving your back a small pat.

With his last words, Jungwon left you there frozen for a moment. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd and left the reception, turning to a small hallway which you assumed was the corner hallway. Your mind went blank as the hold on your plate tightened. 

This is a private event. This place is filled with people who know you and Jungwon as rivals. One may notice that you two are gone — or maybe someone might have seen you enter the same hallway Jungwon entered. You don’t even know if someone noticed your conversation earlier.

It’s a risk. That’s your first thought. It was indecent to do something vulgar at a private event and in public too. Those were things you and Jungwon would avoid but it made you wonder why Jungwon would suggest that. 

Perhaps he just misses you so much, and unfortunately, you’re a weak woman. Your heart folded immediately as you placed down the plate before checking if someone could notice you, you squeezed yourself in the crowd and found the corner hallway where no one seemed to be paying attention.

Your heart started pounding like crazy. Your conscience’s screaming at you — you should be back in the venue, convincing Ms. Nakamura to be one of the head investors of Kingsmark’s upcoming project. This is unnecessary — but it will be quick. You insisted as you took a deep breath and opened the door. Leaning against the wall was Jungwon, arms crossed with a small smirk on his face. 

“You’re here,” he said teasingly. “You really can’t resist me, don’t you —”

“Fifteen minutes Jungwon,” you told him as you entered and locked the door before facing him. “Let’s make this quick.”

He whistled low, looking at you with tease before his arms wrapped around your waist. “Let’s make it thirty.”

Jungwon kissed you hungrily, teeth clashing, tongue battling as he pushed you against the wall. The small thud sound only made him ferocious. He kissed you as if he was dying, eager for your warmth as his lips traveled downwards your jawline, until it reached your neck making you groan in pleasure, throwing your head to give him space while Jungwon continued kissing every skin his mouth could reach.

“No marks please Won, just — wanted to feel you inside me,” you whispered to him who halted to look at you.

“Of course, whatever my baby wants, she’ll get it,” he said quickly with a smile, giving you a short yet sweet kiss on the lips.

Jungwon put you down immediately before he dragged you towards the sink, turning you around and bending you against the marbled surface — that’s when your heart began to ring in anticipation.

“No prep baby?” he asked as he hoisted up your dress, creasing the expensive garment which you didn’t mind. Your mind’s melting because of what’s about to happen. It also didn’t help that Jungwon’s hands trailed on the curve of your ass giving it a light smack making you moan sharply.

“Jungwon please,” you whine, pulling your panties down on your own, revealing your bare self to him. But your lover only chuckled in response, before his hands found their way towards your entrance, making you moan loudly on his touch.

“We got to be quiet, baby, could you do that? We don’t want them to hear how much of a whore you are to your enemy, don’t we?” he whispered to you, voice deep and teasing that you could only nod feverishly as you bite your lips in order to conceal all the obscene noises that might come out of your mouth.

Despite his warning, a sharp, breathy moan escaped your lips the moment Jungwon pushed his slender finger inside you. He could feel your hot, pulsing walls clamping around his finger as your slick slathered around it. He hummed in satisfaction as he began pumping his finger in and out before inserting another one to prep you further. 

“Spread your legs wider for me baby, could you?” he asked, and although you’re shaky, you spread your legs further while he hoisted you further up to the sink, almost tiptoeing against the marbled vanity. You couldn’t do anything but to grip onto the surface while Jungwon continued scissoring your insides.

His fingers rapid, abusing your insides that made you shudder and moan helplessly. You clamped your mouth shut as your eyes turned glassy, and yet, a muffled cry escaped your lips when you felt Jungwon’s finger curl at a specific spot. You heard how he chuckled to your reaction as his finger brushed against that spot nonstop. Wanton moans started leaving your lips while the tears started to trail down your eyes.

“W-won — ah! Won, I’m c-close please,” you begged, feeling the tension inside you heating up. Everything’s becoming too sensitive as your pussy starts to clamp tight around Jungwon’s fingers.

“Please what baby?” he asked teasingly.

“Let me cum please?” you whispered

“Oh baby, you’d get to cum,” he said but in a split second, he removed his fingers and you cried at the sudden loss. 

That’s when you heard a metal clanking and from the mirror, you see how Jungwon freed his cock, already hard, aching, beading with its precum. You couldn’t help but to gulp at the sight, feeling your core heating and getting more wet at the sight.

“You’d get to cum around my cock, you’d like that?” he asked, humming lightly as he grazed the tip of his cock against your entrance. 

“Please, please, Won baby, I want it,” you begged, desperate for release, and your whiny, pitiful tone only made your lover’s dick twitch in excitement before without any warning he inserted himself inside you.

His thick girth ripped your walls open despite the prep earlier. It made you dig your nails deeper on the surface as hot tears kept on streaming down your face. The sensation left you choking while Jungwon continued to push himself inside you until he’s full-sheathed.

“Are you okay?” Jungwon asked as his hands went onto your waist. You nodded slowly before a small whimper left your lips.

“S-so full baby,” you muttered embarrassingly. “Could you move now please? I want to feel you more.”

Jungwon obliged. He pushed you down flat on the surface before his hands gripped on your waist tight. Slowly, he pulled himself out, then without any warning, gave your pussy a quick sharp thrust that made you arch your back naturally. He moved once again, precise yet sharp that slid all the way inside.

The restroom feels hotter and smaller as you and Jungwon became too lost in the obscene act you two are doing. There’s nothing you could hear other than how your skin slapped against each other, drowning the breathy groans Jungwon would release. His grip on your waist became tighter, fingers digging on your sides that you’re sure that it’ll leave a bruise on you.

And if it wasn’t enough, Jungwon’s other hand wrapped around your nape before he pulled you up to face the mirror. Revealing to you your ruined and messed-up self which only made your pussy tighter because you could see from the mirror how Jungwon would fuck you senselessly without any hesitation. 

“Look at you pretty, all ruin for me,” he said as he pushed himself deeper, the new angle only made you cry in pleasure. “Eyes on me, will you? I want to see you fall apart for me.”

Jungwon started thrusting inside you again — deeper, relentless, and aching to feel your warmth hugging his cock as every stroke and pounding made you levitate in pleasure.

Your head’s spinning and your mind’s starting to be blank. You started to blabber nonsense as your eyes rolled back in contentment. Jungwon could feel it, how you’re too knocked-out to respond and your pussy’s becoming too tight and warm for his own good that he could only bite his lips as he holds back. 

“Baby — still with me?” he groaned. “Want to cum now baby?”

“P-please,” you cried, almost a murmur. The pressure inside you was at its limit. Everything’s too overwhelming to you that the only thing that you wanted was for some release. “Won please, let me c-cum now — please, p-please…”

“Let it out baby, I got you,” he ordered.

You came in a silent mute. Breathe almost out of your lungs as your body shudders at the intensity of the high. Your nails scraped at the surface and your legs lost their strength if it wasn’t for your Jungwon who’s holding you tightly on your waist, still chasing after his own orgasm.

“Hold it in for me baby would you? Wanna come inside you,” Jungwon requested and though your body’s weak and melting from your orgasm, you let your lover use you for his own pleasure.

Jungwon focused on thrusting himself deeper on you. Your warm, wet walls clamped around his cock, as his head nudged on the spot nonstop, making his cock twitch in pleasure. The feeling became too much, making him groan uncontrollably. 

In a sudden glimpse, the coil in his stomach snapped and he came without any warning. His body shook as he thrusted one last time, burying his cock deep inside you as his hot, thick cum filled your insides, making you whimper at the feeling.

The two of you stayed at the position, catching one’s breath before Jungwon slowly pulled out. He pulled you away from the sink, strong arms protective around your waist as he observed you, seeing you still drowsy due to the high, he couldn’t help but to caress your face with worry.

“You with me?” he asked and you nodded as a response.

“Words baby, come on,” he repeated and you hummed.

“I’m okay, give me a moment please,” you said and that assured Jungwon, planting a kiss on your lips which you reciprocated immediately.

“Let’s get you clean okay? Just stay there,” he instructed. You didn’t complain further as you watched Jungwon grab a handful of tissues before wetting it. 

He wiped your body clean. All the parts that he had left his marks with. You could only hum in satisfaction as your boyfriend made you put on your panties and helped you fix your creased dress.

“You’re okay now?” he asked, rubbing your back in circles which made you relaxed and breathe better.

“Of course, thank you Won,” you answered with a smile.

“Let’s go home now?”

“I can’t Won, Kazuha’s waiting for me,” you told him.

“You mean Ms. Nakamura? Are you planning to ask them to invest in Kingsmark?” Jungwon asked.

You raised an eyebrow, “how’d you know?”

“I didn’t, just a business intuition,” he replied.

“Jungwon — can you keep it a secret?”

“Of course, but really? The Nakamuras? You’ll do better.”

“What do you mean?”

“They aren’t on the top anymore, I heard they’re on the verge of bankruptcy and have tons of loans in the bank — guess it wasn’t a surprise why Kazuha’s here, they need someone to pull them back to their feet.” Jungwon explained and you were left confused. You don’t know about that — nor did your parents. It felt impossible especially when the Nakamura’s has been one of the well-known names in Japan.

“Where did you hear that?” you asked that.

“I have resources,” he simply stated.

“Or are you just lying just to convince me to go home with you?”

“Hey, our families may be enemies, but we’re different,” Jungwon pointed, not sounding offended by your words. “I care for you enough that I don’t want you to make wrong decisions.”

You became quiet for a moment, staring at him who only had nothing but a persuading look on his face. “So you’re saying —”

“That Kazuha’s not worth it,” your lover concluded before he wrapped his arms around your waist. “But you know what’s worth it? Another round of sex.”

You weren’t able to rebut Jungwon’s words when he shut you off with a kiss, and like the fool you were, you kissed him back senselessly.

“Let’s leave?” he whispered to you, and you immediately melted, like a spell casted on you. 

“Okay,” you answered without any hesitation. Mind shutting down as all you could think of was Jungwon, Jungwon, and Jungwon.

-

Jungwon was right when he had warned you about Kazuha.

The invitation came a few days later. A simple dinner inside the Yang residence. The man felt something was wrong immediately. Private dinners meant big-time deals, investments — illegal transactions, and worse, marriage proposals.

His parents had set him up to marriage proposals many times that he had lost count how many women he had rejected, and with the mention of Nakamura Kazuha, Jungwon knew what he was facing the moment he entered the living room and was welcomed by his parents.

Jungwon played pretend. Act the act, his persona, the untouchable and intelligent Yang Jungwon who’s currently the CEO of the top corporation in South Korea. The dinner wasn’t just them and Kazuha, there were other guests too. He knew his parents’ move — this meant that he couldn’t do any brass action in front of them.

“Jungwon, meet Miss Nakamura Kazuha,” his mother introduced, smiling at the woman who seemed demure and elegant. She was beautiful, Jungwon thinks, but she’s not you, of course.

Jungwon greeted her formally with a dimpled smile. Kazuha reciprocated it casually as she accepted the man’s hand. “From Nakamura Tech, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise, Mr. Yang.” Kazuha replied, and with their exchange of greetings, Jungwon’s mother seemed satisfied, giving Kazuha a light tap on the shoulder.

“We’ll leave you two be, get to know each other too, excuse us,” the old woman left the two alone that moment, causing a dead air between them, Jungwon knows how to deal with this after his numerous proposal, that’s why he offered Kazuha some drink which the woman happily accepted.

“I must say that it’s a surprise to see you here Ms. Nakamura,” Jungwon opened up. “It’s rare for my parents to invite anyone, if you know what I mean.”

“Your parents have been in long contact with me,” Kazuha shared. “They’re offering me something, that’s why I am here.”

“My hand in marriage, I suppose,” the man concluded without a second doubt.

Kazuha chuckled at his words, “Yes, if I am being honest Mr. Yang.”

“I am afraid I have to reject the proposal Ms. Nakamura, you see, my heart belongs to someone else.”

“I know, Ms. l/n right?” Kazuha answered and Jungwon’s expression faltered.

“How did you know?” he asked, surprised.

“Your parents told me, hence the marriage proposal and merging of companies,” that’s when she let out a deep, worried sigh. “I don’t want this too but Mr. Yang, but I am desperate.”

“From what I’ve heard Miss Nakamura, you aren’t reliable in this field, I’ve learned of your incompetencies and mismanagement of your company way before you stepped foot here. I don’t want this partnership to be a charity work, so I am sorry, I couldn’t help you.” Jungwon pointed out.

But Kazuha didn’t feel offended by the man’s words. She nodded as she took a sip on her wine. “Your parents said otherwise, they were willing to help me.”

“Just to tie me down in a marriage? Bullshit, I am currently the head of Eden, so all decisions will be made by me,” Jungwon argued.

“Even so, without the marriage and merging, could you help me, please?” Kazuha asked, almost pleading and desperate and yet, Jungwon remained unfettered by her plea.

“I’ll think about Ms. Nakamura, but for now, would you please excuse me? I need to find my parents,” Kazuha only nodded, letting Jungwon, who felt sour to the idea, go.

Jungwon found his parents talking to some of their friends, his anger hadn't melted down and the itch to confront them was there. But there were other guests inside, that’s why he held it in, remained composed before approaching his parents and asking them for a talk in private.

They ended up in his father’s house office. The door closed with a suffocating tension inside. Jungwon faced his parents who were waiting, not surprised to see their son this furious.

“We are not merging companies with Nakamura tech, and the marriage isn’t going to happen,” Jungwon told his parents. “If you think that this is a way for me to stop seeing y/n, you two are wrong.”

“You are a disgrace Jungwon,” his father said angrily, pointing at his son who didn’t flinch. “I don’t care how long you’ve been seeing her, I want you to stop making any contact with her. Do you want our image to be tarnished by being linked to them?”

“Why? What’s wrong with them? They’re one of the top corporations here, they have a reputable name, and if you guys didn’t hold onto that silly little grudge of yours and just merged with them years ago, we could have total control of the economy,” Jungwon explained.

“I'd rather die than for that to happen,” his father declared. 

“Can’t wait,” Jungwon taunted and for that, his father punched him without any hesitation. Jungwon stumbled on the floor, lips bloodied and yet, he laughed mockingly at the situation. 

The older man grabbed Jungwon by the collar, lifting him up from the floor as the smile on his lips remained. “Don’t fucking laugh at me Jungwon, you may be the head of the company, but I am still your father.”

“Fuck, I don’t care about that,” Jungwon slurred before chuckle escaped his lips. “I love y/n, and not even you two could stop me.”

Filled with rage, his father threw him back on the floor. The loud thud only made Jungwon laugh louder, cursing under his breath as his father pointed at him angrily.

“Break up with her,” his father instructed. “Do it immediately if you really care about her life.”

That’s when the younger man stopped, glancing at his father as he tried to process everything. “Don’t you ever touch her.”

“She’s an enemy Jungwon, I can dispatch her whenever I like,” the older man reminded. “But you’re still my son, I’ll give you a chance. Do as I told you and I’ll leave her alone.”

With those final words, Jungwon’s father left him alone there, in pain and bruised lips, but that didn’t matter to Jungwon, and instead, he rest his head on the floor, body filled with ache and as the only thing he could think of was you.

-

A few weeks later, Jungwon asked you out on a date.

Dates are rare. Your hotel meetups weren’t dates. Dates should be romantic, sweet, and filled with surprises but your relationship wasn’t normal after all. That’s why Jungwon’s invitation left you half-anxious, and half-excited.

You don’t know what Jungwon had prepared but all you knew was that it had to be discreet and hidden. In restaurants with private rooms and trusted people, serving good food. Your heart was pounding out of your chest as you drove your way towards the address Jungwon sent you.

You left the keys to the valet and walked towards the entrance when you stopped to see two familiar figures in front of it.

“Mom, dad, what are you two doing here?” you asked as you walked towards them.

“Your mother was craving their pasta, that’s why we decided to have dinner here,” your father explained. “What about you?”

“Meeting a potential investor, hopefully, they will be here,” you lied and your parents bought it immediately.

“If that’s the case, then how about you join us? It will be helpful if we also put in our insights, right darling?” your mother said sweetly. 

“You’re right dear, you know that we’re always here at every step of your career y/n,” your father added.

You were left with no choice but to nod, accepting their request. Your parents entered the restaurant first while you trail behind, fishing out your phone to text Jungwon about the sudden emergency.

The place wasn’t full at all. It was a weekday, that’s why a few tables were occupied — that included Jungwon who sat alone at a corner table. His place was hidden, almost felt like he’s out of place but you knew that it was the best spot for you two to enjoy dinner.

“What the hell is Yang Jungwon doing here?” your mother sneered.

You raised an eyebrow, acting innocent as you looked around. “Yang Jungwon?”

“Look at him, such a narcissistic jerk,” your father commented with a scoff. “Do you know they’re eyeing on the Nakamuras to invest in their company?”

“What?” That's when you glanced at your father with surprise. You may have failed to close a deal with her but you trust your guts that Jungwon’s words were right — you just didn’t expect that they’re also running after her company too.

“Yes, that’s why he was at Mr. Han’s project launch. I heard he wasn’t invited at all, he was given last minute out of formality,” your father explained and slowly, everything’s starting to connect. Jungwon’s appearance was a last-minute invitation. You don’t know if your parents were telling the truth, but you wanted to insist that Jungwon show up because of you. 

“Right, they’re offering marriage right? How dirty! They’re so desperate that they opted to partner with foreign companies?”

Your heart dropped at the news. Marriage? Is this why Jungwon’s asking you out on a date? Was he going to call it off? Your mind suddenly went blank. Memories of you and Jungwon from the past few years started to flash in your mind. If it’s true then you’re thankful that your parents saved you from the heartbreak —

“Y/n? Is there anything you want? Are you alright?” you snapped out of your mind when your mother touched your arms. You flinched at her warmth but immediately, you gave them a quick smile before clearing your throat.

“I’ll just have the salmon please,” you said to her, whose worry washed away with your smile.

While your parents talked in their own world, you couldn’t help but to take a quick glance at Jungwon who you locked your eyes with in a second. You gave him a short, sorry smile and he nodded, understanding your situation.

Dinner started and you sat there while your parents indulged in the food and talk. You focused on your food, your mind still filled with thoughts about what your parents said about Jungwon earlier.

You looked at Jungwon, he looked like he’s having dinner alone — casual and in his own world. It looked like the situation doesn’t affect him at all, and you’re itching to know why he seemed so chill about everything.

While you’re here, sitting with your parents, overthinking about everything that involves you and him.

“Y/n, is your guest arriving?” your gaze shifted towards your parents. Heart hammering like crazy, hoping they didn’t notice how your stare towards Jungwon lingered too long.

“Oh,” you pretend to look at your phone before giving them a pitied smile. “They aren’t responding to my text at all. I don’t know if they’ll show up.”

“How irresponsible,” your mother commented. “Well, it’s a good thing that we’re here.”

“Right, thank you for accompanying me,” you only said before you took a sip on your wine. Your parents went back to their conversation, while your eyes shifted again towards your lover whose eyes were on you too.

Jungwon raised his glass, subtle and quick, and that made you smile, you tipped your glass in response, quick and short. Both of your eye contact remained as you took a sip on your glass. It assured you somehow and your thoughts that night vanished in just a glimpse.

Hours passed and you found yourself back in your house, alone and disappointed with tonight's outcome. The only thing you could do was to take a quick shower to wash off today's exhaustion, and hopefully — get some good night's sleep.

But you knew tonight wasn’t over when a text from Jungwon showed up on your phone. 

Nuggets? his text said and you knew what it was. A small smile formed on your lips unknowingly before you grabbed a large cotton jacket and left your place in your pajamas. 

You made a quick detour at a 24/7 fast food chain nearby and ordered a ten-piece chicken nuggets along with some curly fries and rootbeer float. As soon as you got your order, you drove your way out of the city in a hurry.

Somewhere uphill, at an not-so abandoned lot that’s filled with nothing but tall trees and one singular flickering streetlight, awaits Jungwon who’s sitting at the hood of his car. He was already in his sleeping clothes too. A cotton pajamas set paired with his university jacket to warm him up. 

You arrived minutes later after him. After you parked your car beside him, you turned off the machine, grabbed your food and left the car.

You approached Jungwon who only gave you a smile before pointing out his order from a different foodplace. He helped you get on top of the hood of his car and in silence, the two of you sat there and stared at the view.

The night was cold yet serene. The view didn’t add to the tranquility. The dark, secluded forest that’s probably inhabited by wild animals and wandering ghosts was your view, and yet, you never found any reason to be scared of it because this was the only place that you and Jungwon could be together.

Not in your expensive suits and dress, nor with your sophisticated words and formal personality — this is a place wherein your body and soul only yearn for each other’s presence and comfort, not for pleasure and intimacy. 

It’s just you, Jungwon, your take-out orders, and probably any stray creatures at the forest, trying to enjoy the night under the dimmed, flickering streetlight, wearing your sleeping clothes. Somehow, something about the whole setup made you two feel so normal — as if the two of you are a young couple out for a late-night date away from the city.

You took a sip on your rootbeer float first. You noticed Jungwon winced at your choice of drink but you didn’t comment on how he ordered onion rings that’s already soggy and made his breath smell like onion. Both of you found comfort on the greasy, unhealthy food as silence devoured you for the following minutes.

“My parents have discovered about us,” Jungwon opened up. “I was about to confess it to you during our date, my parents are forcing me to end it.”

“Then my parents ruined it,” you complained.

“Our parents ruined it,” he heaved, sounding annoyed than ever which made you focus on your food instead.

The silence crept in for the next few minutes. You’re already on your sixth nuggets when a thought struck you. 

“That’s it?” you asked, confused.

Jungwon looked at you, confused with your reaction. “What?”

You shrugged, “that’s all you got to say?”

“They’ve been in contact with Kazuha ever since, they were planning to marry me off to her,” Jungwon added and that’s where hunches were right.

“My parents told me that,” you told him.

“I’m not going to marry her, don't worry, she’s completely useless to me,” Jungwon assured and though a bit harsh, you chuckled as the weight in your heart faded away.

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“I know, but you know me, I won’t marry anyone unless it’s you,” Jungwon proclaimed and that made you look at him with a bitter smile because despite his assurance, something still feels off.

“Do you think it’s going to be like this forever?” you asked instead before taking a bite on your nuggets.

“I…honestly don’t know either,” Jungwon admitted, tone full of regret. “For the first time in my life, I never thought about the future.”

“We’re a bunch of cowards, don’t you think?” you laughed but Jungwon remained quiet.

You stared at him before your hand reached for his. He squeezed it lightly, trying to convince you that he’s fine but his expressions give it away.

“I don’t like to keep it like this forever,” he said, feeling ashamed that you two have to hide it from the world. It felt like it was his fault that you two couldn’t be together in public.

But you only smiled at him. “Is this the part where we have to settle with our relationship?”

“No,” Jungwon sternly replied. “I don’t want to confront that topic right now.”

“Then what are we going to do?” you asked, tone desperate.

“Let’s just eat, your nuggets’s getting cold now,” he changed the topic instead and you rolled your eyes. His hand had left yours as he grabbed his box and grabbed another piece.

“Jungwon.”

“I love you, that’s the only thing that matters right now.” he stated before taking a bite.

You only stared at him. Appalled at his words that your heart skipped a beat. It should feel reassuring but there’s a small part of you that felt that it wasn’t enough.

Yet, you don’t want to acknowledge that emptiness because it’ll just make things hard for the both of you, that’s why you could only smile bitterly at him. “I love you too Won, and I wish that there’s a universe out there where our circumstances are different.”

“It could happen in this universe, you know?” Jungwon convinced.

You chuckled in disbelief. “You think so?”

“I hope so,” he said nonchalantly and that made you laugh.

“We’re so bad at giving hope, don’t you think?”

Jungwon laughed at your answer, he nudged you quietly before glancing at your food. “Just go finish your chicken babe.”

-

That was the last time you saw him.

It’s been weeks since you last saw Yang Jungwon. Your conversation that night should’ve left you assured and confident with Jungwon.

But why did he suddenly disappear like a ghost? The last time you heard about him was that he was leaving for Japan, for some business matters. You didn’t pry further but the communication started to slip away. No more calls nor texts. All of your text was left unread that made you wonder what’s going on with him.

You decided to spend your energy on your work instead. Time felt slow as your office became busy and overwhelming. It didn’t help that there’s a sudden change of plans in the upcoming years, hence completely ruining what you have visioned for Kingsmark. Your parents advised you to not rush yourself, but their words felt as if they’re holding you back instead.

You know that they still have control of the company, but what’s your purpose if they wouldn’t trust your decisions completely? You suddenly felt useless and burned out. A lot of things shifted for the past few weeks. Resignations of employees, changes in board of directors — and even partnered companies, were slowly disappearing week by week. 

You could’ve asked your parents to leave everything to you but at the same time, you couldn’t bear to disobey your parents. That’s why you suck it up, because you think that they’re doing what’s best for you and Kingsmark.

That’s why you found yourself driving towards a restaurant for a private meeting. A potential investor, your parents told you, and with this partnership, Kingsmark will rise up to the top, beating Eden, just like what they always want too. You didn’t bother arguing with their wish and just obliged with it, hoping that this could be a stepping stone for them to get what they always wanted.

As you arrived at the restaurant, you were led to a private room where your parents were. They greeted you with a hug before leading you towards a tall man who seemed foreign.

He was handsome, face sculpted like he was a model, and his outfit seemed informal for a business meeting. But you didn’t question it as he gave you a smile. 

“Y/n, this is Mr. Nishimura Riki,” your father introduced.

“Hello,” you greeted, giving him your hand which he accepted.

“He’s your future husband,” your mother said. 

That’s when you froze, tugging away your hands from his. He seemed offended as you looked at him with disgust before looking at your parents with confusion.

“Husband?” you muttered.

“She was just shocked Mr. Nishimura, give her time to process,” your mother insisted at the man who hasn’t said any word.

“No, I’m sorry, you must be mistaken,” you laughed before shaking your head. “There will be no wedding nor any arrangement, I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

Hastily, you left the room and ran your way out of the restaurant — ignoring your parents who followed you immediately.

“Y/n! Y/n come back here!” you ignored your mother’s voice and started running faster despite wearing stilettos.

But the crooked pavement didn’t help either. You were cursing under your breath as you almost trip while walking. That’s when you gave up, standing frozen at your place as you try to sink everything that happened inside the restaurant.

“Y/n —”

“I am not marrying a stranger ma — we don’t need them! Our company’s doing great,” you stated but your mother’s face shifted into disappointment as she shook her head.

“You’re failing Kingsmark, you’re not fit to take over and lead the company,” your mother argued and that made you raise an eyebrow. 

“I am doing everything for Kingsmark but you guys always have to interfere — I couldn’t even make decisions without you guys intervening in everything,” you insisted.

“We have to,” this time, it was your father who talked. His voice was authoritative and clearly, he was mad at you. “You’re not trustworthy enough y/n, especially ever since you started seeing that Yang Jungwon.”

Your world stopped. The revelation came crashing down like a meteorite. You gaze on both your parents, trying to articulate words. 

“H-how…how did you —”

“We know from the start. We knew y/n and we let you continue your foolish affair, we were just waiting for you to wake up,” your father explained, and you couldn’t believe everything he just said.

“Wake up? What are you talking about —”

“Jungwon is still a Yang, and he will always be, do you really think he loves you? He’ll do everything to make Eden group remain at its spot.” he insisted and that made you scoff.

“Jungwon’s not like that, he’s different.” you defended.

“How sure are you? Open your eyes y/n, he’s just using you, he knows you’re weak and kind-hearted, and that selfish bastard took advantage of you.” your mother argued. 

You became quiet for a moment. You recalled everything — everything you and Jungwon had.

It should be real. What you two had. You know and your heart is telling you that everything is real. You could see the way he looks at you, how he cared, and assure you. Everything was real. It should be. 

But everything made sense all of the sudden. Ever since you took over your family’s company. Something shifted with Jungwon. All the projects and plans you unknowingly spilled on him as you cry your stress out to him — it always ends up with Eden group having the same idea. He seemed to become more attentive with you leading Kingsmark, it was as if he wanted to know all the future plans that you have.

Then came Kazuha. He knew that you were planning to have her as an investor. It doesn’t feel like a coincidence that later on, he was supposed to marry her. What if everything he said that night was just a lie? Everything seemed to align — his absence, him being in Japan — everything makes sense and yet, you don’t want to accept the reality.

Your vision started to blur as tears formed on your eyes. You looked at your parents with nothing but mere denial on your face.

“But…I love him,” you confessed to them, almost a mumble as you felt embarrassed confessing to your parents that you have loved an enemy.

“You’ll learn to love Riki someday sweetheart,” your mother insisted but you shook your head. You can’t just love someone all of the sudden. You couldn’t — all your heart yearns for is Jungwon.

“No.” you stated loud and clear. “I’m going to fix Kingsmark on my own. Without your help, without Riki’s help, I am going to do this alone from now on.”

“You have proved to us that you’re incapable of handling Kingsmark,” your father rebutted. “The contracts have been signed. We’ll be merging with their company whether you like it or not.”

“Without consulting me?” you asked, feeling betrayed than ever. “If that was the case, then you shouldn’t have made me the heiress of the company.”

“You’re being rebellious, you knew from the start that you’ll inherit the company — that damn Yang Jungwon’s corrupting you!” your father accused.

That’s when you scoff, “if that was the case then I’d be happy to be corrupted by him.”

A slap. A sharp one stinged as your mother’s hand landed on your face. You were in total daze as realization hit you. 

“Wake up y/n, this isn’t a fairytale. You’re a l/n, you belong to Kingsmark the same way Jungwon belongs to Eden. You two aren’t just made for each other,” your mother coldly stated while you remained frozen, trying to process the slap your mother just gave you.

Even with your cheeks numb, it didn’t hurt more than the fact that trying to separate you from Jungwon.

“You and Jungwon are not meant to be y/n, he’s off there getting married to someone else.” your father said.

“He rejected the proposal, he wouldn’t be marrying anyone unless it’s me and I’ll do the same,” you objected.

“How sure are you about that y/n, there’s a reason why he’s in Japan, isn’t he?”

No. No way. It was the one thing that you dreaded to become a reality — Jungwon completely betraying you.

To add fuel to the fire, your father gave you his phone and with shaky hands, you grabbed it to see pictures of Jungwon and Kazuha together.

Different photos. In hotel lobbies, coffee shops, and restaurants. In public. Out loud compared to you and your hidden affair.

They were smiling, together, in public — it was your only dream with him and yet, reality hit you harder — that your dream will forever remain a dream.

“They’re getting married y/n, so stop this madness and accept the fact that you two will never be together.” your mother said, and from there, tears started to stream down from your eyes. 

“Next week, your official engagement party will be held. Be prepared, and make sure you’ve grown acquainted with Riki, we shouldn’t disappoint him.” your father explained. “Don’t disappoint us y/n. You don’t want us to be your enemy right?”

“Or what? You’d hurt me just like what mom did?” you mocked.

“You might never see Jungwon, ever again,” your father threatened and that’s when you didn’t argue anymore, knowing how capable your parents were to get rid of a threat to them.

-

The engagement party arrived a few days later. It felt rushed, but you knew that your parents were persistent to tie you down with someone else. 

It was a private event. Held in a well-known venue that has a beautiful grassfield on display, only a few people were invited, and by tomorrow — your engagement will be announced in public.

From the outside, you could hear the crowd already. Their murmurs and gossip while your heart tightened at the idea. You were concealing your emotions, hoping to put a good show for the crowd. 

“Let’s go?” Riki asked, holding out his arm which you accepted without any thought. Over the last few days, you got to know your fiance. He was cold and guarded, it seemed like he thinks of this marriage as purely out of business only.

You entered the reception hall with your hands resting on Riki’s arms. The crowd applauded at your entrance while your smile became faker as all eyes were on you two. Despite the cheers and claps, you could hear your heart drumming loudly, screaming for you to leave, run away, and never return.

But this is your world. This is how you were born and raised, you have to accept that the life of luxury and living in an empire was all you ever taught growing up. That included marriage too, everything is a matter of business, connection, and power.

That’s why, whatever your parents had arranged with Riki, you just hoped that it was worth everything. 

Just as you thought things could go worse, your eyes gazed at the corner and that’s when your heart bursted out of your chest. Eyes turned wide as at the corner, you see him.

Jungwon, holding a glass of wine. He raised the glass with a bitter expression on his face. You weren’t able to process everything, not when Riki tugged you closer to him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, and you nodded immediately. Letting him guide you towards your parents who seemed to be pleased with the situation. Your mother hugged you tightly but you couldn’t even reciprocate her hug. You couldn’t believe that the next place you’d ever see Jungwon was in your engagement party.

Your parents invited him on purpose. They knew what they were doing, and you don't know why Jungwon entered their trap — a part of you wondered if he knew too and still went here.

As you broke out of the hug, you tried to glance at his place again but he’s not there anymore. Your eyes search for him, but it was too late when your parents pulled you to have you be introduced to some strangers.

The party started but your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t get out of Riki’s hold either. It looks like your parents have informed him about Jungwon and to keep an eye on you. You couldn’t do anything but to go along with it, faking smiles and engaging in conversation with strangers and people you barely knew.

“You seem out of your head,” Riki commented as the hour passed by.

“Just tired,” you lied, even though your mind is still searching for Jungwon.

Riki nodded at your words. “Do you want to rest?”

“I would love that,” you replied shortly.

But before you could even move, the lights turned off all of the sudden. The room was filled with gasps and screams of surprise, everyone was trying to process everything that just happened — even you.

It wasn’t until an arm grabbed you out of nowhere, you weren’t able to let out a scream when the stranger’s hand covered your mouth before dragging you out of the venue.

The drag was long. Everything was pitch black until a gentle breeze welcomed you and from the dimmed lights on the venue’s garden, you saw the person behind the commotion — that’s when it hit you.

“You’re getting married!?” Jungwon asked furiously. His grip on you loosened as he looked at you like you’ve betrayed him.

“My parents have arranged this,” you explained.

“And you agreed with it?”

“I have no choice Jungwon, it’s for Kingsmark —”

But Jungwon laughed mockingly. “Really? You’re selling your soul for your company, for fuck’s sake y/n, marriage isn’t the solution to that!”

“I have no choice, Jungwon, you’ve stolen everything!” you argued back, startling Jungwon who looked at you confused.

“What?” he breathed.

“Our partnered companies, stockholders — even our suppliers and staff, they are all leaving us and moving to Eden group,” you explained.

“You think I’m behind all of this?” he asked, appalled by your accusation.

“Because there’s no other explanation other than that! Everything happened the moment I became Kingsmark’s head and something shifted on you Jungwon.” you pointed out.

“That’s it? You think I’d do that?”

“You’re a Yang, you’ll do everything to keep your company on top,” you accused and from there, Jungwon’s expression changed. He looked at you in disbelief, shocked that you’d say those words.

“I thought we passed through that?”

“I don’t know Jungwon, I don’t know if I should trust you ever since we — ever since we dated, Kingsmark has been slowly decreasing and failing.” you explained.

“You’re going to blame that on me? Maybe you’re just incompetent that’s why it’s failing,” he rebutted. 

That was a low blow. You were surprised that those words came out of his mouth. You convinced yourself that it was just Jungwon being frank and brutal, but something about what he said felt like a dagger to your heart.

What hurts most was that he doesn’t look sorry at all, and that’s when it hits you — that maybe, your parents are right all along.

“Right, maybe it’s me who’s incompetent, that’s why I am making things right,” you agreed. “And if this marriage is the solution, I’m going to do it —”

“What the fuck!? Are you serious? Do you even know who you’re marrying? Do you even know their background or maybe, you’re that desperate to beat Eden group?” he fumed.

You nodded to his words, even if it felt bitter. “Maybe I am that desperate, because I am not going to let Kingsmark end with me.”

“Nishimura Riki from the clan of the Nishimura yakuzas? A well-known yakuza clan in Okayama who later venture to different prefectures in Japan and made their name well-known, they sell illegal stuff. Drugs, weapons, and assasination — you’re marrying a dangerous man y/n,” Jungwon explained.

“I guess my parents think that it was better for me to be married to a dangerous man rather than to you Jungwon.” you said in disbelief, even laughing at your situation.

“You’re okay with that?”

“Because they left me no choice, Jungwon,” you heaved. Deep inside you wanted to tell him. The threat, your fear of what they might do to him.

You don’t know what your parents would do if you continue your relationship with Jungwon. You don’t want to put his life in danger too, that’s why in order to keep the person you love the most safe, you have to sacrifice yourself.

“What about us then?” he asked.

“There’s no us anymore Jungwon.”

“Suddenly? It’s so easy for you to throw everything that we had,” he scoffed.

“Do we really have something Jungwon? Who knows maybe you were just a goddamn good actor that everything was just an act just to infiltrate my company.” you accused. 

“You think low of me to think that I’d do that y/n.” 

“Then what’s the reason? Why did you love me Jungwon?” you questioned as your eyes started to get wet.

“It just happened.” Jungwon answered, short and simple. “Just like yours, it just happened, and our feelings don’t lie y/n, I know you love me, you’re just scared to disappoint your parents.”

“That’s right, I have disappointed them enough, failing Kingsmark, loving their rival’s son — it’s no use Jungwon, we are just not meant to be, we’re better with somebody else,” you told him.

“What do you mean?” Jungwon asked, confused.

“You’re marrying Kazuha.”

“I am not.”

“Then why are you together in Japan!?” you shouted. 

“I was helping her with her company! In that way the marriage won’t happen! I set her up with a friend! Why do you think that I’d marry her? If that was your breaking point to agree to the marriage, then you don’t trust me enough,” Jungwon argued. 

“Maybe I do, because I don’t know if everything about us is real,” you supposed.

Jungwon stared at you for a minute. Disbelief still evident on his face. “Were those real for you? Why are you doubting us suddenly? What did your parents planted in your mind that made you hesitate and doubt our love? We’ve been together for eight years, if I want to betray you, I would’ve done it earlier.” 

“Yeah, maybe I am doubting our love because if it’s love, why do we have to keep it a secret?” you pondered.

“You know the answer to that, we simply just couldn’t.” Jungwon reminded.

“Right, that’s why I am not going to keep this any longer,” you said in defeat.

“You’re just ending things just like that? Just because of a misunderstanding? You’re just going to give us up easily?” 

“Well, would you? Are you going to give up everything for us to happen?” you rebutted.

“You know I would y/n, because I love you and you know I’d risk everything if it means we get to be together forever,” Jungwon declared and yet, you remained unfazed. You only stood there, frozen and confused.

“How about you? Are you going to do the same? But seeing that fear got you first, I don’t think you love me the same way that I love you,” he pointed out.

“That’s not true Jungwon, I love you. I love you enough that I took the risk of meeting you, being with you, and everything —”

“But it’s not enough for you to fight for us. I also need you to fight for me. We’re in this together. I need you too y/n,” Jungwon explained, tone soft yet tired as he looked at you who couldn’t do anything.

“I’m sorry Jungwon.” you cried, tears streaming down your eyes. 

“Don’t do this.” he begged once again, sounding more desperate than ever. “We made a promise y/n, we…it’s us against the world, we could —”

“We couldn’t Jungwon,” you breathed. “We, we’re just not meant to be, you know that.”

Jungwon stared at you for a good minute.

“I’m sorry, I’m tired of our situation, I couldn’t do this anymore,” you said before turning around and starting to walk away — but he caught your arms immediately, making you stop.

“You’re giving up all of a sudden? We’ve been doing this for eight goddamn years, and you’re throwing it all in just a snap? I can’t believe you.” Jungwon spoke. He wasn’t angry anymore, his tone was more of a beg, and that just hurts you even more.

“To love is to let go, Jungwon,” you said to him before removing his hold on you. “I love you so much but I just know that you’ll meet someone better, someone — who you could love outloud, and I’m not that girl.”

“If you love someone, you’d fight for them y/n,” Jungwon rebutted. “Why do you think that letting go is the best choice when you could just fight for our love? This is much better because I am with you in this situation y/n, you’re not alone.”

“I can’t fight anymore Jungwon, I am tired,” you insisted before you faced and gently gave him a kiss. “I’m sorry.” 

Jungwon was frozen by your actions. Your eyes were already red and wet from your cries. He wasn’t able to do anything but to watch you mouth your apology to him one last time before you turned around and walked away from him again.

“You think I won’t fight for our love y/n!?” Jungwon shouted, making you stop. “I’d do it in a heartbeat but I wanted to ask, can you do the same thing to me?”

Instead of answering, you started walking again, slowly away from him as the tears from your eyes continued to pour.

-

Moving on wasn’t your best forte.

Sure, you had a fair share of past relationships before Jungwon happened but the problem is, they’re not Jungwon.

They weren’t Yang Jungwon who was supposed to be your enemy. They weren’t him who you meet in secret, in your own little world, away from the crowd and the empires that were built to become your hindrance. They weren’t him who loved you only for you, not as the golden spoon-borned heiress. Just you.

Eight years. Eight fucking years and you just ended it in just one night because you weren’t Jungwon who’s not afraid to fight for love. You’re just you, someone who’s lost and knows the only right thing to do is, do what’s best.

You’re your parents’ only daughter. The sole heiress of Kingsmark. You’re destined to continue your family lineage and build a stronger foundation of Kingsmark. Arranged marriages aren’t new in your world, so you just have to accept that this is the world you grew up to.

It’s been two weeks since you and Jungwon called it off. Two weeks and your engagement with Nishimura Riki had been publicized to the world.

True to Jungwon’s words, Riki was indeed a dangerous man, but he was still powerful nonetheless. You concluded that this marriage wasn’t just for you to be separated from Jungwon, but also to gain power outside your country.

Riki was a quiet man. Cold yet you could see that he has a protective side when it comes to you. He seemed to have warmed up to you while you’ve grown accustomed to his presence, it felt like a guard dog given to you.

Despite his presence and that expensive engagement ring on your fourth finger, you couldn’t find yourself moving on from your relationship with Jungwon. Not when it was abrupt, sudden — without any closure at all. You just left Jungwon there, wondering what went wrong.

You didn’t even try calling him or sending him any message. No amount of apologies and sorry could make up for the damage you have done to him. You have hurt him too much that you’re ashamed to face him. That’s why the only thing that you could do was hope for the best for him.

Then came the sudden news. You were in your office when you heard it.

Eden group of companies under fire for alleged embezzlement of 800 billion won.

Suddenly, your ears turned deaf and everything felt mute as Jungwon’s face was plastered on the television. You couldn’t make up the words the anchor was saying but your heart was screaming Jungwon.

Jungwon.

Is Jungwon okay?

What the hell is this? Is Jungwon involved in this?

You snapped out of your thoughts and hastily, your shaky hands grabbed your phone and dialed Jungwon’s phone — only for the number to be unregistered.

You tried once, twice — numerous times before you gave up. A curse and two escaped your lips before you scrolled through every contact you have with Jungwon but none. It’s as if Jungwon blocked you or disappeared.

You sat there clutching your phone tightly while your heart tightened even more. Everything hurts. Jungwon, you don’t know what’s going on with him right now and you badly wanted to know how he is.

But the guilt crept more to you as you recalled your last moments with Jungwon, remembering how you walked away from him. You wanted to curse yourself for giving up on him. Just when he needed you the most, you walked away from him.

Your trail of thoughts disappeared when your parents entered your office. They seem in a good mood, so you try to brush the news as you close your phone and try to plaster a smile.

“Dear, did you see the news?” your mother asked sweetly that it halted on to you.

Your heart hammered louder. They looked as if they’re anticipating your reaction, while you looked at them with eyes wide.

“Is this about Jungwon?” you asked them back.

“This is what we’re talking about,” your mother said softly, but to you, it felt mocking.

“I don’t understand,” you only said.

“Their truth is now exposed, thank goodness because they deserve what’s about to happen to them,” your father stated and from how they reacted, something felt off.

“You guys did that?” you asked, appalled.

“We did it for you,” your mother explained, and that’s when the truth hit you. “To show you how dirty Yang Jungwon is.”

You shook your head, “no, he’s not — he won’t do something like that. You set him up.”

“We didn’t, they just don’t know how to clean up their own mess.” your father answered.

That’s when you exploded, standing up with rage as you looked at them. “Why do you have to do that!? Was it enough for you to marry me off to Riki!? You told me you won’t do anything to Jungwon.”

“This is just a pure business kid,” your father answered and that made you stop. “You’d understand it someday.”

“I’ll never understand because you never ever tried to look at me as someone who’s capable of doing things on my own.” you mocked. “I had enough of this, I am tired of you controlling me, and I won’t let you control my life anymore.”

You stood up from your seat, grabbed your things and left your office, ignoring your parent’s shouts as your mind turned blank and spiralled. You were overwhelmed. Every emotion — anger, guilt, and anxiety mixed with your brain but you decided to just do what your heart is telling you to do.

You got into your car and drove towards the only person who knew about Jungwon. Giving your car keys to the valet, you immediately entered the lobby, and to your luck — he was there.

“Sunoo, I need to talk to Jungwon,” you stated the moment you approached the man.

But Sunoo only stared. He looked surprised to see you here, filled with desperation and yet, he didn’t budge. The man looked like he was thinking whether to tell you or not, which meant that Sunoo knows something. 

“He’s not here y/n,” Sunoo answered. “They’re investigating Eden group right now, and since he’s the head, he’s probably either hiding, or complying with the investigation. He’s in deep trouble right now.”

“I know, that’s why I need to talk to him.” you repeated.

Sunoo shrugged casually, “I don’t know about his whereabouts y/n. Jungwon disappeared.”

Your forehead creased to his answer. “Disappeared?”

The man nodded, “disappeared. He left. Vanished without any trace — I don’t know. I couldn’t reach him or anything.”

“He wouldn’t — I — I need to help him,” you said. “My parents — they’re behind this, and I need to help —”

“Breathe y/n, calm down please,” Sunoo said softly, holding your cold, sweaty hands as he helped you with your breathing. You couldn’t help but to worry further, especially when the only trail you have towards Jungwon doesn’t have a single clue about his presence.

“Sunoo, I need to help him,” you muttered and the man only nodded.

“If there’s someone who knows Jungwon the best between us, that’s you y/n,” Sunoo advised. “So calm down, and just let Jungwon do this. He knows how to handle this case.”

-

You were losing hope.

The scandal was all over the news for the past following days. It haunted you. You wondered about Jungwon’s whereabouts. You looked everywhere for him but nothing. 

He’s gone. 

Just gone in a glimpse, and you thought you couldn’t do anything about it anymore — not until your phone rang late at night and a message appeared to you. All your worries faded.

Nuggets?

That one word. That damn one word was all you needed to get your hopes high.

Jungwon’s alive, and he’s asking you to meet him. He’s alive — and he wanted to see you. The thought repeated in your mind numerous times before it sinked into you. The text made you hopeful. Your heart was filled with determination as you grabbed your phone, car keys, and jacket, and left your flat.

Driving towards that spot. You could feel your heart’s about to burst out of your chest anytime. You were nervous, scared of how to confront Jungwon but there’s a small hope in you that tries to ease you. It’s just Jungwon. He won’t do anything bad to you. 

You already noticed his car when you arrived at the empty lot. Parking your car and turning off the engine, you suddenly froze, seemingly scared to go out.

But there he was standing near his car. Hair messy and longer than usual, while his eyes looked tired, filled with dark circles underneath. It looks like the case took a toll on him but he spared his time to meet up.

He needs you. Your heart told you. There's no time for you to be scared, that’s why you got out of the car but stopped in front. Waiting for him to make a move.

Jungwon didn’t say anything and instead, he opened his arms wide — like he was asking for your hug and that was it.

You broke down.

You ran towards him who managed to catch you smoothly. His hug was tight and safe. Life suddenly felt safe and comforting to you as that familiar scent from your lover hit your nose.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him. “I didn’t mean — for everything, I’m sorry —”

Your words were cut off when Jungwon crashed his lips against yours. Hungry, eager, and missing you like crazy. His hands that gripped your face were too tight but you couldn't do anything but to groan against his lips as you kissed him back with much intensity.

The kiss went for another minute and two until Jungwon broke out first, catching his breath as his stare on you lingered.

“It’s okay, I know you don’t mean it,” Jungwon said.

“I’m sorry Jungwon, I was just — just so scared of everything,” you apologized as your stare on him never left. “My parents — they, they told me that they’ll do something to you. That’s why I agreed.”

“We’ll talk about it for another day, but right now, I need you.” he replied and that made you look at him.

“Is it about your case?”

He nodded. “Your parents exposed it to the media,”

“They did, they confessed it to me,” you confirmed.

“Great, I owe them for that because my parents were planning on pining everything on me,” Jungwon stated and your ears rang at the confession.

“What? Why?”

“Because of us,” Jungwon answered, his thumb brushing onto your cheeks softly. “It wasn’t enough that I called it off, they wanted me to suffer.”

“Jungwon, what do you want me to do?” you asked.

“Testify with me.”

“For the case?”

“It’s about time that we tell everyone about us,” Jungwon decided. “But I need you to be there with me.”

“Can we do that? We’re talking about our parents, they could do more damage to us,” you asked, still filled with fear.

“We’re in this together y/n, we’ll get through this,” he assured.

But you weren’t able to say anything when you heard screeches of wheels driving towards your spot. You two separated from each other as both heads turned towards the direction of the sound.

Your eyes widened as you saw a familiar black maserati. Stopping in front of you, the door opened, and Riki went out of the vehicle, looking furious and mad.

“Jungwon —” Jungwon immediately pulled you behind him, shielding you from Riki who seemed to have every intention of taking you back.

Things went too fast for your sight. The next thing you knew, Riki landed a punch on Jungwon, making the man stumble upon the ground with a bloodied nose.

“Jungwon!” you shouted and screamed in terror as Riki pulled you away from Jungwon, you struggled against him as the tall man carried you away on his shoulders. 

You screamed Jungwon’s name as you tried to escape your way out of Riki’s grip, but all of your struggles were useless when he placed you down on the passenger seat before he moved towards the driver’s seat.

“Where’s your phone?” Riki asked as he started to pat down your clothes, you pushed Riki away but he was stronger, finally finding your phone and stealing it away from you.

“You didn’t have to do that!” you shouted at Riki.

“You listen to me,” the man ordered, cold and authoritative as he grabbed you by your face, facing him who had nothing but a predatory gaze that sent chills down your spine.

“You and I are getting married whether you like it or not. Your parents owe me billions, if you don’t compromise, it’ll be the end of them, do you understand?” he warned. 

“Billions?” you asked.

“How the fuck do you think your parents’ found the Yang’s dirt?” Riki shared and the revelation made your stomach churned.

“Are you serious?”

“Your parents made a deal with me, they knew what they’re doing,” Riki explained before he released his hold on you. “Unfortunate to you, you’re the product sold to me. So if you really love your parents, you shut the fuck up and don’t you ever meet up with Yang Jungwon ever again.”

“Is that a threat?” you asked, appalled.

“It’ll be if you disobey me once again,” he warned and that made you shut up.

“You’re lucky that it’s your parents’ life that’s at risk,” he glanced at Jungwon’s direction, a smirk becoming evident to his lips. “Or else, it’ll be his life.”

“Don’t you ever touch Jungwon,” you scowled at him but the man remained unfazed.

“If you want to keep him alive, you do everything I say,” he repeated once again and you were left with no choice. You watched as Riki turned off your phone and placed it in his jacket’s pocket. With nothing else you could do, you sinked into your chair as your cry started to become louder, wondering why everyone seemed so against you and Jungwon’s love.

-

The veil’s crown felt heavy on your head.

Your hair, filled with numerous extensions was tied into a bun, white flowers adorned around the bun along with a crown wherein your veil was extended.

You were glowing, all ethereal in your wedding gown and yet, the sorrow expression in your face couldn’t be erased. This was supposed to be a wonderful day for you, but this felt like a tragedy instead — knowing that the person who’s meeting you at the altar, wasn’t the one you love.

You watched in the mirror’s reflection how the stylist fixed your makeup with much precision. Your makeup was simple, and clean, keeping a pure image that complements your immaculate white wedding gown. While getting yourself prepared, your mind was spiraling, wondering about Jungwon’s whereabouts. You lost contact with him, and it didn’t help that Riki was guarding you 24/7.

You could only hope that he’s fine and that the case would be dissolved. You couldn’t meet him anymore, especially when there’s a threat waiting for him.

That’s why you had given up. Your loved ones are in danger and you don’t want to do any reckless acts anymore. If this wedding could give you a peace of mind that everyone you love will be safe, you’re willing to go on with it — even if it means marrying the man who has been nothing but a threat to you.

A knock on the door startled you. Turning around, you saw that it was just one of Riki’s men, informing you that the wedding car had arrived. You nodded to his words while you let the stylist do some last minute touch-ups before going. Eventually, she helped you get out of the hotel room, downwards the elevator, and enter the car.

With the door closing, the car drove away from the hotel. As you watch the hotel disappear in front of you, followed by the car entering the lane along with the hundred cars on the road, that’s when it sinked into you how sad and lonely your wedding day is.

The drive was smooth. It was quiet yet cold that you couldn’t help but to spiral. You missed Jungwon and his dimpled smile. You wished that it was him who’s at the altar, not some freaking yakuza.

That’s when you felt the tears forming on your eyelids and it didn’t help that you started to sob incoherently. You couldn’t even wipe the tears away due to your emotions, your cries became too much that the driver let out a deep sigh.

“All that crying will make you ugly,” you halted when you heard a familiar voice. You look up and that’s when you noticed who was driving the car.

“Sunoo!?” you shout in surprise as you see his face in the rearview mirror.

“You looked lovely bride-to-be,” he smiled. “But I am afraid that the wedding’s not going to happen”

“What?”

“Because you’re going to testify for Jungwon today. He’s holding a private conference today and he’s waiting for you.” he explained, and with that, he turned left, going in the opposite direction of the church.

Your eyes widened at his action, while Sunoo whistled happily before stepping on the gas pedal harder, almost making the car fly on the road.

“Sunoo — turn around please! I must go to the wedding,” you pleaded. “My parent’s in danger if I don't marry Riki.”

But Sunoo only scoffed, “Your parents? Your parents who're going to marry you off to a yakuza? Your parents who exposed and ruined Jungwon’s reputation?”

“Yes, my parents, now please Sunoo, I need to be at the wedding,” you begged but Sunoo remained unfazed.

“Y/n, listen, fuck your parents.” he stated and you were horrified to hear that from him.

“Don’t. Just don’t think about them. Think about yourself, are you seriously going to let yourself save your parents’ selfishness? They put Jungwon in danger, they’re the ones who forced you to marry a yakuza — y/n, you deserve more, you and Jungwon, you two deserve each other,” he lectured.

You became quiet for a moment.

“It’s time to show everyone what you’ve been hiding,” Sunoo added.

“I am scared Sunoo, what’s going to happen to me? To them?” you asked.

“If you love and trust Jungwon enough, you won’t be scared, he’ll be there for you, no matter what,” the man advised smoothly and yet, it didn’t lift the worry in your heart.

“Could I trust you with that?”

“Your parents must be a bunch of assholes for you to have trust issues,” Sunoo commented, “Whatever, just follow your heart or whatever corny shit you’ll do for love.”

The car stopped in front of a small court room. There were hundreds of reporters and photographers gathered outside as they continuously took photos of Jungwon who stood in front of them, holding a microphone pack while he had nothing but a blank expression on his face.

You stared at him, still appalled at the situation. He looked numbed and tired from everything, that your heart frailed in guilt. You remember the last time you two saw each other — he needed you to testify to him with the case.

It’s time for you two to show the world your love that you’ve been hiding for eight years.

“Go,” Sunoo said, making you look at him. The man only smiled at you as he gestured to you once again.

You hesitated for a moment before you opened the door, holding your wedding gown, you took off the veil and walked towards the crowd, stealing their attention from Jungwon who was speaking and now, went silent as he looked at you — surprised to see you here.

Jungwon always envisioned it. That someday, he’d see you walking towards him in your wedding gown, smiling at him as you carry a bouquet of your favorite flowers while he was standing at the end, heart filled with anticipation to marry the woman he had ever loved — Jungwon just didn’t expect that it’d happen earlier — and not during his wedding day.

You look beautiful of course. Breath-taking as your makeup enhanced your features and beauty. You held your head high like you were proud that you’re here, walking towards him without any hesitation — that’s when it struck him.

You’re here for him and for the whole world to know about you and him. You’re here to fight for your love for him.

“You’re here,” he whispered as you stood in front of him.

“I’m here, and I’m scared, but you’re here, so I’m less scared now,” you said to him, letting out a soft chuckle.

“Don’t worry, I won’t leave you in this one,” he said before he handed you the microphone pack.

Without any thought, you grabbed the pack from him, before you faced the crowd. Cameras started flashing, and videos were being recorded. The whole world’s about to know about you and Jungwon, so you took a deep breath and spoke.

“I am l/n y/n of Kingsmark Corp. and I am here to stand as a witness for Yang Jungwon and the allegations surrounding him.” You started, trying your best not to break your voice. 

“The embezzlement was true, I can testify it because it was my parents who exposed it to the media about Eden groups’ mishandling of funds,” you explained. “This is in order to beat Eden group and make Kingsmark Corp the top company.”

“Is there any proof that it was your parents who did this?” one reporter asked.

“They confessed it to me, verbally,” you answered. “I have a recording of the said conversation with me. I am willing to submit it as evidence upon the court’s request.”

“Mr. & Mrs. l/n paid news outlets for the articles to be published, it was accumulated that they spent five billion won just to expose Eden group,” Jungwon added. “The same five million won they borrowed from Eastnight Inc., which all of you know, has ties with the Nishimura clan.”

That’s when you stopped, looking at Jungwon whose face remained serious. 

“In exchange for Eden’s downfall, they sold their only daughter to the Nishimura clan to pay the debt off.” Jungwon’s hands reached for yours and you weren’t able to do anything as you tried to process everything that Jungwon had said.

“Where did you learn that?” one of them asked.

“I will not reveal my resources, but I have documents and files that prove that all of my statements and testaments are true.” Jungwon explained before letting out a deep sigh. “This also proves that I don’t have any involvement in any mishandling of funds of Eden group. It was my parents — they did this behind my back, forging my signature to receive funds from different partners and investors.” 

“What about the allegations that you were seen in different places most of the time, this caused suspicion from the investigators, would you like to clarify this part?” another reporter asked.

“It is true, I am always at different places — sketchy places, hidden ones, and seemingly a place to do illegal trades but the truth is, I was just meeting miss y/n,” Jungwon admitted and there it was.

Your secret’s out now. Jungwon said it without any hesitation.

“Miss y/n and I have a relationship. We’ve been seeing each other for eight years now.” Jungwon confessed as he looked at you, who only smiled at his statement. 

“But your families are rivals.”

“Hence why they wanted to destroy us, they’re punishing us only because we have loved,” you answered instead. “But we’re here now, talking in front of everyone, to prove that we’re innocent. Our love was real, and it deserves to be known and be out loud. Everything that had happened to us were just schemes by our parents upon discovering our relationship. We’ve done nothing other than to love.”

Saying those words, you felt your chest becoming lighter. All your worries, thoughts, and anxiety disappeared as your hand that held Jungwon’s tightened. He looked at you and without any words, you smiled at him — and that eased his worries too.

“With that said, I am stepping down as the chief executive officer of the Eden group of companies. This is a matter of betrayal from the people I should trust the most. From now on, I don’t want to be involved with the mentioned company.” Jungwon declared

“So do I,” you stated. “I am stepping down as the chief executive officer of Kingsmark corporation. I don’t want to be involved with the mentioned company — and if my parents are watching this, I am not sorry for loving Yang Jungwon.”

Jungwon smirked at your remark. You looked at him with a smile when suddenly, he pulled you close to you before sealing a kiss on your lips.

Cameras started flashing. All you could hear was the continuous press of buttons as Jungwon’s kiss deepened on yours. You didn’t say anything but instead, you closed your eyes before kissing him back, arms wrapped around his shoulder, out loud in public to show everyone and the world that what you two have is real. 

As you two broke off the kiss, both smiles were wide as Jungwon grabbed you by your hand and pulled you away from the scene. Reporters tried to get more of your statement but the moment you two  had entered the car, Sunoo drove away from the place.

“That was quite a scene you two did there,” Sunoo whistled, glancing at the rearview mirror where you and Jungwon were laughing like idiots on the backseat.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” Jungwon asked and you only smiled.

“Of course,” you quipped. “But what now?”

“We’ll start anew, but not here, somewhere — somewhere where we could act normal, love each other without hiding from the world.” he answered. 

“I love that,” you said with bliss.

Jungwon smiled before leaning on you for another kiss, you placed a hand on his face as you kissed him back with the same intensity. It would’ve been longer if it wasn’t for Sunoo who cleared his throat, glaring at the two of you through his rearview mirror.

“I’m still here,” he reminded, making you two separate from each other.

“You know my offer for you to join us still stands,” Jungwon teased and he watched how his best friend visibly gagged.

“Ew, no thanks.”

Your next destination was the airport. You didn’t ask any question and instead placed your trust on Jungwon. You watched as Sunoo casually stirred the wheel, going towards an unfamiliar path which you immediately noticed was a restricted area.

He rolled down his window before he fished out a thick envelope and handed it to the guard who accepted it without any thought. You didn’t pry further and instead, waited for the gates to be open for the car to go inside.

Away from the domestic flights, the car went to a farther area — a place you never thought had existed. The road seemed to be endless until you noticed a jet parked nearby and a few people standing.

Sunoo stopped the car in front of them. Jungwon opened the car and reached for his hands.

“Let’s go,” he said and you don’t know why you hesitated for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Jungwon asked, worried.

“I still feel scared,” you said with all honesty.

Jungwon cupped your cheeks, gentle as he looked at you softly. “I know, but sometimes we have to do something while scared.”

“We’re really going to be free right?” you asked him who only smiled at your simple question.

“Of course, don’t worry about us, I’ve planned everything out, I’m not going to abandon you and the life you’ve lived.” Jungwon assured

You nodded at his words before accepting his hands. He guided you towards the private jet wherein a few men greeted Jungwon with formal handshakes and greetings.

“Is everything set Taki?” Jungwon asked.

“Yeah, Yudai-san and Euijoo hyung’s flying the plane, you should probably go now or it’ll start getting suspicious,” the man, named Taki, replied.

“Good — wait, before we go,” Jungwon said before he looked at you with a smirk.

“What?” you asked.

“Sunoo, can you officiate our wedding?” he asked his best friend suddenly.

“What!?” you shrieked.

“The fuck?” Sunoo cursed as he looked at Jungwon in horror. 

“What? It’ll be a waste for your wedding gown, come on, we already have some witnesses here.” Jungwon casually stated, even pointing at the men standing nearby, who seemed entertained at the sudden ceremony.

“We don’t even have a ring.” you rebutted.

“That’s what you thought,” Jungwon chuckled as he grabbed something from his pocket — a velvet box which made your eyes widen.

“What the fuck —” you breathed. 

“Will you marry me? Right here, right now?” Jungwon asked as he immediately went onto his knees making you pull him out of the place.

“Seriously?” you exhaled as he stood up from his place, but the smile on his face never faded. Jungwon looked so determined with his request.

“I am serious, come on, everyone’s waiting for you,” Jungwon insisted but you were caught off-guard completely. You stared at him dazed, not knowing what to do especially after everything that just happened today.

“Stop being so dramatic, we’ll leave in ten minutes by the way!” someone shouted from the entrance of the jet, while the rest followed by urging you to agree, making you groan in annoyance.

“Fine, yes Jungwon, of course it’s a yes!” you shouted and Jungwon’s smile only widened.

“Great, now Sunoo, do the honor,.” Jungwon said in a hurry as Sunoo approached you two while muttering curses under his breath.

“Does he even have a license?” you asked.

“I did, I got my license in Vegas,” Sunoo bragged.

“Las fucking vegas, great, just fucking great,” you cursed under your breath, finding the situation funny and unserious.

“Come on y/n, stop being dramatic, you two are going to get married either way. Now, stand in front of me, and wait — I need to find the script — whatever, do you Yang Jungwon, take l/n y/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” Sunoo started.

With that question, Jungwon grabbed the gold band from the box and with ease, slid it on your ring finger, fitting perfectly like it was meant for you.

“I do, in every universe,” he answered, giving you a smile that made your heart feel at ease in the midst of the mess you two are involved in right now.

“Wow cool, okay, do you l/n y/n, take Yang Jungwon as your lawfully wedded husband?” Sunoo asked, looking at you who held her breath throughout.

“For better, for worse, I do,” you answered without any hesitation. You grabbed the ring and copied Jungwon’s action. Seeing the ring fit on his finger, that’s when you realized that he had planned everything all along.

The only thing you should do is trust and be with him.

“By the power vested upon me, I may now announce you husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride and go board the fucking plane,” Sunoo announced and with that, the cheers erupted from the small crowd making you two laugh at the situation.

Jungwon didn’t waste any second. He pulled you close to him and sealed the marriage with a kiss. The kiss felt different, not because you two just got ‘married’ but because it felt light and affirming after conquering every obstacle your love faced.

As you two broke it off, you couldn’t help but to cry in joy as you looked at Jungwon. He’s here with you, alive, breathing, and you two may have ruined both your family’s empire, but it didn’t matter to you anymore especially when all you could think of was your future ahead with Jungwon. 

“Let’s go?” He asked and you nodded, letting him lead you towards the staircase up to the jet. 

“All set?” Yudai asked from the cockpit.

“Yup, we’re all good here,” Jungwon said as he put on your seatbelt before his.

“Where to?” Yudai asked while Euijoo closed the door.

“Iceland,” Jungwon answered and you were confused.

“Why there?”

“For our honeymoon?” he replied like it was a matter of fact.

You laughed at his answer. “Oh my god, you’re really convinced that we got married.”

“Our rings say otherwise.” Jungwon rebutted.

“Are we serious about Iceland?” Eujioo interrupted.

“Dead serious,” Jungwon answered before glancing at you. “Don’t worry, we have a lot of time in this world to get married, for real this time.”

You hummed, looking at him with your heart swelling with anticipation. “I would very much love that Jungwon.”

A few minutes later, the jet had taken off. You watched from your window seat how Seoul slowly became smaller and smaller until the only thing you could see was the sea of clouds under the blue sky.

That’s when you felt Jungwon’s hands intertwined around yours. He gave you a smile before giving your hand — the one with a ring on it, a kiss. You didn’t say anything but your heart and soul knows that you’re flying towards the future you were dreaming for with Jungwon.

No more hiding, no more hotel room meetups, and hushed conversations — starting from today, it’ll be you, Jungwon, and the whole world who'll witness your love. 

[stllmnstr]

such selfish prayers

pairing: yang jungwon x reader

genre: royalty au (prince jungwon), friends to lovers

word count: 6.3k

warnings: blood, mild depictions of injuries, swearing, angst, Jungwon is yearningggg he's piningggg what's new

note: I’m sick and my head hurts and I hope this hits the way I want it to. I found this combing through old drafts the other day and I feel like it’s giving echoes but in a slightly different font. Prince Jungwon lovers, enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

“You know,” Jungwon drawls, and it’s as gleeful as it is gloating. You’ve always had the upper hand when it comes to stealth, and it’s always gotten on his nerves. Especially since you can never let it slide without drawing comparisons, without throwing a handful of well-timed jabs his way. 

If there’s one thing you never fail to remind Jungwon of, it’s that between the two of you, he’s the only one with any formal training. Not that it makes a difference. You’ve always been able to catch him off guard in ways he could never hope to replicate, no matter how much time he’s spent in combat lessons. 

But not this time. Tonight, finally, he’s caught you first. He’d anticipated your unannounced entrance into his bedchamber. You were smart enough to use the lesser known door, of course, the one that’s easy to miss among the twisting and turning tunnels that make up the labyrinth of palace corridors. But you’ve always been smarter than that. 

“If you wanted to sneak up on me,” Jungwon continues, a smile already stretching his lips even though he hasn’t turned around to look at you yet, “you shouldn’t have come through the gate near the dining hall.” 

He waits a moment for your grumbled response, grin widening when he imagines the flash of annoyance he’s sure must be crossing your features. 

When you fail to dignify his taunting with a response, he presses on, “I mean, come on, ____, I know you’re well aware that it’s completely visible from my window.”

Jungwon notices his own misstep a moment too late. Because it’s not like he’s been watching, or anything. Not like he’s been spending the last week with his eyes locked on the least guarded palace gate, wondering when you’ll finally grace him with your presence again. 

He’s the prince, after all. He has the crown and the inheritance and the title to prove it. He spends his days doing other things, important things, not waiting like a maiden trapped in a tower for you to come and save him from his misery.

Thankfully, the implication seems to slip your notice. Still standing behind him, you remain quiet. Jungwon doesn’t hear so much as a footstep. He imagines the way a pout is surely tugging your lips downwards, annoyed to have been finally bested at a game you’ve been winning for years now. 

You’d deny it, of course, if Jungwon were to ever call you out on it, but he already knows the image would still burn to memory. 

Pretty, pouty, ever so slightly wetted lips. So tempting, so damn distracting. Just begging to be covered by his own. 

Jungwon’s imagination will have to serve for now—he’s at least eighty percent sure he’d wind up either six feet under or severely maimed if he were ever to actually try it. Were he ever to attempt breaching the long standing barriers of personal space that have been established between the two of you. 

He’s sure that breaking them down would take more patience than he thinks he possesses, and certainly more than a kiss or five, but he can’t help but think he wouldn’t mind getting there, even if he had to take his time. 

The thought is enough to make him sigh. Shaking his head slightly, as if the action alone can clear away any unbidden thoughts, he returns his focus to you. The real you, standing behind him now, not the fantasies he pretends don’t burn into the backs of his eyelids whenever he tries to sleep. 

He can hear your breathing, and it grounds him back to the present. Labored and slightly ragged, it only makes his smile widen. Had you really put that much effort into sneaking up on him? And now, he’s thwarted you in the attempt. Oh, Jungwon already knows he’ll be gloating about this victory for ages. 

Prepared to do just that, he finally starts to turn, ready to begin making good use of the bragging rights this alone will afford him for the next fortnight. Jungwon would be lying if he said he weren’t equally restless at the thought of finally getting a good look at you. His first one in nearly three weeks. 

He can already picture it now, the way your eyes will narrow when they meet his, the way dejection will paint itself across your features at having been caught. The way you’ll bite at your bottom lip, pretending not to smile when his teasing turns ridiculous. 

But when Jungwon turns to face you, when his eyes finally land on you, separated only by the space of his bedroom, the grin falls from his lips as fast as it came. In its place is something he can only call unbridled, unadulterated horror. 

Expression slackening, a single breathless gasp falls from his lips. 

You’re bleeding. Profusely. There’s a tremble in your fingers where they wrap around your abdomen, doing little to conceal the blooms of deep, violent crimson that have begun to spread, seeping through your fingertips and clouding his vision. 

You’re still standing, but just barely. Body hunched forward, it looks like it hurts more than he could ever have the words to describe. The clench in your jaw is unmistakable, teeth gritted as the pain threatens to overwhelm you fully, bracing yourself against the tears welling in your eyes, the ones that, even now, you refuse to shed. 

Brave girl. Jungwon wants to scream. Brave, stupid girl. 

When he meets your gaze, he realizes that your fingers aren’t alone in their shaking. Your entire body is trembling, lower lip quivering as your mouth parts in a pitiful attempt at explanation. 

“I d—” is all you manage before another wave of throbbing agony steals your words. He watches, horrified, as the hand wound through the blood-soaked fabric of your tunic grips a little tighter.  

Distantly, Jungwon knows that he needs to do something. He understands that he needs to move, needs to do it now. But locked in his own inaction, time seems to have drawn to a standstill, seconds passing like a drip in a leaking faucet, moments churning onwards against his will. A sickening progression that he can do nothing but watch. 

He feels useless where he stands, frozen to the space he occupied. All of his instincts are screaming at him, to run, to find help. To do something, anything, but it’s as if his body lags behind the racing in his mind. As if the terrifying, gut-wrenching swirl of dread and fear and nausea have made him incapable of anything but bearing silent witness to the horrors unfolding a stone’s throw away from him. 

Your eyes are wide when they flicker up to meet his, still glimmering with the promise of tears. Your lips part again, breath fatally shallow if the rapid rise and fall of your chest is anything to go by. 

Jungwon can barely hear you, can hardly hear anything but the thunderous rushing in his ears, the erratic thrumming of his own heartbeat. The panic that has settled heavy in his mind and scrambled his thoughts into something useless. 

It’s hardly audible, too low, too breathy to be even considered a whisper, but when you finally manage to finish the words you tried to get out earlier, they resonate all too much like an apology. 

Eyes glassy, body broken, you tell him, “I didn’t know where else to go.”

It’s all you manage before you collapse to the floor of his bedroom in an undignified heap, crimson spilling from your side, barely a ghost of the girl he knows. 

Against the stone, blood begins to pool. Thick, dark, and entirely too quickly it seeps into the seams between the stones of his floor. 

The sight of it, of life leaving your body in a river of red, is what finally spurs him to action, what has all of his protective instincts gathering to override the shock. 

In the space of a heartbeat, Jungwon is all but collapsing at your side, knees bruising as he they hit the stone with enough force to make his teeth clench. He hardly feels it. His own pain is somewhere distant now, hidden behind the terror, the white hot fear that pools in his stomach when he looks at you. 

Jungwon does his best to guide his touch into something gentle as he maneuvers your weakened body into the cradle of his arms, wracking his brain for something, anything that will serve him now. Trying to recall every piece of medical knowledge he’s ever come across as the desperation threatens to turn his thoughts hazy instead of sharpening them. 

Head cradled in the crook of his elbow, your eyelids start to flutter as he pulls you tighter against his chest. One hand still clutched to your abdomen, you bring your other to the side of his face. 

Your touch is weak. Jungwon can hardly feel your fingertips as they skim along the side of his face, leaving streaks of red,your own spilled blood, in their wake. 

“Jungwon,” you whisper, touch lingering for a moment longer before your hand falls back to the stone beneath you. 

Tears are spilling now—his, not yours—and he watches, shuddering, as they drip onto your skin, gather in the hollow just above your collarbone. 

The breaths you draw are labored. Slow, ragged. You’re trembling again, and Jungwon can’t tell if it’s your doing or his. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as your body becomes heavier in his hold. Jungwon can’t see, can hardly think, but he vows to himself then and there that whoever did his to you will never know a single moment of anything resembling peace ever again. “I know I shouldn’t—” your words die for a moment, lost in the strangled gasp that closes around your throat. Rawer, rougher, weaker, you finally manage, "shouldn't have come here.”

It’s an apology, the first one he’s ever gotten from you, and Jungwon hates it more than anything. It’s so unlike you, so against everything he’s come to understand about you, to be worried about something as trivial as propriety. Objectively, you shouldn’t have snuck your way into his the castle and certainly not the crown prince’s bedroom any of the times before either, but that never stopped you from becoming just as regular a fixture as the curtains the line his window. 

And that’s what scares Jungwon more than anything, the way it sounds like you’re trying to make amends. The way it sounds like you’re trying to tell him goodbye. 

Scattered across the floor of his bedroom, you’re hardly coherent and he’s nothing but terrified. Jungwon feels like a stranger in his own body, as if he’s watching from above, paralyzed, as a nauseating scene unfolds beneath him, out of his reach and out of his control.

He wants to scream, wants to plead with any god that will listen, to beg them to just allow his this. To let him keep you. He already knows he’d give anything in return. 

“Shh,” he manages to whisper, voice shaking in the quiet. “You’re okay,” he assures, and he doesn’t know which of you he’s trying to convince. His words are a prayer, a bargain he’d sacrifice anything to make. “You’re going to be okay, just…” One of his hands smoothes across your forehead, pushing back the hair that’s fallen across your fluttering eyelids. “Just stay with me, alright?” His voice breaks on the last syllable. “You’re going to be just fine.”

Jungwon knows that he would rather forfeit his own life than watch you bleed out against the stones of his bedroom, watch life drain from your body sprawled across his lap, held in his. But with every strained breath he feels you heave into heavy lungs, it seems a fate already sealed, a destiny already foretold. A tragedy moments from becoming something there will be no coming back from. 

Finally, finally, his fear sharpens into something that spurs action instead of stifling it. 

Hands still shaking, vision still blurring, Jungwon releases your head to let it rest against his knee instead. With hands steadier than he thought himself capable of, Jungwon begins to tear at the sleeve of his tunic. 

Knuckles whitening around the strip of fabric, he lets muscle memory guide his movement as he forms the beginnings of a makeshift tourniquet. 

His vision is blurring, mind racing. Jungwon has never had to do this in a context that wasn’t carefully controlled, a task to check off a list. A theoretical repetition of a hypothetical situation. 

He’s never been this terrified in his life.

Distantly, somewhere in the far reaches of your consciousness, you feel a warm hand slide across your abdomen, replacing your own weakening touch. Skin against yours, there’s a sickening, slippery feeling that shouldn’t be there. Your own blood is warm, too warm as it leaves the constraints of your body.

You hear another fervent whisper, a vague sort of expletive as something around you tightens. Pain is there too, of course, but it feels far away now. Less urgent than it was before. Brow furrowing, it’s suddenly difficult to remember why it even hurt in the first place. What brought you here at all. 

Maybe if you could just open your eyes, just one last time, it would all make sense again. Your eyelids are heavy, resistant as you try to make them open. 

Looking up, it takes you a moment to recognize the man above you. Jungwon, you know. Although you’ve never seen quite so much panic on his features. It makes you want to frown, to reach up and smooth the crease between his brow with your fingertips. To push back the hair falling loose across his forehead and promise him that it will all be alright. 

But your strength is failing you, and with every shallow breath, resolve bleeds into confusion, dizziness that you can’t find your way through. 

Eyelids fluttering again, the last thing you see before the world goes dark is the moonlight reflected against the glassy tint of Jungwon’s wide-eyed gaze.

…..

There was always something different about Jungwon. Maybe it’s the blind optimism you thought you were completely robbed of long years ago. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s one of the only people even close to your age that you’ve spent a considerable amount of time with. Or maybe this is all just mindless manipulation and you’ve done nothing but fall straight into his well-laid trap. 

Whatever it may be, the truth remains that for all of your many differences, for all of the exhaustive reasons you should never have been able to get along, you’ve never quite been able to feel anything other than a distinct sort of fondness for the crown prince of your kingdom. 

Because whenever you stripped the truth down to its bones, Yang Jungwon was always just… different.

For as long as memory serves, you’ve had your fair share of run-ins with the royals and their equally well-regarded and well-to-do acquaintances. There have been enough close calls and thinly veiled threats to last a lifetime. After all, for as long as you’ve been sneaking into the palace, you’ve been getting almost caught doing it. 

It’s why you’re able to say with so much blind confidence that Jungwon is nothing like the rest of them. 

For one, kindness seems to come to him easily. He may still be more prone to following the rules and traditions he’s been raised to cling to with jewel encrusted clothing and little regard for anyone else, but he’s also genuine. He’s good where it counts. 

He’s a listener, too, and an excellent one at that. You can’t even begin to count the number of evenings you’ve passed ranting to him, explaining to him in excruciating detail all the ways in which his family regularly fails their country. And Jungwon, despite the way he was taught to crush dissent with an iron first, would just listen to you with a thoughtful furrow between his brows like he cared about what you thought. Like your words and opinions and perspective were precious to him. 

And, as it stands, you’ve practically grown up with him. All in the secrecy of shadows, of course. The king would all but keel over dead on his own throne if he ever learned the truth about the company his only son keeps. If he knew that he spent his adolescence blowing off archery and modern languages to trade ideas and frolic around with a commoner. And a girl, at that. 

The implications, the scandal of it all, would simply be too much to bear. 

Jungwon was well aware of the potential consequences of his choices, even then. One does not inherit a kingdom without a fair bit of burden, after all. He understood that his life was one that would be lived under a microscope, that even bound by blood, the blessing of his father was something that would have to be earned, not given. 

Still, every time the opportunity presented itself, he took the risk. He did his best to make his steps untraceable, of course. Made sure to cover his secret rendezvous with believable half-truths and carefully placed lies. 

But there was always a risk. Always a chance that the truth would reach prying eyes and unwanted ears. 

It was easy enough to explain on your end—you were an orphan of war with few prospects and even fewer acquaintances. You had little to lose, and you’d never had anything to call your own, nothing that could be taken from you. 

You’d also never had a real friend, and despite all of the arguably more urgent needs in your life—things like food, shelter, and safety—you were still a child. And the pang of loneliness still stung like even hunger had never quite been able to. 

There’s something almost tragic, in retrospect, of just how much you craved something as menial as human connection even as you watched the world around you fall to pieces, burn to ashes.

For Jungwon, you suppose, it was more or less the same. He may have been a product of the palace, may have spent his entire life thinking of wants and needs as synonyms, but he was a kid too. One that felt just as lost as you, even with more food and clothes and knowledge at his disposal than he could ever know what to do with. 

As it turned out, castle walls were secure and enviable and beautiful, but they were also cold. Not the same kind of cold you’d come to know. Jungwon, after all, had never faced a winter full of frostbite. 

But cold, as you learned, could mean many things. And no matter how much firewood he had at his disposal, no matter how warm and wealthy and well-fed Jungwon had been, there was always a certain chill that lingered, a mirror image of that same gut-wrenching, ever-aching loneliness you’d only ever seen in yourself. 

And perhaps you should start at the beginning, or at least somewhere close to it. 

You were eleven years old the first time you met crown prince Yang Jungwon. 

It had glittered like a brilliant idea at the time, but retrospect is rarely in agreement with the choices made by a starving child. Still, you’d been surviving on your own for long enough to be imbued with a false sense of confidence. You’d learned to be quick on your feet and inconspicuous when it counted.

The first man you’d ever struck a deal with in a dark alley, away from wandering eyes and lit torches, had commended you for that—your uncanny ability to get lost in a crowd, to take without leaving a trace.

It gave you a false sense of security. That, combined with the hunger-borne haze that clouded most of your waking thoughts, was enough to make you feel invincible the first time you breached the castle barriers. You still remember that day as if it were yesterday, down to the worn trousers and blouse with more holes than remaining stitches you’d been wearing. 

You were acting of your own volition, a foolish plan you’d hatched all on your own. You could already envision all the silver coins, all the extra rations you’d be given with the contraband goods you were about to smuggle. 

And your mission was, for the most part, a sweeping success. You’d managed to weigh down your pockets with enough jewelry from one of the lower security vaults to keep several families fed for the coming weeks. 

But at eleven, there were lessons you hadn’t yet learned. 

And the disarming allure of almost was one of them. 

Because almost was very rarely enough, especially when the established binary presented only two options: life and death. 

You were almost back to safety, to freedom. You were one damningly long corridor away from the same palace gate you’d snuck in through when the sight of another person a mere twenty feet in front of you had stopped you dead in your tracks.

“You shouldn’t be here.” It was the only thing the stranger said. Despite the obvious truth, his tone was devoid of malice. You still remember the way the shadowy figure had stepped into the torchlight, the way you realized with slow certainty that he wasn’t a soldier or a guard but a boy. 

You can still recall the way he quirked his head at you, raising an eyebrow like he was in any position to be handing out admonishments. You thought it ridiculous, even then. Even with your obvious lack of an upper hand, considering that he couldn’t have been much older than you. 

You’d never had much respect for authority to begin with, and the fact that this child felt he had the right to tell you where you were and were not supposed to be only added insult to injury. It didn’t matter if he was right. It didn’t matter that you really shouldn’t have been there.

The hunger gnawing at your bones and the rising sense of desperation had you throwing your last scraps of caution to the wind when you should have been keeping them close to the chest. 

“And what are you going to do about it?” You raised your chin in an imitation of defiance, bravery you didn’t quite feel. 

It was a challenge if Jungwon had ever heard one, but to your immense surprise, he treated it like a question. 

And by the time heavy echoes of nearby footsteps you were sure really did belong to palace guard began to reach your ears, he had found his answer. 

“Follow me.”

You didn’t trust people. Even at eleven, the world was rarely kind to you. When it was, it was only in exchange for something selfish. 

You didn’t trust strange boys in palace corridors and you certainly didn’t accept their outstretched hands when they offered them to you. 

But there was something in his eyes, even then, that made you think maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t a fight you had to endure alone. 

So, without looking back, you interlaced your fingers with his, pockets heavy with stolen gems as you ran down winding corridors hand in hand, away from the sound of fading footsteps behind you.

…..

“Now’s not a good time.” Jungwon was already shaking his head before you could fully work your way through his bedroom window. Even from the shadows, you could see the forlorn twist of his lips, the grim set of his expression. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Why he even bothers saying it at this point, you’re not sure. There’s never been a time when you should be inside the palace walls, but as it stands, it’s become something of a routine. Besides, you have reasons of your own. There’s nothing frivolous about your appearance tonight. 

“It’s important,” you try to argue as your feet land on the solid stone of his bedroom floor. 

But Jungwon won’t hear it, not tonight. “And it’s still not a good time.”

He turns away from you then, and you’re graced with the sight of his side profile, jaw clenched as his throat works around a swallow. 

He’s stressed, you realize. Worn thin. 

But some things take precedence over fragile feelings, and if anyone can set aside their personal struggle for the sake of the common good, you’re sure it’s him. 

Still, Jungwon is tight-lipped when he reiterates, “You need to leave.”

He’s never asked you to before. It catches you off guard, makes you feel suddenly unsure as you shift your weight between your feet, hesitating. You bite your tongue for a moment, watching moonlight cascade over the tense set of his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw. Your fingers twitch uselessly at your sides, imbued with the strangest urge to trace the same path as your eyes, to ghost over his skin until you feel the tension melt away beneath them. 

You release a small sigh instead. 

“You know I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” It’s true. At seventeen, you’ve known one another for six long years now. Never once have you asked anything of him that wasn’t crucial. Essential. 

You’re practically begging him at this point, but pride is nothing but collateral damage when lives are on the line. “Please, Jungwon,” you whisper. 

A fraction of the tension eases from his jaw. You consider it a small victory. 

But he’s not willing to give in yet. “How many times do I have to tell you?” Jungwon turns to face you fully, then. With candlelight casting shadows over the angular planes of his features, you realize that you may have been wrong in your previous assessment. Because the furrow in his brow and glint to his unusually sharp eyes don’t seem to be indicative of stress. Jungwon looks… angry. 

“Look,” he sighs, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, but it’s going to have to wait. I shouldn’t even be telling you this, but there’s been a fresh round of attacks along the northern border. My father’s leaving to assess the damage himself, and he’s left me in charge of hearings in the meantime, and—”

“I know about the attacks.”

“—it’s a lot of pr—What?” Jungwon stops short when your words finally register, when they break through his own rambling to reach his ears. “You…” he trails off, confusion pulling his brow downward. “How?”

“Because they’re not fucking attacks, Jungwon.” You sigh now, too, head tilting as you plead for a bit of his understanding. “I don’t know how, but the castle caught wind of one of the smuggling rings. The attacks are an excuse, a distraction.” You meet his gaze, finding no comfort in the furrow of his brow. “A cover while they hunt down the ring leader.”

Under the glow of moonlight, Jungwon pales. “I… How do you know that?”

Another sigh breaches the barrier of your lips. You already know he’s not going to like what you say next, but you don’t have enough time to waste it arguing. You suppose it’s best to just rip away the bandage as quickly as you can. A clean break. 

“Because I work for him.”

You watch as his expression shifts. Eyes widening before they narrow, lips parting. The outrage in Jungwon’s furious gaze is just as unmistakable as the betrayal. But among all his swirling emotions, you note the absence of surprise. 

“You…” His voice is low. You break eye contact then, already knowing you won’t be able to handle the accusation in his eyes. Not tonight, not for this. “You what?” Ever the prince, he’s been trained in this. In negotiation, in interrogation. His words manage to be sharp even while his fingers twitch at his sides. 

“I said I work for him.” There’s defiance when you lift your chin. You’re not a child anymore, and you won’t pay for crimes you haven’t committed. Won’t apologize for sins you don’t regret. “I’ve been smuggling goods into the kingdom across the northern border for the last two yea—”

And despite the way Jungwon has countless times proven content to let his head rest in your lap, doing nothing but listening while minutes turn to hours, he doesn’t seem to be interested in extending the same courtesy tonight. When he interrupts you, his words are ice. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, ___? Do you have any idea—”

But you won’t hear it either. Not when everything you’ve done, every law you’ve broken, has meant food on the table for families that have been forgotten and discarded by their own kingdom, by their so-called leaders who swore to protect them. 

Blame may not rest on Jungwon's broad shoulders directly, but he doesn’t understand, not in the way you do. 

“And do you have any idea what that damn trade embargo has meant for those of us who weren’t lucky enough to be born behind palace walls?” You’re angry now too, chest heaving with the force of your words. “I know diamonds may have been hard to come by for you these last few years, but some of us haven’t had food.”

And now Jungwon is the one breaking eye contact.

Coward, you think, chin rising another fraction of an inch in furious defiance. How dare he accuse you of betrayal when everything you’ve done has been for the betterment of others?

How dare he question your loyalty to the crown when that same crown has failed its own people for the thousandth time?

You’re about to tell him as much when the soft murmur of his voice rings out against the stifled silence that’s settled around you. 

“I—” There’s pain you weren’t expecting etched through the single syllable, embedded across his features, in the tight screw of his eyelids or maybe the sudden sag of his broad shoulders. It leaves you more than a little confused. 

The fight, the anger, the disappointment, you’d prepared for. But the unmistakable hurt you see displayed so clearly across Jungwon’s open gaze? You have no idea what to do with it. It has your brow drawing downward as you struggle to put the pieces together. 

Finally, after the silence extends a moment longer, he all but pleads, “I told you I’d take care of you.”

Oh. 

Oh. 

This was never about allegiance to the crown at all. He’s not concerned with your distrust of the kingdom; he’s betrayed by your lack of faith in him. It’s a dizzying realization, one that leaves you treading with no sense of direction. 

And he’s right, you suppose, all things considered. The food rations he never lets you leave his bedroom without are enough to stretch for weeks if you’re smart. If you weren’t sharing them. The near perfect fit of your latest pair of trousers isn’t a coincidence, either. It is, however, the work of a palace tailor. 

Jungwon thinks that you’re doing this for the petty cash, you realize. Thinks you’d rather risk your life on the northern border than your pride in the privacy of his bedroom. He thinks that the faith you place in him is lacking a solid foundation to rest on. He’s hurt. 

You watch as his throat contracts around a swallow, as he opens his mouth while you remain silent, still standing inches from him. “I thought I told you that you could come to me. I thought…” he closes his eyes for a moment, as if the thought alone is unbearable, “I thought you knew that.”

The silence that surrounds you extends for a moment longer. Hands falling to your sides, all of the defense drains from your body. Your eyes, your features are open when you finally bring yourself to look at him. 

“I…” The waver in your voice is unmistakable, even as you try to keep your words unaffected. “You did, I mean.” You draw a long inhale. “And I do know that.”

Jungwon’s exhale is rough, consuming. “Then why…” his words die as his long hair falls over his eyes, shaking his head slightly before bringing his eyes back to yours. 

You let him search your gaze for a moment, unmoving as he lands on the honesty he’d been so desperate to find. 

Then, you turn away once again. This time, your gaze falls on the city in the distance, just visible from his open bedroom window. The curtains around it flutter in the evening breeze. 

On the horizon, the city glows as torches replace sunlight. Bathed in the shimmer of the moon and infinite stars above, it looks almost peaceful from here. A far cry from the truth. From the pain and suffering that can be found at every turn, in every nook and cranny. 

Distance may smooth the city into something beautiful, but a view from the palace will never paint the full picture. 

So you tell him, eyes still trained on that elusive lie in the distance, "Because there are a lot of people out there that don’t have anyone to take care of them.” You’re trying to tread lightly, and it puts a tremor in your words. “I know it’s different, that you don’t always see things the same way from here.”

Behind you, Jungwon’s jaw clenches, like he wants to interrupt. Like he wants to argue. Eyes tracing your profile as you turn back halfway, he thinks better of it. Instead, he listens as you say, 

“I mean, you remember the day we met. You remember what I looked like.”

He does. It’s an image he wishes he could unburn from the backs of his eyelids of restless nights. It haunts him, how hollow, how utterly lifeless you’d been. How even at eleven, you were already so well acquainted with all the ways in which the world could fail you. 

You take a deep breath, turning all the way now. If there were ever a time for bold words, you suppose it’s now. You have his focus, his attention. You think you may even have his trust. 

Facing him fully, you hold his unblinking gaze. “That’s what they look like, Jungwon.” Your eyes are imploring, not accusing, as you beg for bits of his understanding. “The people of your father’s kingdom.” Something akin to despair flashes across his feature, gone too quickly to pinpoint. “And they need someone to take care of them, too.”

He knows it. He understands your desire to take the world you see and make it better than it found you. He admires it. More fiercely than he thinks he could ever admit. And yet…

“I just…” Jungwon knows that his family has spent far too long doing far more harm than good. He knows that it’s high time things changed. He wants to play a part in it, too. Wants to leave the world better than he found it. But it doesn’t stop him from asking, words cloaked in with the fear of losing the one good thing that’s ever truly been his, “Why does it have to be you?”

…..

That’s the problem, he thinks, as he watches the shallow rise and all of your chest where you lay against his ivory silk sheets. Then and now. It always had to be you. 

Sat up straight with the notches of his spine digging into the oak headboard behind him, Jungwon lets his eyes trace over you without restraint. 

He’s always hiding, always shying away. He’s always afraid that you’ll meet his wandering gaze and find it unworthy. That if he looks at you too long, you’ll see him for what he really is, that you’ll find all of the fear and regret that keep him tethered to tradition. 

That it will drive you away for good. That you’ll never sneak through the least guarded gate of the palace again, that he’ll never get to see you climb through his bedroom window in the dead of night again. 

But now, your eyelids are closed. They have been for hours. You’re still, uncannily so, save for the shallow rise and fall of your chest. 

Again, he finds himself reaching over, letting his fingertips press gently against the clammy skin of your throat. He needs to reassure himself, needs to remind himself in every way that he can that you’re still here. That he hasn’t lost you yet. Not tonight. The pulse that greets him is faint but steady. Even in your weakened state, the rhythm is far more even than the erratic pattern of his own. 

It shouldn’t be like this, is all he can think. You shouldn’t be here, fighting for consciousness against his sheets. Shouldn't have a near fatal wound staining what had once been the pristine sleeve of his shirt. Shouldn’t be drawing dangerously shallow breaths in the privacy of his bedroom, not like this. 

You shouldn’t be paying for the crimes of people like him. 

He feels you stir at his side, your first real movement in hours, and it spurs him into immediate action. Bending, he puts himself as close to you as he dares, something akin to hope fluttering through his chest as he watches your brow furrow. 

Slowly, your eyelids begin to flutter, until you’re looking up at his ceiling, gaze still lost somewhere in your dreams. 

After a moment, your eyes land on him. “Jungwon?” Your voice rasps with disuse, scraped raw. Your fingers twitch as if you want to reach for him. He does the work for you instead, reaching to cover your cold hands with his own, intertwining your fingers into a hold he hopes will withstand what is yet to come. 

“I’m here,” he whispers into the dark of his room. Bending further, he lowers himself all the way until he reaches you, brushing a feather light kiss against the skin of your temple. 

And this time—he vows, letting his gaze turn towards the city in the distance that he can just barely see from his open window—this time, he will be. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

[lac4ygal]

ᝰ.ᐟNUMBER ONE RULE

Freshman center Yang Jungwon arrives at Blackwood University with one goal: play hockey at the highest level he can. Then he breaks the one rule his captain ever gave him — don’t touch my sister — and falls completely in love anyway. When the secret hookups turn into something real, and the team becomes accomplices, it’s only a matter of time before Jay finds out. And when he finally does, it blows up the team, the house, and the bond twins have shared their entire lives. On top of this it’s right before the biggest game of their season. Jay and Jungwon have to fight their way back to each other — on and off the ice — before the championship, and before it costs Jungwon the brother he never expected to gain.

pairings: brothersfriend!jungwon x sister!reader

word count… 36.6k (I’m so sorry)

CONTENT WARNINGS! explicit sexual content, fingering, oral sex, penetrative sex, praise kink, multiple orgasms, LOTS of sexual tension, secret relationship, betrayal of trust, family conflict (brief), emotional distance, alcohol use, arguing, brief physical altercation (not with reader), emotional angst, angst with happy ending ┃ PLAYLIST… Delicate by Taylor Swift , Fade Into You by Mazzy Star , Somebody Else by The 1975 , u + me = <3 by Olivia Rodrigo , Beaches by beabadoobee , Back in Love by Suki Waterhouse , Love Hangover by Jennie , Take Me Home by Cailin Russo

⋆。˚ lacey speaks!! so… this somehow went from the planned 25k to 36.6k words 😭 i genuinely have no idea how that happened but i got a little too attached to these idiots. thank you so much to everyone who reads, comments, leaves little reactions, or even just opens the fic. genuinely, it means more than you know. i read every comment and they always make my day. as always, please let me know your favourite scenes, your favourite lines because i LOVE hearing them. anyway… enjoy 36.6k words of hockey, mutual pining, denial, and two people making increasingly questionable life choices. happy reading <3

“IF I THROW UP ON THE ICE, YOU HAVE TO TELL PEOPLE I HAD FOOD POISONING.”

“You’re not going to throw up.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know my body, Jungwon. You don’t know what it’s capable of.” Jungwon didn’t look up from his skate laces. He’d learned in the four days since they’d moved into the Den that Riki narrated his anxiety the way other people breathed — constantly, without much say in the matter — and that the correct response was usually no response at all. “Tie your laces.”

“I am tying my laces. I’m tying them and panicking. Multitasking.” Riki yanked the lace tight enough that the eyelets groaned, then immediately loosened it again, frowning down at his own skate like it had personally wronged him. The locker room around them was already half full — upperclassmen moving with the unhurried, proprietary ease of guys who’d done this a hundred times, freshmen moving like they were trying not to be noticed taking up space. Jungwon recognized the difference in himself too. He was sitting very still. Still felt safer than fidgeting.

“You made first line at your old club team,” Jungwon said. “Twice.”

“That’s youth hockey. This is — “ Riki gestured vaguely at the room, at the Blackwood crest stenciled above the doorway, at the rows of stalls with nameplates that weren’t theirs yet. “This is the actual NCAA. This is Park Jongseong’s team. You know what happens to freshmen who embarrass themselves in front of Park Jongseong?”

“What happens?”

“I don’t know, that’s the scary part. Nobody’s ever told me. It’s implied.”

Jungwon almost smiled. He didn’t, because smiling felt like it would let some of the pressure out of his chest that he was using, very deliberately, to keep himself focused. He’d wanted this — wanted it the specific, single-minded way he wanted most things, which was to say completely, with no real plan for what to do with himself if it didn’t happen. Three years of juniors hockey, two recruiting visits, one decision that had felt less like a choice and more like the only door that had ever made sense to walk through. And now here he was, lacing up in a locker room three thousand miles from anywhere that had ever felt like home, next to a guy who’d been his roommate for four days and already felt like the only stable thing in the building. “You’re quiet,” Riki said, which was rich, coming from him.

“I’m always quiet.”

“You’re quiet like you’re thinking too hard about something. There’s a difference.” Riki finally got both skates tied to his satisfaction and straightened up, rolling his shoulders. He’d filled out over the summer — they both had, the strength program had made sure of that — but he still moved like someone who hadn’t quite caught up to his own height yet, all elbows and momentum. “What are you thinking about?”

“Not throwing up.”

“Liar. You’ve never thrown up in your life. You’re, like, constitutionally incapable of it. It’s annoying, actually, now that I say it out loud.”

The door to the locker room swung open before Jungwon could answer, and the easy noise of the room dropped by half — not silence, just a recalibration, the particular hush that happens when the person who matters most walks in. Jungwon knew who it was before he turned his head. He’d watched enough Blackwood game tape over the summer to recognize the walk alone.

Park Jongseong didn’t look like he was trying to be intimidating. That was, Jungwon would come to understand, exactly what made him intimidating. He had a stick bag over one shoulder and a coffee in his other hand and he said “morning” to about six people on his way to his stall, easy, unbothered, like a guy who already knew exactly how good he was and had stopped needing to perform it. “That’s him,” Riki whispered, entirely unnecessarily.

“I know who it is.”

“I’m just saying. That’s him.”

Jay — Jungwon had heard it a dozen times already, never once heard anyone call him Jongseong outside of a coach’s clipboard — dropped his bag at the stall with his name already on it, the one with three years of tape residue on the nameplate, and finally let his eyes drift over the room. Cataloguing. Jungwon recognized the look because it was one he used himself, the assessment of who was solid and who was nervous and who might be a problem. His eyes landed on Jungwon and Riki for a second longer than anyone else. “You two. Yang and Nishimura?”

“Yes, captain,” Riki said, too fast.

Something flickered at the corner of Jay’s mouth — not quite a smile, the suggestion of one filed away for later use. “Heard a lot about you both this summer. Coach won’t stop talking about the center from the Japan program.” A nod at Jungwon. “We’ll see if it’s true on the ice.”

“It’s true,” Riki said, before Jungwon could decide whether to say anything at all. “He’s annoying about it. He’s, like, suspiciously good.”

“Suspiciously good freshmen are my favorite kind.” Jay’s gaze held on Jungwon another beat — not unkind, just thorough, the way you’d look at a piece of equipment you were deciding whether to trust. “Don’t let me down out there.”

“I won’t,” Jungwon said, and meant it more than he’d meant almost anything in his life. Jay moved on, already greeting someone else by name across the room, and Riki exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for the entire exchange. “Okay. Okay, that was — he seems normal. Chill, even. I was told there’d be a speech.”

“There will be,” said a voice from the next row of stalls, and a guy Jungwon recognized from the roster as Jake leaned around the partition, grinning. Sunghoon, beside him, didn’t look up from where he was meticulously taping his stick, but he was clearly listening. “The speech isn’t till tonight. Initiation.”

“What speech?”

“You’ll see.” Jake’s grin widened in a way that should have been more reassuring than it was. “It’s a Blackwood tradition. Captain gives the rookies the rules. Most of it’s normal stuff — don’t skip lifts, don’t talk to the football team unless you’re trying to start something, don’t be the reason we lose the Founders Cup.” He paused, and Jungwon had the distinct sense that the pause was load-bearing. “And then there’s the other rule.”

“What other rule?”

Sunghoon spoke without looking up. “You’ll see.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it’s funnier this way,” Jake said, and went back to his own laces, whistling something tuneless, leaving Riki staring after him with the look of a man who’d just been told there was a trapdoor somewhere in the room and no further information.

Tryouts were, in the most literal sense, just hockey. Jungwon had played enough of it in enough rinks across enough countries that the ice itself never scared him — the cold air in his lungs, the particular silence of a puck gliding before the slap of someone’s stick broke it, the geometry of a give-and-go executed clean. That part of him was calm. Had always been calm. It was the only part of him that ever fully was. What he hadn’t expected was how fast Coach Anders moved them through drills clearly designed to see who flinched. Full-ice give-and-gos at speed, odd-man rushes with no warning who was getting the puck, a three-on-two read where half the freshmen visibly hesitated at the blue line and got benched for the rest of the rep without a word of explanation.

Jungwon didn’t hesitate. He’d decided somewhere over the summer — quietly, the way he decided most things — that hesitation was the one thing he could not afford to bring to this ice, because everyone here had a reason to think a freshman center didn’t belong on the top unit, and the only argument he had against that was the one he could make with his stick.

By the third hour, he’d noticed Jay watching him specifically. Not constantly. Just at the moments that mattered — the give-and-go where Jungwon held the puck a half-second longer than the drill called for, reading the lane instead of dumping it the way the play sheet suggested, and put it through a gap that hadn’t technically been there until he made it be there. Jay didn’t say anything. He just watched, and then skated to center ice for the next rep, and Jungwon understood that the watching was its own kind of conversation.

Riki, for his part, was finding his footing the louder way — a highlight-reel one-timer in the third drill that got a few sticks tapping the ice in approval, then immediately undercut by tripping over the blue line in the very next rep and going down hard enough that the whole rink heard it. “I’m fine,” he announced to no one, from the ice, before anyone asked.

“Nobody asked,” Jake called from the bench.

“I could feel the concern radiating off this rink and I wanted to address it.”

By the time Coach blew the final whistle, Jungwon’s legs were a kind of tired that felt less like exhaustion and more like proof of something. He skated to the bench beside Riki, who collapsed onto it like his skeleton had personally given up on him, and only then let himself look toward center ice, where Jay was talking to Coach with the easy, low-voiced confidence of someone who’d be reporting the freshman roster’s worth in about four sentences. “You. Center.” Coach’s voice cut across the rink, and Jungwon’s head came up before he’d even registered being addressed. “Yang. Get over here.”

Riki nudged him so hard he nearly went face-first into the boards. “Go, go, go—” Jungwon skated over, suddenly aware of his own pulse in a way he hadn’t been for three hours of actual hockey. Coach Anders had a clipboard he wasn’t looking at and an expression Jungwon couldn’t read, and Jay stood beside him with his arms crossed, unreadable in a different, more deliberate way.

“First line,” Coach said. “Center. You’ll be playing with Jongseong on your wing.” For a second the words didn’t fully land — not because Jungwon didn’t understand them, but because some part of him had been so braced for a different sentence that this one needed a moment to be believed. First line. As a freshman. He knew, distantly, the way you know a fact rather than feel it, that this didn’t happen. Not at a program like this. Not in week one. “Thank you, Coach,” he managed.

“Don’t thank me. Earn it every single day or I’ll pull you so fast you won’t see it coming.” Anders said it without heat, like a fact of weather, and walked off toward the next conversation he had to have. Which left Jungwon standing on the ice across from Jay, alone, in the particular quiet of a rink emptying out around them. Jay studied him for a second. “You know what this means.”

“That I don’t get to be bad at this.”

“That you don’t get to be bad at this,” Jay agreed, something almost like approval moving across his face. “I don’t care that you’re a freshman. I care that you’re good, and I think you’re about to be the best center this program’s had in four years, and I need to know if I can build a line around you that doesn’t fall apart in November.” He held out a glove. “Can I?” Jungwon looked at it for half a second longer than the gesture probably warranted, and then knocked his own glove against it. “Yeah. You can.”

“Good.” Jay’s mouth did the almost-smile thing again, fuller this time. “Welcome to the Wolves, Yang. Don’t make me regret this.” He skated off toward the tunnel, and Jungwon stood there a moment longer than he needed to, letting it settle — the ice under his skates, the weight of the line Jay had just put on him, the particular feeling of being trusted by someone whose trust clearly didn’t come cheap. He thought, with the small, private satisfaction of a goal he’d set for himself and quietly hit: I want him to keep thinking that about me.

The Den (the ice hockey frat) at seven that evening was unrecognizable from the version Jungwon had toured during his recruiting visit — that one had been clean, staged, every surface wiped down for parents. This one had thirty hockey players packed into a living room that smelled like body spray and old pizza, somebody’s portable speaker playing something with too much bass, and a framed photo on the wall by the staircase that Jungwon’s eyes kept catching on without quite knowing why. Two kids, maybe ten years old, matching gap-toothed grins, one of them holding a hockey stick taller than he was and the other holding nothing, hands on her hips like she was supervising. He recognized Jay immediately even at that age — something about the set of the jaw hadn’t changed at all. He didn’t know who the girl was. Didn’t think about it past a beat of mild curiosity before Riki elbowed him in the ribs and the room’s energy shifted, everyone finding a seat or a wall to lean against, because Jay had walked to the front of the room with the specific posture of a man about to give a speech he’d given many times before.

“Alright. Rookies, eyes up. Everyone else, you’ve heard this, shut up and let me say it anyway.” A ripple of laughter from the upperclassmen, like the joke was older than Jungwon’s time at Blackwood. Jay waited it out, unbothered, then continued. “Rule one. You do not skip lifts. I don’t care what your high school strength coach told you, you skip lifts here and you will feel it in February when you’re getting run over by a sophomore from BC who didn’t.”

“Rule two.” A few guys mouthed it along with him, clearly by memory. “You do not embarrass this program. Not at parties, not on campus, not on Twitter, God help you if it’s Twitter. What you do reflects on all of us, whether you like that or not.”

“Rule three. You do not start anything with the football team. I don’t care who started it actually, I don’t care who’s right, you walk away, because Coach has had that exact conversation with their coach four times already and I am tired of being there for it.”

The room had loosened by now, a low murmur of guys who’d heard this annually finishing his sentences under their breath, Jake outright mouthing along with theatrical solemnity like he was reciting a pledge. Jay let it happen for a second, something almost fond in it, before his expression shifted — not harder, exactly, but more deliberate. He turned, and Jungwon watched him look at the framed photo on the wall, then back at the room. “And the last one.” His voice didn’t get louder. If anything it got quieter, which made the whole room quiet down to match it. “You do not touch my sister.”

A groan went up from at least eight different directions, good-natured, well-worn. “Bro, we know,” Jake called out, not unkindly. “You say this every single year.”

“And I’ll keep saying it every single year,” Jay said, “until one of you proves me wrong by not needing to hear it.”

“It’s literally tattooed into our brains at this point,” Heeseung put in from somewhere near the back. “We could say it for you.”

“Then say it with me.” A few scattered, half-joking voices did, off-rhythm, and Jay let himself almost-smile at the chaos of it before his gaze swept the room one more time and landed, with what felt to Jungwon like unmistakable precision, on the freshmen. On him. On Riki.

“I mean it,” Jay said, and there was no joke left in his voice at all. “I don’t care how funny you think it is. I don’t care if you think it’s a bit. She’s not a joke, and she’s not available, and any of you who think you’re the exception are going to find out real fast that I am not.” Nobody laughed at that part.

Jungwon nodded along with the rest of the rookies, the universal gesture of understood, no problem, why would this ever be an issue — and meant it. He filed it next to the lifts and the football team and the Twitter rule. A reasonable ask from a captain who’d clearly built his entire program on trust, and Jungwon had just shaken that man’s hand on the ice four hours ago and told him he could be trusted with it.

—

The thing nobody told Jungwon about Blackwood — not the recruiters, not the campus tour, not the glossy athletics brochure with its drone shots of the rink at sunset — was how much of actual freshman life happened in the gaps between hockey. He’d pictured it, vaguely, as practice and class and sleep, in that order, on a loop. Nobody mentioned the part where the Den ran on its own gravity, where Tuesday afternoons meant six guys sprawled across two couches watching game tape with the volume too low to actually hear, where Heeseung had apparently appointed himself the unofficial keeper of a coffee machine he guarded like a dragon, and where Jake’s primary personality trait, three days in, appeared to be finding new and increasingly elaborate ways to make Riki regret saying anything out loud, ever. “I’m just saying,” Jake said, sprawled upside down across the arm of the couch in a way that looked actively bad for his spine, “if Coach moves you to second line because you keep tripping over blue lines, that’s not bullying. That’s documentation.”

“It happened once.”

“It’s happened twice. I have a list.”

“You don’t have a list.”

“I have a mental list. Mentally, it’s very organized.” Jungwon sat at the kitchen table with his economics textbook open to a page he’d read four times without absorbing a single word of, partly because the syllabus had assigned something genuinely dense for week one, and partly because he was distracted by the particular ease of the room around him — the way nobody here had to perform anything. He’d grown up around hockey locker rooms his whole life and they were rarely this loose this early. The Den had three years of inside jokes baked into its walls already and he and Riki were still learning the language, but nobody seemed to mind teaching it to them. “You’re doing the econ reading,” Heeseung observed, dropping into the chair across from him with his own mug. “On a Wednesday. Before it’s due.”

“Is that not normal?”

“It’s very not normal. Sunghoon hasn’t opened a textbook since orientation and he has a 3.7.”

“That’s a lie I haven’t fact-checked because it’s funnier to let it stand,” came Sunghoon’s voice from the doorway, where he’d appeared with the specific quiet menace of someone who could apparently materialize without anyone noticing the approach — Jungwon was starting to learn that about him, three days in. He had a bag of equipment over one shoulder, clearly back from a gear fitting, and he dropped it by the door without much ceremony. “Captain back yet?” Heeseung asked him.

“Nope. Said he’d be back for dinner. Something about—” The front door opened before Sunghoon finished the sentence, and for a second Jungwon assumed it was Jay, the way the whole kitchen’s attention shifted toward the sound the way it had in the locker room three days ago — that same recalibration. But the voice that came through wasn’t Jay’s.

“Whoever ate my leftovers from the fridge, I want you to know I saw the container in the recycling and I am not currently choosing violence, but I reserve the right to change my mind.” Jake, upside-down on the couch arm, didn’t even look over. “That was Heeseung.”

“It was not me—”

“It was absolutely you, you had pad thai breath for an hour.” You walked into the kitchen mid-argument with the easy, unbothered air of someone who’d clearly been doing this — walking into rooms full of hockey players bickering — for years, long enough that it had stopped registering as anything except background noise. You had a tote bag over one shoulder that looked like it weighed more than it should, your hair pulled back in a way that suggested you’d come straight from somewhere academic rather than anywhere that required effort, and you dropped the bag onto the counter with the same casual proprietary ease Jay had dropped his stick bag in the locker room three days before. Like this kitchen belonged to you too. Jungwon would learn, eventually, that it basically did.

Jake was off the couch before you’d even finished setting the bag down, crossing the kitchen in three long strides to throw an arm around your shoulders and steer you half a step sideways like you were a piece of furniture he was rearranging. “There she is. The menace. The legend.”

“Get off me, you’re sweaty.”

“I showered.”

“You did not shower, I can smell the rink on you from here.” You ducked out from under his arm without much real effort, swatting at his side, but there was no real heat behind it — just the specific, well-worn ease of two people who’d clearly done this exact bit more times than either of them could count. Jungwon filed the whole exchange away without quite meaning to: the easy physical familiarity, the way Jake could throw an arm around you without either of you thinking twice about it, the way you were so plainly, completely unbothered by him. The kid-sister treatment. He understood it the second he saw it, and understood, with slightly less clarity but no less certainty, that he did not want to be filed under the same category as Jake. “Rude. I carry that smell with pride. It’s eau de championship.”

“It’s eau de you skipped the showers because Sunghoon was hogging the good one.”

“That is also true.” Jake didn’t even pretend to be offended, dropping back onto the couch with the satisfied air of a man who’d gotten exactly the interaction he wanted. “Anyway. Heeseung ate your leftovers.”

“I did not—”

“You’re new,” you said, cutting clean through Heeseung’s protest, not turning around yet, like you’d clocked Jungwon in your peripheral vision the second you walked in and simply hadn’t gotten to him yet on your list of priorities. You opened the fridge, presumably to assess the damage to whatever container had survived the day. “I — yeah.” Smooth, Jungwon thought, distantly, unimpressed with himself. “Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.”

“The freshman center Coach won’t stop talking about.” You shut the fridge, finally turning fully, and Jungwon had approximately one second to decide what to do with his face before you were looking directly at him, and the decision he landed on was: nothing. Stay still. Don’t give anything away that you haven’t earned the right to see yet. “Jongseong mentioned you.”

“He did?”

“Mentioned might be generous. He said, and I’m quoting, ‘there’s a freshman who might actually be good,’ which from him is basically a sonnet.” You said it with the specific dry affection of someone who clearly adored your brother and found him slightly ridiculous in equal measure, and something about the way you talked about him — easy, unguarded, like there was no universe where loyalty to him was even a question — made Jungwon’s read on the whole Den click a little further into place. This wasn’t just the captain’s sister stopping by. This was someone who’d grown up in these rooms the way the rest of them had grown up on the ice. He noted, too, distantly, that you’d called him Jongseong. Nobody else in this house had used that name once in three days. To everyone here he was Jay, or Captain, or — on a bad day — Jongseong said with theatrical dread before someone got benched. You said it like it was just his name. Maybe, Jungwon thought, to you, it just was.

“I’ll try to live up to the sonnet.” That got something out of you — not quite a laugh, but the version of one that exists right before it, a flicker at the corner of your mouth that you seemed to decide not to fully commit to. “You’re better off not trying. He’ll find a new thing to be insufferable about within a week.” You looked past him, toward Riki, who’d gone very quiet on the couch in a way that suggested he was taking detailed mental notes for later interrogation. “You’re the other one. Nishimura.”

“Riki. You can call me Riki. Everyone does. It’s — yeah, Riki’s fine.” Riki, Jungwon noted with some private amusement, had apparently lost several IQ points in real time.

“Riki,” you repeated, like you were filing it. “Heads up — if Jongseong catches you eating my leftovers too, he’ll actually do something about it. I’ve made peace with these guys being lost causes.” A gesture at Jake and Heeseung, who both made identical offended noises. “Freshmen still have a chance at redemption.”

“Noted,” Riki managed. You grabbed something from the cabinet — crackers, Jungwon registered without really meaning to register it, the kind in the blue box, which felt like a stupidly specific detail to be cataloguing about someone he’d known for ninety seconds — and headed for the doorway, pausing there the way people do when they’re about to leave a room but haven’t quite committed to it yet. “Anyway. Welcome to the circus.” You said it to the room generally, but your eyes caught Jungwon’s for one more half-second on the way out, not lingering, not anything, just a normal goodbye glance that any of these guys would have gotten in your place. “Try not to let them ruin you too fast.”

And then you were gone, down the hall, the sound of a door somewhere upstairs — Jay’s room, Jungwon would learn — clicking shut behind you, and the kitchen exhaled back into its normal noise like nothing had happened at all. Nothing had happened. Jungwon was aware of that with total clarity. A girl had walked into a kitchen, made a joke about leftovers, learned his name, and left. This was, by any reasonable measure, the least significant interaction he’d had all week, several orders of magnitude less significant than making first line. He looked back down at his econ textbook. Read the same paragraph a fifth time. Still didn’t absorb a word of it. “Well,” Riki said, from the couch, in a voice pitched for exactly one listener. “That’s unfortunate.”

“What is.”

“Don’t.” Riki sat up properly for the first time in twenty minutes, fixing Jungwon with the specific look of someone who had just watched something happen and intended to make sure Jungwon knew he’d watched it. “I watched your whole face do a thing just now.”

“My face didn’t do anything.”

“Your face did several things. I counted at least three things.” Riki lowered his voice further, glancing toward the doorway like the danger might still be listening. “Jungwon. Buddy. My friend. My roommate, who I have grown to care about in four short days. That’s Jongseong’s sister.”

“I know whose sister she is.”

“You know whose sister she is and your face still did the thing.”

“There was no thing.”

“Heeseung,” Riki called out, not breaking eye contact with Jungwon, “did his face do a thing just now?”

“Absolutely it did,” Heeseung said, without looking up from his coffee, with the weary tone of a man who’d apparently already seen this exact movie play out at the Den before and knew exactly how it ended. “I give it two weeks before he’s carrying her bags.”

“I’m not carrying anyone’s bags.”

“Three days,” Jake corrected, from the couch, finally rolling himself upright. “I give it three days.” Jungwon closed his textbook with more force than the moment strictly required, ignoring all three of them with the particular dignity of a man who knew, somewhere underneath the irritation, that they weren’t wrong about anything, and that the worst part — the part he had absolutely no intention of admitting to a room that would never let him hear the end of it — was that some quiet, certain part of him had already decided three days wasn’t going to be nearly long enough to talk himself out of it.

He’d shaken Jay’s hand on the ice. Told him he could be trusted. He thought about the blue crackers. The flicker at the corner of your mouth. The door clicking shut down the hall. That’s unfortunate, he thought again, and didn’t disagree with himself even once.

—

“—and then he just left. Didn’t say bye, didn’t say see you later, nothing. Just picked up his gear bag like a man fleeing a crime scene and walked out of the gym.”

“Sunoo.”

“I’m not done.”

“You’ve been not-done for four blocks.”

“Because it’s a four-block story, Y/N, I don’t control the geography.” Sunoo hopped over a crack in the sidewalk without breaking stride, somehow managing to keep his energy at a near-constant boil despite the fact that they’d left your dorm twenty minutes ago and he hadn’t paused for breath since. The two of you had shared a floor since orientation week freshman year — adjacent rooms, actually, close enough that you’d learned to recognize each other’s footsteps in the hallway — and in that time you’d discovered that Sunoo processed his entire emotional life out loud, in real time, usually at a volume better suited to indoor voices. “So I’m in the gym. Minding my business. Doing my little cooldown stretches because I’m a responsible adult who stretches—”

“You stretch for ninety seconds and call it a cooldown.”

“It’s quality over quantity. And Sunghoon’s there finishing his lift, and he’s got his shirt half off because he’s toweling down, and I make eye contact with him for one — one — completely normal, completely platonic second, and the man turns the color of a fire alarm and leaves the building.”

“Maybe he had somewhere to be.”

“Y/N. He works out at the same gym at the same time every single day. He had nowhere to be. He had somewhere to flee.”

You laughed — you couldn’t help it, you’d been laughing on and off for four blocks — and adjusted the strap of your bag, the night air doing that early-fall thing where it hadn’t decided yet whether it wanted to be warm or cold, which meant you’d both left your jackets at the dorm and were now regretting it in real time, walking faster than necessary partly to get there and partly to generate body heat. The Den was eight minutes from campus if you cut through the quad, less if you didn’t care about getting grass stains on your shoes, which tonight, you decided, you didn’t. “Maybe,” you said, “and I’m just spitballing here, he likes you, and that’s why he ran away.”

“That tracks with literally zero of his behavior.”

“It tracks with all of his behavior. You just don’t want to hear it because then you’d have to do something about it instead of getting to complain to me for four blocks.” Sunoo opened his mouth to argue, visibly reconsidered, and closed it again, which from him was basically a confession. “Okay, fine, hypothetically, if that were true, what would I even — no. Don’t answer that. I don’t want strategy tonight. Tonight I want to dance and forget Sunghoon exists for at least ninety minutes, and you’re going to help me do that.”

“Deal.”

“What’s your goal for tonight?”

“My goal,” you said, with the specific, deliberate casualness of someone who had absolutely thought about this on the walk over, “is to get laid. That’s it. That’s the whole goal. Low bar, very achievable, I’m not trying to overcomplicate my life.”

“A woman with priorities. I respect it.” Sunoo glanced sideways at you, taking in — properly, for what felt like the first time since you’d left your room — what you were actually wearing, like the conversation had only just given him a reason to look. “Okay, and might I say, dressed for the occasion.” You’d put actual thought into it, more than you’d admit to him directly: a dress that hit exactly the right amount of effortless while having taken twenty-five minutes of very much not effortless decision-making in front of your mirror, dark and fitted in the way that did the most work with the least amount of obvious trying, paired with the kind of confidence that came from knowing you looked good and choosing not to make a big deal out of it. You weren’t dressing for anyone specific. You were dressing for the version of tonight where something interesting happened, which felt like a reasonable thing to dress for on a Friday. “I clean up alright.”

“You clean up like a public health hazard, is what I’m saying, someone’s going to need medical attention.” Sunoo bumped his shoulder against yours, grinning. “Jongseong’s gonna take one look at that dress and have an aneurysm.”

“Jongseong is not going to see this dress, because Jongseong is going to be busy being captain and yelling at freshmen about beer pong etiquette, and if he does see it, I will simply lie and say I’ve been wearing a cardigan all night.”

“Bold strategy.”

“It’s worked for four years.”

You could hear the party before you could see it — bass thudding low and steady through the walls of the Den a full block out, the specific texture of a hundred-plus people’s noise blending into one continuous hum, punctuated occasionally by something sharper, a shout, a laugh, the unmistakable crash of something glass that nobody seemed to care about. The porch light was on. Somebody had strung up actual string lights along the railing at some point this week, which felt like a Heeseung touch, the kind of small unnecessary effort he’d deny making if you asked him directly.

The front door was propped open with somebody’s shoe — a genuinely upsetting choice of doorstop that you chose not to think too hard about — and you and Sunoo stepped into the wall of heat and noise that was the Den at full party capacity, the living room packed wall to wall, the kitchen counter doing actual structural duty as a makeshift bar, someone’s questionable music choices blaring from the speaker Jake had clearly hooked his phone up to because nobody else picked songs this aggressively. “Y/N! Sunoo!” Jake’s voice cut through the noise before you’d even gotten three steps in, and he appeared out of the crowd with a red cup in each hand, already holding one out toward you like he’d been anticipating your arrival. “You look — okay, wow, you look like you’re trying to put me in an early grave, what is this.”

“It’s a dress, Jake.”

“It’s a weapon, is what it is. Does Jongseong know you own this?”

“Jongseong does not get a vote on my wardrobe.”

“Jongseong would absolutely like a vote on your wardrobe, that’s the whole — “ Jake gestured vaguely, encompassing, you assumed, the entire premise of his existence as Jay’s friend and teammate. “You know what, never mind, not my fight. Drink.” He pressed the cup into your hand without further ceremony, the same easy, brotherly overfamiliarity you’d gotten from him since you were eighteen, no different than if you were one of his actual sisters. “Sunoo, you too, don’t make this weird by refusing.”

“I wasn’t going to refuse, I was going to say thank you, but go off.”

“Where is he then?” you asked, scanning the crowd out of habit more than real interest — you didn’t actually need to find Jongseong, you knew he’d find you eventually, the way he always did at these things, materializing at your elbow within the first twenty minutes like a smoke detector going off. “Tell me he’s not doing the thing where he stands by the door checking IDs like he personally runs a liquor board.”

“He was doing that an hour ago, yes,” Jake confirmed, entirely too pleased about it. “Sunghoon talked him down. Mostly. He’s somewhere being captain at people. You’ll find him or he’ll find you, you know how it goes.”

“Tragically, I do.” You took a sip of whatever was in the cup — something fruity and far too strong, exactly the kind of drink this house specialized in and refused to ever improve upon — and let Sunoo tug you further into the crowd, already scanning for Sunghoon with the specific, badly-disguised intensity of someone who’d claimed thirty seconds ago that he didn’t want to think about him at all tonight.

That was when you felt it. The look. You’d grown up around enough hockey players to have a very specific radar for being looked at — the difference between the guys who’d known you since you were twelve and treated you like furniture and literally anyone else — and this one didn’t register as either. It wasn’t loud about it. It wasn’t a guy elbowing his friend to point you out. It was just — there, steady, from somewhere across the room, and when you turned your head to actually find it, you already half-knew, with the strange certainty of a feeling you hadn’t quite earned the right to yet, exactly whose eyes you were going to find.

Jungwon was leaning against the wall near the kitchen doorway with a cup he didn’t seem especially interested in drinking, half a conversation happening beside him that he clearly wasn’t fully present for, and when your eyes landed on his, he didn’t look away first. Didn’t do the thing most guys did — caught looking, quick recovery, pretend it never happened. He just held it, calm, unhurried, like he’d already decided there was no version of tonight where pretending made sense. You looked away first. You weren’t entirely sure why. “Okay,” Sunoo said, very close to your ear, having apparently clocked the entire exchange in the two seconds it took, “that’s new.”

“What’s new.”

“You know exactly what’s new. Freshman center, eleven o’clock, doing the eye thing.”

“There’s no eye thing.”

“There is extensive eye thing, I watched it happen, I have a front row seat to eye things, it’s basically my major.” Sunoo’s grin was doing something genuinely unholy now. “Go talk to him.”

“I came here to find a hookup, not start a whole — situation.”

“Maybe the hookup is the situation. Have you considered that the universe is just handing you a gift and you’re standing here arguing with the delivery guy.” You didn’t answer that, mostly because you didn’t have a good one ready, and let yourself get pulled deeper into the party instead — toward the dancing, toward whatever Heeseung and a sophomore defenseman were arguing about near the speaker, toward the specific chaos of a Friday at the Den that you’d witnessed probably two hundred times across four years and never once gotten tired of. You were aware, the entire time, of exactly where in the room he was standing.

“Absolutely not.” Jungwon said.

“Jungwon. Buddy. Best friend. Light of my life.” Riki had a hand wrapped around his wrist and was hauling him bodily toward the makeshift beer pong table set up at the end of the kitchen counter, where a sophomore defenseman Jungwon vaguely recognized from tape was loudly defending his table’s undefeated record to anyone who’d listen. “You cannot stand against this wall for the entire night doing your broody freshman thing. People will start asking questions.”

“I’m not doing a broody freshman thing.”

“You are doing the broodiest possible version of a freshman thing, you’ve had the same face on for forty minutes.” Riki deposited him at the end of the table with the satisfaction of a man completing a difficult task. “Play. Socialize. Be a person.” He played. He was, infuriatingly, good at beer pong too — some part of his brain that processed angles and trajectories for a living refused to turn off just because the stakes had dropped to a plastic cup — which meant by the fourth round he’d had more to drink than he’d planned on, that loose, warm, slightly-too-honest feeling starting to settle in behind his eyes, the kind where his usual careful filter on his own face got a little less reliable.

Which was, in retrospect, bad timing for the exact moment he looked up and found you across the room, talking to some guy he didn’t recognize — not a hockey player, built wrong for it, probably someone’s friend from another house — who’d planted himself directly in your space with the specific posture of a guy who thought he was being charming. You had your arms crossed, half-smiling in a way Jungwon was already learning to read as entertained, not interested, but the guy didn’t seem to be picking up on the distinction, leaning in another inch, saying something that made you roll your eyes.

Something hot and entirely unreasonable moved through Jungwon’s chest. He had no claim to that reaction. He knew that, even loose and warm and three cups in, some clear-eyed part of him filing the feeling under not yours to have even as it refused to go away. “Oh, this is good,” Riki said, following his line of sight, delighted. “Your face is doing the thing again. The thing’s back.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not even mad, I just want to document it for later—”

“Sink it or pass the ball, Nishimura.”

Across the room, Jay had clocked the same conversation about four seconds before Jungwon had, and unlike Jungwon, Jay had absolutely zero hesitation about what to do with that information. He crossed the room with the unbothered, unhurried walk of a man who knew exactly how much weight his presence carried in this house, and inserted himself into the conversation with a hand clapped flat on the guy’s shoulder. “Hey, man. You go to Whitfield?” Jay’s voice was friendly. Jungwon, even from a distance, did not trust it for a single second.

“Uh — yeah, I’m here with—”

“Cool, cool. Hey, quick question, completely unrelated.” Jay’s hand was still on the guy’s shoulder, steering him a polite half-step back from you, the whole motion smooth enough to look almost accidental. “You know whose house this is?”

“…Yours?”

“Mine. And that’s my sister. So I’m gonna need you to go find your friends now, and I’m gonna need you to do it real fast, and we’re gonna both pretend this was a totally normal interaction. Sound good?” The guy looked between Jay and you for one confused second, visibly recalibrated his entire night, and excused himself with considerably less charm than he’d arrived with. “Jongseong.” You said it with the specific, long-suffering exhaustion of someone who’d watched this exact scene play out roughly forty times. “I was handling it.”

“You were handling it. I helped it get handled faster.”

“I didn’t need help.”

“Noted, for the record, and ignored, also for the record.” Jay dropped a kiss on the top of your head, entirely brotherly, entirely unbothered by your glare, and was gone again within seconds, already absorbed back into some conversation near the door, leaving you standing there with your arms still crossed, visibly debating whether being annoyed was worth the energy.

Jungwon watched the whole thing happen from the beer pong table with what he hoped looked like idle interest and definitely was not. He set his cup down. Told himself, with the particular conviction of a guy three drinks deep, that he was simply going to go say hello. Nothing more than that. A normal, low-stakes hello, the kind any teammate’s family member deserved. He was lying to himself and he knew it the entire walk across the room. “Your brother’s very committed to his bit,” he said, by way of greeting, and you turned, and something in your face shifted — not surprise exactly, more like you’d half-expected this, had maybe been tracking the same distance between you that he had.

“He’s been doing that since I was sixteen. I used to think it’d get old. It has not gotten old.” You studied him for a second, something assessing in it. “You’re not as drunk as Riki, but you’re not sober either.”

“Accurate.”

“Confident, though. Most freshmen don’t walk over here unprompted.” A small, deliberate pause. “Most freshmen don’t walk over here at all, actually. Jongseong’s speech tends to be memorable.”

“I remember the speech.” He held her gaze, steady, the warmth in his chest from earlier rearranging itself into something calmer and more certain now that he was actually standing in front of you. “I’m not doing anything the speech covers. We’re talking.”

“Just talking.”

“Just talking,” he agreed, and let the silence after that sit a beat longer than strictly comfortable, watching you decide what to do with it. You didn’t walk away. That, more than anything he’d noticed all night, told him something.

The conversation that followed wasn’t long — a few minutes, maybe, threaded between the noise of the party, you asking where he was from, him asking how long you’d lived in this exact chaos, the easy rhythm of two people figuring out they liked talking to each other more than either had planned on. But something underneath it had already shifted register, the air between you gone thick and obvious in the way that doesn’t need words to confirm it, and when you finally tipped your head toward the back hallway — toward the stairs, toward somewhere quieter — he didn’t hesitate even half a second before following.

The door to his room had barely clicked shut behind you before his hand found your jaw, tilting your face up to his, and he kissed you like he’d been thinking about it considerably longer than the twenty minutes you’d actually been talking — slow at first, testing, and then deeper when you made a small sound against his mouth that undid something careful in him. His tongue traced yours, unhurried despite the want clearly humming under his skin, like he had every intention of taking his time even though some other part of him was screaming to do anything but. “You sure about this?” he murmured, mouth dragging along your jaw, down the line of your throat.

“Jungwon.” Half a laugh, breathless already. “I dragged you up the stairs.”

“I know. Wanted to hear you say it anyway.”

He walked you back toward the bed with a hand splayed warm against the small of your back, and when the back of your knees hit the mattress he followed you down, settling his weight over you with a kind of deliberate control that made it very clear nothing about tonight was going to be rushed unless you wanted it to be. He kissed down the column of your throat, lingering at the spot where your pulse jumped under his mouth, and you felt the low sound that pulled out of you before you’d consciously decided to make it. “Pretty,” he said, against your skin, low, certain. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this.”

Clothes came off between kisses, unhurried despite the heat building under both your skins — his shirt first, then yours, his mouth finding your collarbone, the curve of your shoulder, lower, until his lips closed around one nipple and you arched up into him with a gasp that made him hum, pleased, against your chest. “There you go,” he murmured, glancing up at you through dark lashes, taking in the way your breath had gone shallow. “That’s it.” Your hands come up to him without thinking, sliding into his hair, pulling him closer, and that’s all it takes for the control he’s holding onto to slip just slightly. His mouth moves again, up your neck, along your jaw, back to your lips, kissing you deeper this time, less careful, more intent.His hands come up to your tits without hesitation, cupping them fully, thumbs dragging over your nipples, slow at first, like he’s testing, like he’s figuring out what you’ll do. You arch into him immediately. That’s all he needs. “There you go,” he says, softer now, watching your face. His mouth follows his hands, closing around one nipple, his tongue circling before he sucks, harder than you expect, and you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. He hums against you pleased. “That’s it,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes darker now, focused in a way that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah— keep doing that—”

His hand slid down the length of your body, slow, deliberate, mapping you like he intended to remember every inch of it, until his fingers found your folds, already slick, and the broken little sound you made at the first slow drag of his fingers through your heat seemed to do something to him — his own breath catching, jaw tight. “Fuck,” he breathed, almost reverent, watching your face. “You’re so wet already.”

He worked you open slow, one finger and then a second, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls drawing soft, breathy moans out of you that he seemed determined to collect one by one, his thumb finding your clit and circling it in slow, deliberate pressure that had your hips rolling up against his hand before you could stop them. “Good girl,” he murmured, watching you fall apart under his hand with open, undisguised satisfaction. “Just like that. Let me hear you.” His fingers moving inside, not fast or rough — just steady, curling slightly inside you, hitting deeper and deeper, his thumb keeping that same pressure on your clit that makes your whole body tighten.

When he finally settled between your thighs, cock thick and aching, he paused at your entrance just long enough to catch your eyes, checking, certain even now. You nodded, breathless, and he sank into you slow, inch by inch, a low groan tearing out of his throat at the way your walls stretched tight and slick around him as he bottoms out. “Christ — “ His forehead dropped to your shoulder for a second, composure visibly fraying. “You feel — fuck, you feel so good.” His hand tightens on your hip. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you say, breathless. “Keep going—” He started slow, deep, grinding his hips into yours with a kind of controlled, deliberate rhythm that had you gasping his name within minutes, his lips finding your neck again, sucking a mark into the skin there like he wanted proof of tonight to last past morning. His hand found yours, lacing your fingers together against the sheets, and the gesture was somehow more intimate than anything else he’d done so far. “Look at me,” he said, voice rough, and when you did, his rhythm picked up, the tip of him dragging against that spot inside you that made your back arch off the mattress, his name falling out of you again, broken this time.

“That’s it,” he breathed, watching your face with a hunger that had nothing detached about it. “You’re doing so good. So good for me.” The praise undid you faster than anything else he’d done, your moans coming quicker, breathier, his own breathing gone ragged above you as he chased the same building heat, until you tipped over the edge with a cry muffled against his shoulder, your walls clenching tight around him. He groans against your neck when he feels it, his rhythm breaking, then turning rougher for a second, chasing it, hips stuttering as he spills into you, slow and shaking through the last of it.

For a long moment afterward, neither of you moved — his weight braced over you, both your chests heaving, his thumb tracing absent, unhurried circles against your hip like he wasn’t quite ready to stop touching you yet. “Okay,” you managed, eventually, into the quiet. “That was — “

“Yeah,” he said, and even breathless, even wrecked, there was something steady in his voice that you didn’t examine too closely. “Yeah. That was.”

You woke up in your own bed the next morning, which felt important somehow — you’d made a point of it, pulling your dress back on at some indecent hour and walking the eight minutes back to your dorm rather than staying the night, because staying the night implied something you weren’t ready to imply, even to yourself, even in the privacy of your own head. Sunoo had texted you four times between 1 AM and 8 AM, the last one just reading wake up I need details with three eyes emojis, and you lay there for a solid ten minutes staring at your ceiling before you worked up the nerve to open the thread.

sunoo: WAKE UP

sunoo: I saw you disappear with him

sunoo: Y/N I need details or I will actually die

You typed nothing happened and deleted it, because Sunoo had literally watched you walk up the stairs together and would know immediately you were lying, which somehow felt worse than just telling him the truth. you: ok don’t be weird about this

sunoo: I’m always weird about things. specify.

you: jungwon and I hooked up

sunoo: I KNEW IT I CALLED IT LAST NIGHT

you: it was a one time thing

sunoo: sure…

you: I’m serious. it doesn’t mean anything. he’s jongseong’s freshman, it literally cannot happen again

sunoo: ok but did he?? was he??

you: I’m not doing this with you over text

sunoo: COFFEE. TEN MINUTES. I NEED TO LOOK AT YOUR FACE WHEN YOU TELL ME

You did, eventually, tell him — over coffee, in the dining hall, with Sunoo leaning so far across the table that he nearly knocked over both your cups twice — and true to form, he listened to the entire thing with his chin in his hands and his eyes getting progressively wider, and at the end of it, instead of the appropriately scandalized reaction you’d been braced for, he just said, “okay, but you’re going to see him again.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re literally going to see him constantly, Y/N, he lives in the house you’re at four times a week. This isn’t a guy you can ghost. This is a guy who’s going to be physically present in your life on a near-daily basis.” You hadn’t fully thought that part through, if you were being honest. “It can just be normal. It happened, it was — fine, it was good, it was really good, actually, but it happened, and now we move on like adults.”

“Sure,” Sunoo said, in the tone of someone who did not believe a single word of that sentence but had decided it would be more fun to watch it fail than to argue with it now.

It took exactly four days for the first text to arrive, and you spent an embarrassing amount of those four days checking your phone more than you’d ever admit out loud, which you told yourself was just curiosity and nothing else.

jungwon: hope the exam went okay

You stared at the message for a solid thirty seconds before you fully placed what he meant — you’d mentioned, in passing, during some entirely unrelated moment that night at the party, something about a stats midterm you’d been stressed about, a single throwaway sentence buried in twenty minutes of conversation that had ended in considerably less conversation. You hadn’t expected him to remember it. You definitely hadn’t expected him to remember the date of it well enough to text four days later asking how it went.

you: it was fine. how did you remember that?

jungwon: you mentioned it

you: I mentioned it once. for like a second.

jungwon: I have a good memory

You looked at that for longer than it deserved, turning it over, trying to decide what it actually meant, before landing — deliberately, with the specific effort of someone building a case — on the explanation that required the least amount of feeling anything. He’s probably like this with everyone. Some guys are just attentive. It doesn’t mean anything specific about you. You’d seen guys remember small details about people they were trying to sleep with before; it was, in your admittedly limited experience, a fairly standard move. You typed back something easy, noncommittal, and didn’t think about it again. You thought about it again almost immediately.

The second time you saw him wasn’t planned, exactly, though you’d go on to realize much later that very little involving Jungwon ever was as unplanned as it looked in the moment. You’d come by the Den on a Tuesday to drop off a textbook Heeseung had borrowed weeks ago and conveniently never returned, and you found Jungwon at the kitchen table again, same spot as your first meeting, a laptop open in front of him and the specific glazed look of someone three hours into a problem set he hated. “Stats?” you asked, dropping into the chair across from him out of habit before you’d consciously decided to stay.

“Econ. Worse.” He didn’t look up right away, but something in his posture shifted, settled, like your presence had registered before he’d even confirmed it with his eyes. “How’d the exam actually go? You gave me a one-word answer over text and I don’t trust one-word answers.”

“It was fine. Genuinely. I got a 91.”

“That’s not fine, that’s good.” He finally looked up, and something about his face doing that — actual interest, actual attention, like your stats midterm was a real piece of information he wanted rather than small talk he was performing — made you feel exposed in a way you weren’t prepared for at eleven in the morning on a Tuesday. “What was the part you were stressed about?”

“The regression stuff. I always mess up the regression stuff.”

“Did you mess it up?”

“No, actually.”

“See.” Something flickered at the corner of his mouth, not quite a smile, the same controlled almost-version of one you were starting to recognize as just how he looked when he was pleased about something he didn’t feel like performing loudly. “Told you you’d be fine.”

“You didn’t tell me anything, you texted me a four-word message four days after the fact.”

“I thought about it before that. I just didn’t text you about it before that.” You didn’t have an immediate response to that, which annoyed you more than the comment itself did, and you covered the gap by pulling Heeseung’s textbook out of your bag and setting it on the table with more force than necessary. “Anyway. This is Heeseung’s. Tell him I want it back faster next time, or I’m telling Coach he’s been using my notes to pass his sports psych class.”

“He’s been using your notes?”

“For two years. It’s our arrangement. I write good notes, he owes me eternal favors he never actually does.”

“I could text him for you. Tell him you stopped by.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to.” Jungwon said it simply, like the distinction mattered to him — not obligation, just preference — and went back to his laptop like the conversation had cost him nothing at all, which was somehow the part that unsettled you most as you let yourself back out the front door a few minutes later. He’s just like that, you told yourself, walking back across the quad. Considerate. It’s probably just a personality thing. You almost believed it.

It kept happening. That was the part you hadn’t planned for — not one specific moment you could point to and say this is when it became something, but an accumulation of small things that individually meant nothing and collectively meant something you weren’t ready to name. He started showing up. Not obviously, not in a way anyone could call out directly — he was just, increasingly, there, in the places you already were. You mentioned, once, in passing, that you liked the coffee place two blocks off campus better than the one on it, and the next time you walked into the campus one out of habit, you found him already in line, and when you raised an eyebrow he just said, “needed caffeine,” like that fully explained why a freshman hockey player with a packed practice schedule had wandered three blocks out of his way to a coffee shop you’d mentioned exactly once.

You came out of your Thursday lecture one week to find him leaning against the building’s brick exterior, hands in his pockets, looking entirely unbothered, like this was a totally normal place for him to be standing. “What are you doing here?”

“Was in the area.”

“Jungwon. This building is nowhere near the rink, nowhere near the Den, and nowhere near anything you have a reasonable excuse to be near. You don’t even have classes on this side of campus.”

“I have a class two buildings over.”

“At what time?”

“…Later.”

“How much later.”

“An hour and a half.” You’d laughed at that, properly laughed, the kind that surprised you because you hadn’t planned on finding it as funny as you did, and he’d just shrugged, unbothered by being caught, and walked you back toward the Den anyway like the ninety minutes he didn’t need to spend doing it were nothing at all to him.

You built explanations for every single one of these. He was nice. He was thoughtful with everyone — you’d seen him carry Riki’s gear bag without being asked, seen him remember Heeseung’s coffee order, seen him hold doors and notice things and generally exist as the kind of person who paid attention because that was simply who he was, not because of anything specific to you. He’s just like that, you told Sunoo, more than once, with increasing defensiveness each time. He’d do this for anyone. “Would he,” Sunoo said, unconvinced, the third time you tried the line on him. “Yes.”

“Has he stood outside any other girl’s lecture hall for ninety minutes?”

“I don’t know his entire schedule, Sunoo, I’m not his — I don’t track that.”

“You’re tracking it right now. You just told me it was a Thursday lecture and gave me a building name.” You hadn’t had a good answer for that one. You hadn’t really had a good answer for any of it, if you were honest, but being honest about it felt like opening a door you weren’t sure you’d be able to close again, so instead you kept doing the thing you’d apparently decided was easier: cataloguing every kind, attentive, specific thing Jungwon did, filing it carefully under that’s just him, and trying very hard not to notice how thin that file was getting to support the weight of what was actually piling up inside it.

—

The locker room before a game had a different texture than the locker room before practice, and Jungwon had learned the difference inside his first two weeks at Blackwood — practice was loose, chatter, somebody’s bad playlist. Game day was quiet in a way that wasn’t tense exactly, more like everyone in the room had individually decided to go somewhere internal for twenty minutes and would be back shortly. Jay sat at his stall with his eyes closed, headphones in, doing the same pregame ritual Jungwon had already watched him do four times now — three slow breaths, a fist against his own chest twice, then up and moving like a switch had been flipped. “You good?” Riki asked, low, from the next stall over, taping his stick with more focus than the task strictly required.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look good. You look like you’re about to throw up, which is hilarious, because you’ve told me multiple times you’re constitutionally incapable of that.”

“I’m not going to throw up.”

“Your face is doing a concerning thing.” Jungwon didn’t answer that, because Riki wasn’t entirely wrong — there was a specific, low-grade hum under his skin that hadn’t been there during any of the scrimmages or exhibition games, and he understood, finally and completely, the difference between playing well and playing well in front of a packed home arena on opening night with your name on the first line for the first time in program history as a true freshman. Coach had confirmed the lines an hour ago. Jungwon centering Jay and a senior winger named Sunoo’s roommate situation he hadn’t fully sorted out yet — no, that wasn’t right, he corrected himself, shaking the thought loose, focus — centering Jay. First line. Opening night.

He looked up once, scanning the stands through the tunnel as the team filed out for warmups, and found you almost immediately, three rows up behind the glass, exactly where you always sat — he’d clocked that without meaning to, the specific seat you and Sunoo claimed for every home game, close enough to see faces, far enough back to avoid getting hit by anything errant. You weren’t looking at him. You were looking at Jay, the way you always did first, tracking your brother onto the ice with the specific, unconscious attention of someone who’d been doing it your whole life. Then your eyes moved, found Jungwon’s, and something in your face did a small, private thing that he was almost certain nobody else in that stadium would have caught.

He scored his first collegiate goal eleven minutes into the second period — a give-and-go off Jay’s stick that he buried top shelf before the goalie had finished moving — and the arena went up around him in a wall of sound that he barely registered, because the only thing he was actually aware of, skating back toward the bench with his gloves up and his teammates slamming into him in celebration, was the specific spot three rows up where you were on your feet, both hands pressed over your mouth, looking at him like you’d forgotten, for one unguarded second, to look like you weren’t supposed to be looking at him like that at all. Jay slammed into him on the bench a second later, helmet knocking his, grinning wide and unrestrained in a way Jungwon hadn’t seen off him yet. “That’s what I’m talking about. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Lucky bounce.”

“That was not a lucky bounce, that was you reading a play I didn’t even know was there yet.” Jay clapped him hard on the shoulder, something genuinely proud in it that Jungwon felt land somewhere uncomfortable in his chest, given everything else currently happening in his life that Jay had absolutely no idea about. “Coach was right about you. I’m gonna hate saying that out loud as often as I’m clearly about to have to.”

Blackwood won 4–1. The Den that night was its own kind of chaos — a post-win party that started before half the team had even fully showered, Jake commandeering the speaker again, somebody’s questionable decision to bring home a literal cardboard cutout of the team mascot from God knows where. Jungwon found himself in the middle of it, still riding the particular high of a first goal in a packed building, fielding congratulations from upperclassmen who’d barely spoken to him three weeks ago and now seemed entirely willing to consider him a real part of the program.

You found him near midnight, in the kitchen, away from the worst of the noise, where he’d retreated with a water bottle and the specific overstimulated quiet of someone whose adrenaline had finally started to crash. “Hey, scorer.” You leaned against the counter beside him, close enough that he could smell whatever you were wearing, something warm underneath the general party smell of the house. “Good game.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. I’ve watched Jongseong play with a lot of centers. You two looked like you’d been playing together for years, not weeks.”

“It helped that he kept finding me.”

“He doesn’t do that for just anyone.” You said it simply, like a fact, and something about the specific weight you put on it — he doesn’t do that for just anyone, echoing right back at the same private logic you’d been using to talk yourself out of every single thing Jungwon had done for weeks — made you go quiet for a second too long, like you’d heard yourself say it and immediately regretted the implication. Jungwon didn’t push it. He’d learned, in three weeks of watching you build and rebuild the same careful argument, that pushing only ever made you retreat faster. “You disappeared fast after the game,” you said instead, recovering. “I thought you’d stick around for the chaos longer.”

“Needed air.”

“You’re standing in a kitchen.”

“It’s quieter air than the living room.” A small, almost-smile. “You found me, though.”

“I was looking for water. This is incidental.”

“Sure.” You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move away, and the space between you had gone thin and obvious in the same way it had three weeks ago at the party — except this time there was no excuse of being drunk, no Sunoo dragging you anywhere, just the two of you standing in a kitchen at midnight with three weeks of careful, deniable, he’s just like that tension sitting heavy in the air between you. You were the one who closed the distance this time. You’d think about that later — the fact that you’d made the decision, hadn’t waited for him to make the first move the way he had at the party — and you’d wonder what that meant about how far gone you already were without having admitted it to yourself yet.

You kissed him first, one hand fisting lightly in the front of his shirt, and he made a low, surprised sound against your mouth before his hands found your waist, steadying, like he needed a second to confirm this was actually happening before he let himself fully lean into it. “Thought this was a one-time thing,” he murmured, lips barely leaving yours.

“Shut up.”

“Just confirming the terms.”

“Jungwon.”

“Right. Shutting up.” He didn’t, not entirely — he kissed you again, slower this time, deliberate, walking you back until you hit the counter’s edge, hands braced either side of you like he had every intention of keeping you exactly there. “Upstairs,” he said, against your jaw, somewhere between a question and a statement. “If you want.” You did.

His room was darker this time, the party noise muffled down to a low thrum through the floor, and there was something different in the way he undressed you now — less the controlled, deliberate unhurriedness of someone proving a point, more the quiet hunger of someone who’d spent three weeks pretending he hadn’t been thinking about exactly this. “You moved first,” he said, mouth at your throat, hands sliding the strap of your top down your shoulder. “Didn’t expect that.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“Not making it weird. Just noticing.” He pulled back far enough to look at you properly, something steady and a little too searching in his eyes for a hookup either of you was still insisting this was. “I like that you did.” You didn’t have a response for that that wouldn’t have meant admitting something, so you kissed him again instead, and let that be the answer.

He laid you back against the sheets with the same deliberate care as the first time, mouth trailing down your throat, your collarbone, lower, his hands mapping you like he was confirming something he already knew rather than learning it fresh. When his fingers finally find your folds, already slick, he exhales sharply at the feel of you, his head dipping, his forehead briefly pressing to your stomach like he needs a second.“Every time,” he murmured, almost to himself. “You’re like this every time.”

“Don’t get smug about it.”

“Wasn’t being smug. Was being honest.” His thumb found your clit, slow, deliberate circles that pull your breath out of you almost immediately, your hips shifting up into his hand before you can stop them. He notices. Of course he does. His eyes flick back to your face and stay there, watching everything — the way your mouth parts, the way your breathing changes, the way your body responds to him.“You gonna let me hear you tonight, or are you still trying to be quiet for the house.”

You let out a breath that turns into something softer, more broken as his thumb presses a little firmer. “The house is currently hosting forty drunk hockey players, Jungwon, nobody’s listening.”

“Good.” Something low and pleased in his voice. “Then don’t hold back.” His fingers slide through you again, slower this time, spreading the slickness, feeling you properly before he presses one finger into you, easing it in without rushing, letting you feel the stretch. You gasp. Your hands find his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, instead adds a second finger, deeper this time, the drag of them against your walls slow and deliberate, pulling soft sounds out of you that start low, breathy, and only get louder the longer he keeps going.Your breath breaks, your thighs tightening around his arm, your body reacting faster, harder.“Good,” he says softly. “You look so good like this—” His fingers curl slightly inside you, hitting deeper, and the sound you make this time is louder, less controlled.

When he finally settled over you, lining himself up, he paused just long enough to press his forehead to yours. “Look at me,” he said, the same thing he’d said the first time, like it mattered to him every time, and when you did, he sank into you slow, a rough exhale tearing out of his throat at the tight, slick give of your walls around him. “Fuck — there you go.” His hips found a slow, grinding rhythm almost immediately, deep, deliberate, his mouth finding your neck, sucking another mark into skin that hadn’t quite finished healing from the last one.

“You take me so well. Every damn time.” The praise pulled a moan out of you that you didn’t bother muffling this time, and he made a rough, satisfied sound at the back of his throat in response, picking up the pace, the tip of him dragging against that spot that had your hips rolling up to meet his own. “That’s it,” he breathed, voice fraying at the edges. “That’s it, just like that — you sound so good.” Your hand found his, lacing fingers against the sheet the way it had the first time, and something about the repetition of that small gesture — the fact that he’d done it again, unprompted, like it was simply part of how he touched you now — undid you faster than anything else, your moans climbing breathless and unguarded until you tipped over with his name broken on your lips, walls clenching tight around him. He followed seconds later, groaning into your hair, hips stuttering through the last of it.

Neither of you moved for a long minute afterward, his weight braced careful above you, both of you breathing hard. “Okay,” you managed eventually, the exact same word you’d used the first time, like your brain hadn’t come up with anything new in three weeks. “That was — “

“Yeah.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, unhurried, lingering half a second longer than a one-time thing required. “That was.”

You walked back to your dorm alone again that night, the same as before, and lay awake afterward turning over the same tired argument — he’s just like that, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s just convenient, you’re both just convenient for each other — except this time, for the first time, the argument didn’t quite hold its shape all the way through to morning. Good note — this is exactly the right instinct, you want the “everyone notices” chapter to land on a foundation that’s actually been built, not implied. A montage of small, accumulating moments before the bigger social-fallout chapter. Building that now.

It became a pattern made entirely of small things, none of which felt significant on their own and all of which, stacked together, were starting to feel like a life you hadn’t quite agreed to but weren’t fighting either. He texted first more often now. Not every day — Jungwon wasn’t a constant-texter, never had been, but the texts that did come were specific in a way that always undid your he’s just like that theory a little further.

jungwon: what time’s your lecture end today

you: 2:15 why

jungwon: no reason

There was always a reason. You walked out of your 2:15 that Thursday and found him sitting on the low wall outside the building, gear bag at his feet like he’d come straight from the gym, scrolling his phone with the studied casualness of someone who’d been there longer than “no reason” implied.

“You weren’t even supposed to have a free period right now.”

“I moved my lift.”

“You moved your lift.”

“Coach lets me have some flexibility.” He stood, falling into step beside you without asking if that was the plan, like it had simply stopped being a question between you. “How was the lecture.”

“Boring. You moved your lift for a boring lecture you weren’t even in.”

“I moved my lift to walk you back. The lecture being boring is just a fact you told me, unrelated.” You didn’t have a comeback for that, mostly because you didn’t want one — you wanted to keep walking next to him in the cold with his shoulder bumping yours every few steps, which was its own small, uncomfortable piece of evidence you kept choosing not to look at directly.

You started going to more practices than you used to. You told yourself it was because the season was getting good, because Jongseong’s line was clicking in a way that made it genuinely fun to watch, and that was even mostly true — but you also couldn’t deny, standing at the glass with your arms crossed against the cold of the rink, that your eyes found a specific number on the ice before they found your own brother’s. After one particular Thursday practice — closed to the public, technically, but the rink doors were never actually locked and you’d been sneaking in to watch since before you could legally drive — you waited until most of the team had filtered toward the locker room tunnel, until it was just a few stragglers and Coach Anders gathering up cones at center ice, and caught Jungwon’s eye across the rink with a small tilt of your head toward the narrow service corridor that ran behind the home bench.

He peeled off from the group without a word, gear bag over one shoulder, and found you in the dim, concrete-smelling hallway two minutes later, still in his practice jersey, hair damp with sweat, breathing a little hard from the skate. “That’s disgusting, by the way,” you said, wrinkling your nose as he got close. “You smell like a locker room.”

“You wanted me back here.”

“I didn’t say I wanted to be close to the smell.” He laughed, low, and backed you gently against the cool concrete wall anyway, one hand braced beside your head, and you let him, because apparently you’d stopped pretending the smell was actually a deterrent somewhere around hookup number one. “Well done today,” you murmured, against his mouth, an echo of the thing you said after every good game, except this was just a Thursday practice nobody else was watching, and you’d said it anyway, like it mattered to you whether he heard it. “It was just a drill.”

“You still looked good doing it.”

“Yeah?” Something pleased and a little smug crept into his voice, and you kissed him before he could lean too hard into it, his hand coming up to cup your jaw, the kiss going slower, deeper, his tongue tracing yours unhurried even though you both knew Coach was thirty feet away and any one of the team could walk down this corridor in the next ninety seconds. “We’re going to get caught one of these days,” you said, when you finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

“Not today.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know nobody comes down this hallway. I checked.” He said it so simply, so practically, like he’d actually scouted the corridor in advance for exactly this purpose, that you laughed again, helpless, and he caught the sound with another kiss before you could finish it.

You let him walk you back out a side door a few minutes later, his hoodie — Blackwood Hockey, his last name on the back, YANG in block lettering you definitely hadn’t memorized the shape of — somehow ending up over your shoulders, because you’d complained once about the cold and he’d simply taken it off and handed it to you without making it a whole thing, the same easy, unbothered way he did most things for you now. You meant to give it back. You told yourself that every single time. The pile of his hoodies steadily accumulating at the back of your closet would suggest otherwise, if anyone had thought to look. Sunoo noticed the hoodies before he noticed almost anything else, mostly because he had unrestricted access to your closet and the world’s least subtle eye for detail. “Okay, why do you own four of the same hoodie.”

“I don’t own four of the same hoodie.”

“You own four hoodies that all say YANG on the back, Y/N, I’m not colorblind, I can see the consistent theme.” Sunoo held one up by the shoulders, inspecting it like evidence at a trial. “This is not subtle. This is, in fact, the opposite of subtle. This is a paper trail.”

“They’re comfortable.”

“I’m sure they are. I’m sure that’s the only reason.” He folded it back into the pile with exaggerated care, like he was handling something fragile and emotionally significant, which, you supposed, it currently was. “You know I’m rooting for you. I just think you should know that your closet has officially ratted you out, in case you were under the impression you were being subtle about any of this.”

“I never said I was being subtle.”

“You implied it heavily by insisting nothing’s going on, repeatedly, for over a month.” You didn’t have a defense for that one either. You were running out of defenses generally, you’d noticed — the file you’d been keeping, he’s just like that, it doesn’t mean anything, had gotten so thin and so unconvincing that you’d basically stopped pulling it out except as a reflex, a thing you said because you’d been saying it so long it had become muscle memory rather than something you actually believed.

The one bright spot in all of it, weirdly, was Sunoo’s own slow-motion disaster running in parallel — because somewhere in the same stretch of weeks, Sunghoon had apparently decided that ignoring Sunoo at the gym wasn’t a sustainable long-term strategy, and had started, with the same painful, visible effort it took him to do anything emotionally honest, showing up around him on purpose. “He asked me to get food,” Sunoo reported one night, vibrating with it, sprawled dramatically across your bed while you tried to study. “Just the two of us. No team. No excuse. He said, and I’m going to quote this exactly because I’ve already memorized it, ‘do you want to get food sometime, just us, like, as a thing, if you want it to be a thing, no pressure if not.’”

“That’s so awkward.”

“It’s the most romantic sentence anyone’s ever said to me, don’t ruin this for me.”

“I’m not ruining it, I think it’s sweet that he’s bad at it.”

“He’s so bad at it. He practiced that sentence, Y/N, I could tell, there was a cadence to it like he’d said it in his bathroom mirror forty times.” Sunoo rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin on his hands, grinning at you with the specific delight of someone who’d finally gotten what he wanted and couldn’t quite believe it. “Anyway. We’re getting food Friday. As a thing. I said yes so fast I think I scared him a little.”

“I’m happy for you.”

“I’m happy for you too, even though you keep insisting there’s nothing to be happy about, which, by the way, four identical hoodies.”

“Drop the hoodies.”

“I will never drop the hoodies.” Underneath all of it — the texts, the corridor, the hoodies steadily migrating into your closet, Sunoo’s slow, awkward, delighted thing with Sunghoon humming along beside yours like a quieter mirror of the same feeling — there was a song you’d started playing on repeat without quite noticing you’d started doing it, something low and aching and a little too on the nose, the kind of song that made you feel caught out by your own playlist. You didn’t examine that too closely either. You’d gotten good, lately, at not examining things too closely. It wasn’t sustainable. You knew that, somewhere underneath the part of you still insisting otherwise. You just weren’t ready yet to be the one who said it out loud first.

Riki had a theory, and the problem with Riki’s theories was that he refused to keep them to himself until he’d fully confirmed them, which meant Jungwon spent most of a Tuesday afternoon practice getting side-eyed across the locker room like he was a crime scene Riki hadn’t finished processing yet. “You smell like her perfume,” Riki said, apropos of nothing, while they were both lacing up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do laundry next to you, Jungwon. I know what your detergent smells like. I also now know what her perfume smells like, because it’s been showing up on your hoodies for three weeks, and those are two very different smells, and you are currently covered in the second one.”

“That’s not — “ Jungwon stopped, recalibrated, decided the better strategy was not engaging at all. “Tie your skates.”

“I’m just saying. For a guy who insists nothing’s going on, you sure do smell like a specific person an awful lot.” He wasn’t wrong, which was the most annoying part. Jungwon had gotten careless — not about the actual secret, he was still careful about that, still made sure nobody saw anything that would actually confirm it — but about the smaller tells. He’d started checking his phone faster than he used to. Started angling his laptop screen away from the kitchen table on instinct whenever someone walked by, even when all he was looking at was a stats reading. Riki, sharing a room with him for six weeks now, had apparently built up a working database of Jungwon’s baseline behavior and was running constant diffs against it. “You also disappear,” Riki added, undeterred by the silence. “At parties. You’re there, then you’re not there, and then forty minutes later you’re back like nothing happened, except your hair’s different and you’ve got this look.”

“What look.”

“The look. The one you’re doing right now, where you’re trying very hard to have no look at all, which is itself a look.” Jungwon gave up entirely on the laces and just stared at him. “What do you actually think is happening, Riki.”

“Honestly?” Riki considered it, head tilted, with the specific seriousness of a man about to deliver a verdict. “I think you’ve got a hookup situation going with someone you really, really don’t want anyone to know about, and I think it’s someone close enough to this house that the secrecy isn’t paranoia, it’s necessary.” That was, Jungwon thought, uncomfortably close to the actual truth for someone who didn’t have the full picture. “And I think,” Riki continued, clearly enjoying himself now, “that if I had to bet money on exactly one specific person, I would bet on—”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not gonna say it. I respect the game too much to just say it out loud. I’m gonna let you have this.” Riki finally bent down to actually tie his skates, infuriatingly satisfied with himself. “I just want it on record that I noticed first. When this eventually comes out — and it will, things like this always come out — I want full credit for calling it in week three.”

“There’s nothing to call.”

“Sure, buddy.”

Jake noticed differently, and later, and by accident — which was, in retrospect, the way most of the house ended up noticing things, because Jake’s primary skill was being in the wrong room at the right time and immediately understanding the significance of whatever he’d walked into. It happened on a Thursday, three weeks after the home opener, when you’d come by the Den to return Heeseung’s textbook for the second time — a running bit at this point, since Heeseung kept “forgetting” to give it back specifically so you’d keep coming by, a fact you had not yet clocked and that the rest of the house found hilarious — and Jungwon had intercepted you in the front hallway before you’d even made it to the kitchen. “He’s not even here,” Jungwon said, leaning against the doorframe like he’d been waiting, which — Jake would think later, replaying it — he absolutely had been. “Practice ran late for the d-men. You can just leave it.”

“I know I can just leave it, I was going to leave it on the kitchen table—”

“I’ll make sure he gets it.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to.” The same line he’d used weeks ago, delivered with the same easy certainty, and something about the rhythm of it — the fact that you both seemed to already know this bit, already had a shorthand for it — was what actually caught Jake’s attention as he came down the stairs, gear bag over one shoulder, mid-text to someone else entirely.

He stopped on the landing. Didn’t say anything yet. Just watched for a second longer than either of you noticed him watching, taking in the specific quality of the space between you — not friendly-easy, not stranger-polite, something with more weight in it, the kind of familiarity that took longer than six weeks to build unless something had sped the process up considerably. You handed Jungwon the textbook. Your fingers brushed his on the handoff, the kind of accidental contact two people lingered on a half-second longer than accidental contact usually got, and neither of you seemed to register that you’d done it at all. “I’ll see you around,” you said, already turning for the door.

“Yeah.” Jungwon’s voice did something on that one syllable that Jake had genuinely never heard out of him before — not at practice, not at games, not in six weeks of living down the hall from the guy. Something soft. Something that had no business being attached to a sentence that short. Jake waited until the front door clicked shut behind you before he came the rest of the way down the stairs, eyebrows already halfway up his forehead. “So,” he said.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet.”

“You were about to say something.”

“I was about to say so, and then I was going to let the so do a lot of heavy lifting, and you just confirmed everything the so was going to imply by getting defensive about it before I finished.” Jake dropped his gear bag by the stairs, grinning now, delighted in the specific way he got delighted about things that promised future entertainment value. “Bro.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You said ‘yeah’ to her like it cost you something to say it. I’ve known you six weeks and I’ve genuinely never heard your voice do that.” Jungwon didn’t have a response that wasn’t a lie, and Jake — to his credit, Jungwon would think later — didn’t push for one. Just clapped him once on the shoulder, the universal gesture of a man choosing not to make something someone else’s problem yet, and headed for the kitchen. “I’m not gonna say anything,” Jake said, over his shoulder. “Mostly because I don’t actually know anything, I just watched a vibe happen. But for the record? If I’m right about what that vibe was — and I think I’m right — you’ve picked the single most complicated person on this entire campus to have feelings about.”

“I don’t—”

“Jungwon.” Jake stopped in the kitchen doorway, looking back at him with something almost gentle underneath the usual bit. “I’ve watched Jongseong run off guys at parties for less than what I just saw happen in that hallway. I’m not saying don’t. I’m saying be careful. That’s all. That’s the whole speech.” He disappeared into the kitchen, already calling out to Heeseung about something unrelated, and Jungwon stood alone in the hallway for a long moment, the textbook still in his hands, thinking that be careful was advice he’d needed about six weeks ago, and was currently far too late to actually take.

Heeseung found out the most boring way possible, which fit him — he was the kind of person who noticed things quietly and decided what to do with the information later, rather than announcing his discoveries the way Jake did. He’d simply started noticing that you knew things about Jungwon’s schedule that you had no obvious way of knowing — texting Sunghoon once to ask if practice was running over because Jungwon mentioned it might, a detail that hadn’t come from anyone but Jungwon himself.

He didn’t say anything about it. He just started covering, automatically, the way he’d cover for any of his teammates without needing to be asked — vague answers when Jay asked where Jungwon was, a deliberate slowness in mentioning that you’d stopped by when you clearly hadn’t wanted it mentioned. He never confirmed anything out loud to anyone. He just quietly became part of the machinery keeping the secret intact, the same unbothered, low-key way he did most things, and never once brought it up to Jungwon directly. Jungwon noticed the covering before he ever figured out Heeseung had clocked anything. By the time he put it together — weeks later, in the middle of an entirely unrelated conversation, when Heeseung said something that only made sense if he already knew — it didn’t even feel like a confrontation. Just a quiet, unspoken acknowledgment between two people who’d both decided silence was easier than the alternative.

Sunghoon noticed last, mostly because Sunghoon’s attention was almost entirely occupied that semester by his own slow-motion crisis regarding a specific person on the other side of campus, and he genuinely had very little processing power left over for anyone else’s romantic developments. When he finally did clock it — weeks later, watching Jungwon hover a half-second too long near the door whenever you were expected — his only reaction was a flat, “oh, that’s happening too?” like the house had simply hit its quota for secret entanglements and he was mildly annoyed there’d be two simultaneous storylines to keep track of.

By the time the home stretch of the semester hit, the entire house knew something — not the full shape of it, not how far back it went or how much it had already become, but enough to start quietly rearranging themselves around it. Cover stories appeared without being requested. Jay’s questions about Jungwon’s whereabouts got answered just vaguely enough to be technically true. Nobody said anything to Jay directly, because nobody wanted to be the one to set off whatever they all correctly suspected would be a genuinely bad reaction, and because — if anyone had asked them, which nobody did — most of them had quietly decided, somewhere along the way, that they liked watching Jungwon be like this. Soft. Distracted. Obviously, hopelessly gone for someone, in a way none of them had ever seen out of him before. It was, Jake said once, to Heeseung, the two of them watching Jungwon check his phone for the fourth time in ten minutes during a film session, “honestly kind of nice. Watching the guy be a disaster for once. Makes him feel human.”

“Jay’s gonna lose his mind when he finds out.”

“Yeah.” Jake didn’t sound especially worried about it, in the moment, in the specific way nobody in that house was worried about anything yet, because the bad part hadn’t happened. “But that’s a future problem.”

—

It was Sunghoon who spotted the hickey, and he didn’t even mean to — it was just there, dark and obvious, riding the curve of Jungwon’s neck above his collar when he peeled his shirt off before practice, and Sunghoon, mid-conversation with Heeseung about something entirely unrelated, simply stopped talking and stared. “Okay, what.”

“What?” Jungwon, lacing his skates, didn’t look up.

“Your neck.”

“What about it.”

“It’s got a — “ Sunghoon gestured, vaguely, at the general vicinity of his own throat, like the word itself was too much effort. “There’s a whole situation happening there.” Heeseung leaned over to look, and to his credit, didn’t say anything immediately — just took it in with the resigned, weary calm of a man who already had a working theory about its origins and didn’t need it confirmed out loud. Jake, three stalls down, had no such restraint. “OH my god.” He was up and crossing the room before Jungwon could even reach for his collar to cover it, grabbing his jaw and tilting his head sideways with zero regard for personal space. “That is not subtle. That is genuinely the least subtle hickey I have ever seen on a human neck, who did this to you, I need a name—”

“Get off.” Jungwon shoved him away, yanking his collar up with more force than the gesture required, ears going faintly red in a way that had nothing to do with the temperature of the locker room. “You’re blushing! He’s blushing, everyone look, Yang Jungwon is blushing—”

“I will end you, Jake.”

“You can’t end me, I’m a senior, I have seniority over your blushing.” Jake was delighted in a way that was going to make the entire practice session unbearable, Jungwon could already tell, and the fact that Riki had gone suspiciously, deliberately quiet in the corner — not even looking up, very pointedly minding his own business in a way that screamed I know exactly whose mouth did that and I am choosing not to say it out loud right now — only made it worse.

“Coach is gonna notice,” Heeseung said, mildly, like he was doing Jungwon a genuine favor by flagging it rather than just enjoying the chaos. “Coach notices everything,” Sunghoon added. “He noticed I changed deodorant brands once. Mid-practice. Pulled me aside specifically to ask if I was sick.”

“It’s a hickey, not a medical emergency, can we move on—”

“We absolutely cannot move on, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in this locker room all semester.” Jay walked in midway through, gear bag over his shoulder, and the entire room — Jake included, for once — went quiet fast enough that it was almost funnier than the joke itself. Jay glanced around at the sudden silence, mildly suspicious, the universal expression of a captain who’d clearly walked into the middle of something and didn’t yet know what. “What.”

“Nothing,” six people said, at almost exactly the same time, in a unison so synchronized it was its own kind of confession. Jay’s eyes narrowed, scanning the room, landing — inevitably, because Jungwon still had his hand half-cupped over his own neck like that wasn’t going to draw more attention than just leaving it alone — directly on him. “You good, Yang?”

“Yeah. Fine. Just — cold. In here. Cold room.”

“It’s not cold in here.” Jay frowned, looking around at the room generally, like he was trying to locate whatever joke he’d clearly missed, and then seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the time, the way captains learn to triage which mysteries are actually worth solving. “Whatever. Get your skates on, Coach wants us on the ice in five.” The second he turned away, Jake mouthed “cold room” at Jungwon with such exaggerated disbelief that Jungwon had to physically look away to keep from laughing, which, in retrospect, was its own kind of tell, but at least Jay had already left the room.

Jay, for his part, had started noticing something else entirely — not the hickey, he genuinely never clocked that one, too distracted by practice logistics to connect dots that weren’t directly in front of him — but the simple, accumulating fact that you’d been at the Den constantly lately. More than usual, and his version of usual was already pretty high, since you’d basically grown up treating the place like a second home. “You’re here a lot,” he said one evening, finding you on the couch with your laptop, a half-finished essay open and very obviously not being worked on. “I’m always here.”

“You’re here more. I counted. You’ve been here five out of the last seven days.”

“Wow. Tracking my movements. Very normal brother behavior.”

“I’m not tracking your movements, I just notice things, it’s a captain instinct, it doesn’t turn off.” He dropped onto the couch beside you, stealing a chip from the bag balanced on the armrest without asking, the same easy, thoughtless intimacy you’d had your whole lives. “Is everything okay? With you? Is this an avoiding-your-dorm thing, or a missing-your-favorite-brother thing?”

“You’re my only brother.”

“Which makes me the favorite by default. Don’t dodge the question.”

“Everything’s fine, Jongseong. I just like it here.” You said it lightly, easily, and it wasn’t even technically a lie, which made it easier to say without flinching — you did like it here, more than you’d let yourself examine the actual reasons for lately. “Can’t a girl enjoy her brother’s questionable life choices in frat-house form without it being a whole investigation?”

“I guess.” He didn’t look fully convinced, but he let it go, the way he generally let things go when you used that exact tone — easy, unbothered, nothing here worth the energy of pushing — and went back to stealing your chips instead, and you let yourself exhale, slow and quiet, grateful that the version of you he’d known your whole life was apparently still convincing enough to hold up under a few extra questions. You weren’t sure how much longer that was going to keep being true. You didn’t let yourself think about it too hard.

The “team bonding” thing happened on a Friday Jay had scheduled weeks in advance — mandatory, his words, no exceptions, an entire evening at some axe-throwing place across town that he’d decided the team needed for “chemistry,” which had become a running joke all week because nobody fully believed Jay actually thought axe-throwing built chemistry so much as he just wanted an excuse to make everyone do something together that wasn’t hockey. Jungwon went. Obviously. Mandatory was mandatory, and he was still new enough to the program that skipping a captain’s event wasn’t a card he could play yet. He lasted two hours — long enough to throw a genuinely embarrassing number of axes into the wall instead of the target, long enough for Jake to declare him “tragically bad at exactly one physical activity, finally, some humility” — before he found a moment between rounds, phone in hand, thumb already moving before he’d fully decided to send it.

jungwon: team bonding. axe throwing. I’m terrible at it you: send proof jungwon: no you: that bad? jungwon: jake has been narrating my failures for forty minutes. it’s a whole bit now. you: I want to see it jungwon: absolutely not jungwon: what are you doing tonight you: nothing. sunoo’s out with sunghoon. apparently it’s becoming an actual thing thing. jungwon: good for them you: you’re going to be at this for hours, jongseong’s not letting anyone leave early jungwon: probably jungwon: unless I’m not. You’d read that last text three times before you fully understood what he was implying, and by the time you’d typed back don’t you dare get in trouble for this, he’d already left it on read, which — you’d learn, later, watching him recount it with a kind of sheepish pride — meant he’d already made the decision somewhere around the second eyeroll Jake gave him for missing yet another axe throw, and had simply waited for the right moment to slip out the side door while Jay was mid-story about last season’s playoff run.

He didn’t call an Uber to your dorm. He texted you instead, come open your window, which felt like an unnecessarily dramatic instruction until you actually looked outside and found him three stories down, standing in the grass below your window with his hands in his pockets like climbing buildings was a totally normal Friday activity for him. “You cannot be serious.”

“There’s a drainpipe. It’s very stable.”

“It is not — Jungwon, that is not a stable anything, that is a liability, get away from it—” He was already climbing by the time you finished the sentence, infuriatingly competent at it in a way that suggested either an athletic background doing something useful for once or a genuinely concerning lack of risk assessment, and you spent the entire ascent with your heart somewhere in your throat, half ready to call campus security and half ready to laugh, until he finally hauled himself up onto your windowsill and dropped into your room with significantly less grace than the climb itself had suggested, nearly taking out your desk lamp on the way down. “You’re insane.”

“I missed you.” He said it so simply, breathless from the climb, hair messed up, grinning in a way you rarely got to see fully unguarded, that you didn’t even have a comeback ready. “Jongseong’s gonna do the speech about attendance tomorrow. Worth it.”

“You’re going to get in actual trouble.”

“Probably.” He didn’t seem remotely concerned about that, already crossing the small space of your dorm room toward you, hands finding your waist. “Worth that too.” You kissed him before you could think better of it, and it had a different texture than usual — none of the unhurried, deliberate pacing of the first two times, something hungrier in it, both of you a little reckless off the adrenaline of him literally having climbed a building to get here. “You climbed three stories,” you murmured against his mouth, “to do this.”

“Wasn’t going to wait until tomorrow.”

“You could’ve just waited.”

“Didn’t want to.” He walked you back toward your bed, mouth at your jaw, your throat, hands already working at the hem of your shirt with considerably less patience than usual. “Wanted you tonight.” Clothes came off faster this time, less ceremony, more want, and when he finally got you under him, bare skin against bare skin, his mouth found yours again, deep, insistent, tongue sliding against yours with none of the careful restraint from before. “You’re in a hurry,” you breathed, when he finally pulled back enough to look at you.

“I am not in a hurry.” He pressed a kiss to your collarbone, lower, his hand sliding between your thighs to find you already slick, and the rough sound he made at that told you exactly how much restraint he currently had left. “I’m just very motivated.” His fingers worked you open quick, sure, two fingers curling against your walls in a way that had your back arching off the mattress almost immediately, his thumb finding your clit and pressing tight, deliberate circles that pulled a breathy moan out of you before you could think to muffle it against anything. “That’s it,” he murmured, low, watching your face with the same hungry attention he always gave you. “God, you’re so wet for me already.”

“Jungwon—”

“I know. I know, I’ve got you.” He kissed you again, hard, swallowing the next sound you made, and when he finally settled between your thighs and pushed into you, there was nothing slow about it this time — a long, rough slide that had you both groaning at once, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Fuck — “ His hips found a rhythm fast, deep, grinding into you with a kind of urgency that had your nails dragging down his back. “You feel so good, every single time, I swear—” The pace built quick, his mouth at your neck sucking another mark into skin that already had a fading one from days before, his hand finding yours and lacing your fingers together against the sheets the same way it always did, like even rushed, even reckless, that small piece of tenderness was non-negotiable to him.

“Look at me,” he said, rough, and when your eyes met his, something in his rhythm shifted, deepened, the tip of him dragging against that spot inside you that had your moans climbing breathless and unguarded. “You’re so good,” he breathed, voice fraying. “So good, taking me like this — gonna make you cum so hard you forget your own name.” The praise tipped you faster than usual, your walls clenching tight around him as you came apart with a cry you pressed into his shoulder to muffle, and he followed almost immediately after, a rough groan torn out of him as he spilled into you, hips stuttering through the last of it before he collapsed half his weight onto you, both of you breathing hard in the quiet of your dorm room.

“Worth the drainpipe?” you managed, eventually, into the dark. “Worth the drainpipe.” He pressed a lazy kiss to your temple, still catching his breath. “Worth Jongseong’s speech tomorrow too, honestly.”

“He’s actually going to kill you.”

“He’s gonna yell about attendance. He’s not gonna kill me.” Jungwon settled beside you, pulling you in against his chest with an easy, unthinking familiarity that you both noticed and didn’t comment on — the fact that he hadn’t left yet, hadn’t started the usual post-hookup routine of finding his clothes in the dark. “Can I stay a while?” You should have said no. You’d been saying no to exactly this for weeks, the staying, the parts that made it feel like something with a future instead of something contained. “Yeah,” you said instead, quiet, already half-asleep against him. “Yeah, you can stay.” Neither of you said anything else about what that meant. You didn’t have to. You both already knew.

—

The qualifier had been circled on the team calendar since August — win, and Blackwood was through to the regional bracket that fed straight into the Founders Cup; lose, and the season’s best version of itself ended in a building three hours from campus with nothing to show for it. Coach Anders had been quieter than usual all week, which everyone had learned meant he was more nervous than usual, and Jay had been running pregame meetings with the specific intensity of a captain who’d been to this exact game twice before and lost it. “Eyes up,” he said, in the locker room, voice pitched low and even in the way it got before something mattered. “We’ve done the work. We know this team. We know their power play, we know their breakout, we know their goalie cheats low on his glove side.” A pause, scanning the room, landing — same as always — on the freshmen for half a second longer than anyone else. “Tonight’s not about being perfect. It’s about being the team that wants it more for sixty minutes straight. I need that from everyone. Especially my first line.” His eyes found Jungwon’s. Held there. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, and meant it the way he meant most things — completely, with no real plan for what came after if it didn’t go his way. It went his way. It went the whole team’s way, in the end, but it was close enough for most of the third period that the entire arena had been on its feet for the last six minutes of regulation, the score knotted at two, both benches screaming themselves hoarse at every faceoff. Jungwon won the draw with ninety seconds left, fed it back to the point, and when the rebound came loose in the slot it was Jay who buried it — top corner, glove side, exactly where Jungwon had told him all week the goalie wouldn’t expect it — and the arena came apart at the seams.

Jay found him first in the pile, both of them screaming something at each other that wasn’t even words anymore, helmets knocking, the whole bench spilling over the boards to bury them both. Riki got there a half-second later, half-sobbing with the specific delirious exhaustion of a freshman who’d just played the biggest sixty minutes of his life, and for a long, loud, glorious minute none of it had anything to do with secrets or rules or anyone’s sister. It was just hockey, the purest version of it, the kind Jungwon had signed up for in the first place. “THAT’S MY CENTER,” Jay was shouting, at no one, at everyone, dragging Jungwon into a headlock that was technically a celebration and technically also just Jay needing somewhere to put the sheer volume of feeling currently moving through him. “That’s my guy! I called it week one, I told Coach, I told him—”

“You told him nothing, you were terrified of me in week one—”

“I was never terrified, I was strategic—”

The bus ride home was loud the whole way, somebody’s phone playing the win highlight on a loop until everyone had watched Jay’s goal from six different angles, and by the time they pulled up outside the Den, the entire street already had cars parked along it that didn’t belong to anyone in the house — word traveled fast on a qualifier night, and half the campus seemed to already know there’d be a party going by the time the team actually walked in the door.

Riki covered for him for the first time that night, and it happened almost by accident, in the sense that Riki didn’t plan the lie in advance so much as produce it instantly, under pressure, with the specific improvisational skill of someone who’d apparently been quietly preparing for this exact moment without telling anyone, including himself. It was maybe forty minutes into the party, the living room already a wall of noise, when Jay turned around mid-conversation and said, to no one in particular, “where’d Jungwon go?” Riki, standing two feet away with a cup in his hand, didn’t even blink. “Bathroom.”

“He’s been gone a while.”

“Stomach thing. Pregame nerves, probably hit him late.” Riki said it with such total, unbothered conviction that even he seemed mildly impressed with himself afterward, recounting it later to Jungwon like he’d just pulled off a heist. “Should probably give him some privacy, honestly. Not a great scene in there right now, I’d imagine.” Jay made a face. “Gross. Okay. Tell him to drink water.”

“Will do, Captain.” The second Jay turned away, Riki allowed himself exactly one slow exhale of relief before pulling his phone out and typing, with the gravity of a man reporting from the field: covered for you. stomach thing. you owe me forever. Jungwon — who was, in fact, not in the bathroom at all, but in the kitchen with you, half-hidden behind the open refrigerator door under the thin cover story of getting a drink — read the text and laughed out loud, which made you ask what was funny, which made him show you, which made you laugh too, the two of you ducking further behind the fridge door like that added any real concealment at all. “He’s never going to let this go,” Jungwon said. “He’s never going to let what go specifically — the lie, or the leverage?”

“Both. Definitely both.”

Near midnight a freshman approached and flirted with Jungwon, a girl from his econ discussion section who’d apparently decided that a qualifier win was the right occasion to finally act on whatever interest she’d been nursing since week one, and she found him by the drinks table with a confidence that suggested she had no idea — none at all — what she was walking into. “You were so good tonight,” she said, hand finding his forearm, easy and familiar in a way that made something in your chest go tight and hot the second you spotted it from across the room. “Like, genuinely incredible. I didn’t know freshmen could even play like that.”

“Thanks.” Jungwon’s voice was polite, a little distant, the specific tone of someone being friendly without encouraging anything, but he wasn’t pulling his arm away either, too caught up in the general adrenaline of the night to fully register what was happening. You watched for exactly eleven seconds before you decided you’d watched enough. “Hey.” You inserted yourself into the conversation with more edge than you meant to, hooking a hand into Jungwon’s other arm like it was the most natural thing in the world, which — to anyone watching, you reminded yourself, it absolutely had to look like, since nobody here knew. “Jongseong’s looking for you. Something about the highlight reel.”

“Oh — yeah, I should—” Jungwon, to his credit, picked up on the temperature shift immediately, even half a beer in, and extracted himself from the girl’s hand with an easy, “good game tonight, good luck on the econ midterm,” before letting you steer him away by the arm without any real resistance. The second you’d put enough distance between yourselves and the drinks table, he was already grinning. “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad.”

“You’re a little mad.”

“I am not — Jongseong does not actually want you, that was a lie, I made that up.” You let go of his arm like you’d only just realized you were still holding it, crossing your own instead, which did nothing to disguise how transparent you currently were. “I just didn’t feel like watching that.”

“Watching what.”

“You know what.”

“I genuinely don’t, you’re going to have to use words.” He was enjoying this far too much, falling into step beside you toward the stairs, something delighted and a little smug working at the corner of his mouth. “Say it.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“Say it or I go back and ask her what the econ midterm’s actually about, since you brought it up.”

“Fine.” You stopped on the stairs, turning to face him, irritated mostly at yourself now for how easily he’d gotten this out of you. “I didn’t like watching some girl touch your arm and call you incredible. There. Happy?”

“Very happy.” He said it so simply, so plainly delighted, that some of your irritation softened into something else despite your best efforts. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous, I’m — annoyed. On principle.”

“That’s jealous with extra steps.” He caught your hand, tugging you the rest of the way up the stairs toward his room, the party noise dropping away behind the closing door. “I like it, for the record. Watching your whole face do that.”

“Don’t make this a thing.”

“Too late,” he said, against your mouth, already kissing you. “It’s already a thing.” You shoved him back onto the bed with more force than the moment strictly required, and he went easily, laughing low under his breath, hands finding your waist as you climbed over him, straddling his hips before either of you had bothered with much in the way of preamble. “Still jealous?” he murmured, hands sliding up your sides under your shirt.

“Shut up.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Jungwon.” You pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere you didn’t bother tracking, and the sight of him underneath you — flushed, win-high, looking at you like you were the only thing that had happened all night that actually mattered — undid the last of your patience. “Less talking.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You worked his belt open with quick, certain hands, and he watched you do it with his jaw tight, breath already gone uneven, hands gripping your hips like he was holding himself back from taking over entirely. When you finally freed him, hard and already aching, he let out a low, rough groan that you felt all the way down. “Tell me you want this,” he breathed, even now, even like this, the same checking he always did. “I’m on top of you right now. What does it look like.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I want this. I want you.” The honesty of it surprised you a little, coming out unguarded, but you didn’t take it back. You sank down onto him slow, both of you groaning at the slick, tight slide of it, and for a second you just stayed there, adjusting, his hands flexing against your hips like he was fighting every instinct to thrust up into you before you were ready. “Fuck — you feel — “ He cut himself off with a sharp exhale as you started to move, slow at first, finding a rhythm, his head tipping back against the pillow, throat working.

“This okay?” you asked, breathless, already rolling your hips again. “More than okay. God, look at you.” His hands slid up to your tits, thumbs brushing your nipples until you gasped, your rhythm faltering for a second before you found it again, faster now, chasing the building heat low in your stomach. “That’s it,” he groaned, hips finally rising to meet yours, the drag of him inside you hitting deeper at this angle, dragging a moan out of you that you didn’t bother muffling. “Ride me just like that — fuck, you’re so good, you have no idea—”

“Jungwon—”

“I know. I’ve got you.” His hand found your clit, thumb pressing tight, deliberate circles in time with your movement, and the combination had your moans climbing fast, breathless, your nails dragging down his chest. “You looked so good tonight,” you breathed, barely coherent, rolling your hips faster. “On the ice. I couldn’t stop watching you.”

“Yeah?” Something in his voice cracked open at that, rougher, more desperate. “Tell me again.”

“You were incredible.” You said it again, deliberately, watching the way it undid him, hips snapping up harder to meet yours. “Best on the ice. Better than anyone.”

“Fuck — “ His grip on your hips tightened, guiding your pace faster, deeper, the tip of him dragging against that spot inside you that had your vision sparking white at the edges. “Say it again—”

“Best player out there,” you gasped, close now, every word coming apart at the edges. “Mine — “ That seemed to do something to him entirely, a rough, broken sound tearing out of his throat as his thrusts turned faster, less controlled, chasing the same edge you were chasing, and when you finally tipped over it was with his name breaking out of you, walls clenching tight around him as he followed seconds later, spilling into you with a groan he pressed into your collarbone, hips stuttering through the last of it.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing hard, his arms coming up around you loose and unhurried, like he had no intention of letting go anytime soon. “Hey,” you said, eventually, into the quiet, your cheek still pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow back down. “I’m proud of you. For tonight. For real, not just — “ you gestured vaguely at the bed, the obvious aftermath of it. “For the game. You were really, genuinely incredible out there.” Jungwon went quiet for a second, his hand stilling where it had been tracing slow, idle patterns against your back, and when he finally spoke, his voice had lost all of its earlier teasing. “Nobody’s said that to me tonight. Not like that.” A pause. “Jongseong said it loud, in front of everyone. Riki said it because he’s my best friend and he has to. You’re the first person who said it just to me. Quiet. Like you meant it specifically.”

“I did mean it specifically.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, settling you further into his chest, his fingers finding yours and lacing them together against his stomach, slow and easy, the most unhurried, domestic gesture either of you had managed yet. “I like this part. After. Just this.”

“Yeah,” you admitted, quiet, letting yourself mean it without flinching for once. “Me too.” Neither of you said the word that was sitting in the room with you, obvious and unspoken, but you both heard it anyway, in the silence, in the way his heartbeat hadn’t gone all the way back to normal yet, in the way you’d stopped pretending, even to yourself, that this was still just convenient.

The team’s covering operation had, by this point in the season, developed an almost professional structure to it, and Jake — somewhat to his own surprise — had ended up running point on the version of it that covered for you specifically, rather than Jungwon, in a way that felt less like keeping a secret and more like something closer to actual brotherly instinct kicking in where Jay’s couldn’t. It started small. Jay would ask, casually, where you’d gotten to after a party, and Jake would have an answer ready before the question had even fully landed — “she left with Sunoo,” or “she said she was tired, headed back to the dorm early,” delivered with such easy, bored conviction that Jay never once thought to push further. It wasn’t even really lying, most of the time, just a careful management of which true things got said out loud and which got quietly left out, and Jake did it with the same instinctive ease he’d cover for any of his actual teammates, except this time the teammate he was protecting was you. “You don’t have to do that,” you told him once, catching him right after he’d smoothly redirected Jay away from asking why you’d been at the Den three nights running. “I know I don’t have to.” Jake shrugged, like it cost him nothing, which — Jake being Jake — it probably genuinely didn’t. “I’ve watched you get treated like property by every guy who’s ever looked at you twice on this campus, Y/N. Watching Jungwon actually be good to you, and good for you, is the first time I’ve actually wanted to help one of these situations instead of running it off.” He bumped your shoulder, easy, the same brotherly affection he’d had for you since you were sixteen. “Plus he climbed a drainpipe for you. I respect the commitment.”

“You heard about the drainpipe?”

“Everyone heard about the drainpipe. Riki couldn’t keep that one to himself for more than six hours.”

The sloppiness crept in gradually, the way it always does — not one specific reckless decision but a slow accumulation of smaller ones, each individually defensible, collectively a problem. You stopped checking the hallway before leaving Jungwon’s room. He stopped waiting the full ten minutes before following you down to a party. You held his hand under the kitchen table once during a group dinner and didn’t notice you’d done it until Heeseung’s eyes flicked down and back up again, saying nothing, filing it away with the same quiet discretion he applied to everything.

Riki, increasingly, found himself in the position of full-time alibi generator, a role he’d apparently decided to take seriously enough to develop a rotating cast of excuses so he wouldn’t repeat himself in front of Jay. “Stomach thing again?” Jungwon asked once, amused, after overhearing Riki deploy it for the third time that month. “I can’t keep using stomach thing, Jay’s gonna think you have a chronic illness.” Riki looked genuinely affronted at the suggestion. “I’ve diversified. Library. Equipment fitting. One time I said you were ‘processing the loss emotionally’ after a game we won, which in retrospect was a mistake, because Jay actually came to check on you and I had to improvise an entire secondary lie on the spot.”

“You told him I was sad after a win?”

“I panicked! You were not in the building, Jungwon, I needed something fast!”

It was Heeseung, in the end, with his usual quiet bluntness, who said the thing that pushed you both toward an actual conversation about what exactly you were doing. “You two are being sloppy,” he said, apropos of nothing, while you were both in the kitchen at the same time for once without any real cover story prepared, his voice pitched low enough that it wasn’t a public confrontation, just an observation meant for the two of you. “Not in a ‘someone definitely knows’ way yet. In a ‘it’s only a matter of time’ way.”

“We’re being careful,” Jungwon said, automatically, though even he didn’t sound especially convinced. “You held her hand under the table on Tuesday. I watched it happen. Jay was four feet away.” Heeseung took a sip of his coffee, unbothered, delivering the rest like a weather report rather than an accusation. “I’m not telling you to stop. I’m telling you that whatever you’re doing right now isn’t a secret thing anymore, it’s a secret-shaped thing that everyone already knows the shape of. The only person who doesn’t know is Jay, and that’s getting harder to maintain every single week.” Neither of you had a response to that. Heeseung, satisfied he’d made his point, simply finished his coffee and left the room, and the silence he left behind sat heavy enough that you finally looked at each other and both understood, without saying it yet, that something needed to actually be decided.

It happened that same night, quieter than either of you expected — no big declaration, no dramatic setup, just the two of you lying in his bed in the dark, his fingers tracing slow shapes against your bare shoulder, the kind of stillness that made honesty easier than it usually was. “Can I ask you something,” Jungwon said, into the quiet. “Mm.”

“What are we doing.” You didn’t answer right away, not because you didn’t have one, but because you’d been avoiding the question so deliberately for so long that actually hearing it out loud felt strange, like a word you’d practiced saying in private finally being spoken in front of someone else. “I don’t know what we’re calling it.”

“I know what I want to call it.” He said it simply, no hesitation in it at all, the same steady certainty he’d had since the very first night, since before you’d even properly known his name. “I haven’t been seeing anyone else. I haven’t wanted to. I don’t want some random freshman from your econ section thinking she has a shot, and I really don’t want some guy at a party thinking he does either.” A small pause. “I want this to actually be something. Not just — convenient. Not just a secret. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, even if nobody else gets to know that yet.” You let that sit for a second, feeling the actual weight of it land somewhere real in your chest, and then you turned to face him fully in the dark. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Exclusive. Just us.” You felt something loosen in your chest as you said it, like a held breath finally let go. “I haven’t wanted anyone else either, if that wasn’t obvious from the jealousy thing.”

“It was very obvious.” He was smiling, you could hear it even without seeing it clearly. “I liked the jealousy thing a lot, for the record.”

“I know you did. You’re insufferable about it.”

“I’m allowed to be insufferable. My girlfriend’s jealous over me. That’s a good day.” He tried the word out like he was testing the weight of it, girlfriend, and something about the easy way he landed on it — like he’d been holding it ready for weeks, waiting for permission to use it — made you press closer into him, burying the small, helpless smile against his chest before he could see the full shape of it. “Don’t get used to saying that out loud,” you murmured. “Not yet. Not where anyone can hear.”

“I know.” Some of the lightness faded out of his voice, the reality of the actual logistics settling back in. “Soon, though. Right? We’re not doing this forever.”

“Soon,” you agreed, and didn’t let yourself think too hard about how soon soon actually needed to be, or what it would cost when it finally happened.

Sunghoon came out to the team on an entirely unrelated Tuesday, with none of the ceremony he’d apparently been bracing for, during a postpractice stretch session that had devolved, as most of them did, into nonsense. “I’m gonna say something and I need everyone to not make it weird,” he announced, to the room generally, mid-stretch, with the specific tension of someone who’d clearly rehearsed the moment and chosen the most low-stakes possible setting to finally do it. “Oh god, are you quitting hockey,” Jake said immediately. “Don’t quit hockey, we need you for the power play—”

“I’m not quitting hockey. I’m gay.” The room went quiet for exactly one second. “Okay,” Heeseung said, easily, already going back to his own stretch like Sunghoon had just announced the weather. “Cool.”

“That’s — that’s it? That’s the reaction?”

“What reaction did you want?” Jake looked genuinely confused. “Bro, we know. We’ve known. You’ve been weird about Sunoo for two months, you think we didn’t clock that?”

“I — okay, I knew you guys clocked the Sunoo thing, but I meant, like, generally—”

“We know generally too,” Riki put in, helpfully unhelpful. “I think Heeseung called it back in like September.”

“I called it the first week,” Heeseung corrected, mildly offended at the underselling of his own detective work. “It’s not, like, a thing, man,” Jake said, more gently now, sitting up properly to actually look at Sunghoon instead of just talking past him. “You’re still you. You’re still the guy who’s weirdly competitive about stretching and once cried during a dog food commercial—”

“That was one time and the dog was sick in the commercial, that’s a valid reaction—”

“You’re still our guy. That’s the whole thing. Nothing about that changes because you said the actual words out loud instead of us just all politely knowing.” Jake grinned, the tension fully gone from the room now. “Although I will say, the Sunoo thing makes a lot more sense now in terms of timeline. I thought you were just developing a coffee addiction for a while there.”

“I don’t even like coffee.”

“I KNOW, that’s what tipped me off, you kept buying it and not drinking it, it was clearly a Sunoo-adjacent purchase—” Sunghoon, somewhere in the middle of the room’s easy, immediate, unbothered acceptance, looked like a man who’d spent considerably longer bracing for this moment than the actual moment had required, and Jungwon — watching from across the room, his own secret still folded carefully out of sight — felt something complicated move through his chest. Relief, for Sunghoon, that this house was exactly the kind of place where something like that could land soft. And underneath it, quieter, a feeling he didn’t examine too closely: the knowledge that his own reveal, whenever it finally came, was not going to land anywhere near this gently. He thought about you, across the room and thought, not for the first time, that soon was a word doing a lot of work to put off something that was eventually going to come due no matter how careful you both stayed.

—

The quarterfinal landed on October 12th, which Jay had been complaining about since the schedule first dropped over the summer — “of course it’s on our actual birthday, of course the conference hates me specifically” — though the complaining had always had a performative edge to it, since everyone in the house knew Jay would rather play a quarterfinal on his birthday than not play one at all. You’d been planning the surprise party for two weeks, in increments small enough that nobody outside the inner circle had noticed: a quiet text chain with Heeseung about decorations, a grocery run with Riki that he’d disguised as “team snacks” when Jay asked, a cake order picked up that morning and hidden in the trunk of Sunoo’s car like contraband. The whole house had folded into the conspiracy with an enthusiasm that surprised even you — Sunghoon handling the lights, Jake in charge of the playlist, Heeseung quietly making sure there was enough food to feed forty hockey players without it looking suspicious in the fridge beforehand.

Jungwon’s job was the hardest one, and you’d given it to him on purpose: keep Jay distracted enough after the game that nobody had to rush the setup. “You’re sure he won’t notice anything’s off,” Jungwon asked, the night before, lying beside you with his chin propped on his hand. “He’s terrible at noticing things that aren’t directly related to hockey or me. You’ve watched him miss four separate hints about his own surprise party already. He thinks we’re doing dinner. A small dinner. That’s it.”

“And the call thing?”

“My job. I’ll handle my job. You handle yours — keep him in the locker room long enough, talk hockey at him, whatever it takes.”

“I can talk hockey at him for hours. That part’s not hard.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, easy, settling further into the pillow. “Happy almost-birthday, by the way. Twenty-one’s a big one.”

“Don’t remind me. I feel ancient.”

“You’re the same age as your brother, you’ve always been this age relative to him, nothing’s changing.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

Blackwood won the quarterfinal 5–2, Jay scoring twice and assisting on a third, playing like a man who’d decided his birthday came with an obligation to be the best version of himself on the ice, and the locker room afterward was loud with the specific giddy exhaustion of a team that knew it was one step closer to the Cup. Jungwon found Jay by his stall, still half in his gear, and did exactly what he’d promised — kept him there, breaking down the third goal frame by frame, asking deliberately long questions about reads and lane choices that he already understood perfectly well, buying every minute he could.

Across the room, you were on the phone, your voice pitched loud enough to carry. “Mom wants to FaceTime him the second he’s out of the shower, she’s been texting me nonstop, she says happy birthday like four times already and wants to actually see his face—” It worked exactly as planned. By the time Jay finally extracted himself from Jungwon’s increasingly elaborate hockey questions and took the call from your parents in the hallway outside the locker room — your mother’s voice audible even through the phone, your father in the background insisting on singing the first two lines of happy birthday badly, on purpose, the way he had every year since you were both kids — the entire team had already loaded into cars and beaten you both back to the Den, where Heeseung’s lights were up, Jake’s playlist was queued, and Sunoo had the cake set up on the kitchen counter with twenty-one candles that had taken Riki three attempts to actually light because the lighter kept giving out.

You walked Jay through the front door fifteen minutes later, phone call wrapped up, still mid-sentence about something your mom had said, and the entire house erupted at once — lights up, music starting, a chorus of “SURPRISE” loud enough that Jay actually flinched, one hand flying to his chest like his heart had genuinely stopped for a second. “You—” He turned on you immediately, half-laughing, half-betrayed. “The FaceTime was a setup.”

“The FaceTime was real, Mom does want to call you later, I just needed you distracted for twenty minutes.”

“I can’t believe you used our parents as a smokescreen—”

“I can’t believe it worked this well, honestly, you’re shockingly easy to fool.” He pulled you into a hug before you’d finished the sentence, the kind that lifted you half off your feet, laughing into your hair. “Happy birthday to you too, by the way. We’re the same age, idiot, this is also your party.”

“I know. Co-birthday king and queen. I expect a toast.”

“You’ll get several toasts. Jake’s already written something, I can see it on his face, he’s been holding it in all night.” He had, in fact, written something, and it was exactly as unhinged as advertised — a toast that started sincere, devolved into a list of increasingly embarrassing stories about Jay from freshman year, and ended with Jake actually getting a little emotional about “the best captain and the most tolerant sister a team’s ever been lucky enough to share a house with,” which got a genuine cheer from the room and a swat to the back of the head from Jay, who was visibly moved and trying very hard not to show it.

The party ran late, the good kind of late, the kind where nobody’s watching the clock because nobody wants the night to end — cake, then dancing, then somebody’s questionable decision to bring out the karaoke machine that lived in the Den’s basement for occasions exactly like this one, Jay and Jake butchering a duet so badly that Heeseung had to leave the room to compose himself. You danced with your brother for one whole song, the two of you doing the same ridiculous, half-choreographed bit you’d been doing at every birthday since you were fourteen, and across the room you caught Jungwon watching, something soft and unguarded on his face that he didn’t bother hiding for once, since nobody was paying close enough attention to notice. By two in the morning, the house had finally gone quiet — bodies passed out across couches, Jay asleep sitting up in an armchair with cake frosting still on his collar, Riki face-down on the floor for reasons nobody had bothered to investigate, Sunoo and Sunghoon curled into each other on the porch swing outside, low voices and easy laughter drifting in through the screen door. The kind of ending a good party earns. “Come on,” Jungwon said quietly, finding you in the kitchen surveying the wreckage of cake and cups. “I’ll walk you back.”

The campus at two in the morning had a particular hush to it, streetlights doing most of the work, your footsteps the loudest sound for blocks. Jungwon had his hands in his pockets, walking close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every few steps, neither of you in any real hurry to get where you were going. “Good birthday?” he asked. “Best one in years, honestly. Jongseong cried a little during Jake’s toast and he’s going to deny it forever, so that alone made the whole night worth it.”

“I have something for you. For your actual birthday, not the team thing.” He pulled a small, carefully wrapped box out of his jacket pocket — he’d clearly been carrying it all night, waiting for a quiet moment that wasn’t surrounded by forty other people — and held it out, a little sheepish in a way you rarely got to see on him. “It’s not much. I wanted to give it to you without an audience.” You unwrapped it slowly, under the streetlight outside your dorm, and found a thin silver chain inside, a small charm hanging from it shaped like a tiny hockey puck, and on the back, when you turned it over, your birthday engraved in careful, small lettering alongside a single date you recognized immediately — the night of the party, three months ago, when this whole impossible thing had started. “Jungwon.”

“I know it’s a weird thing to commemorate. I just—” He rubbed the back of his neck, the first genuinely nervous gesture you’d seen out of him in weeks. “I wanted something that was just ours. Something nobody else would know the meaning of if they saw it. You could wear it and nobody would ever know what it actually means, except you. Except us.” You didn’t say anything for a second, just looked at it, the weight of how much thought had clearly gone into something this small landing somewhere soft and unguarded in your chest, and when you looked back up at him, he was watching you with the specific, quiet hope of someone who genuinely wasn’t sure how the gift would be received. “I love it,” you said, finally. “I love it so much.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You let him fasten it around your neck right there under the streetlight, his fingers careful at the clasp, and when he was done you turned and kissed him — slow, unhurried, none of the urgency from earlier in the semester, just the easy, settled kind of kiss that came from three months of knowing exactly how this felt and not being in any rush to stop feeling it. “Best birthday gift I’ve gotten in years,” you murmured, against his mouth. “Good. That was the goal.” He kissed you again, lingering, his hand coming up to rest against the curve of your jaw. “Happy birthday.”

“Hey,” you said, pulling back just far enough to look at him properly, an idea you’d been sitting on for a week finally finding its moment. “There’s a festival next weekend. Off campus, like an hour out — Sunoo’s been talking about it for weeks, lights and music and the whole thing. I want you to come with me.”

“An hour off campus.” Something in his face shifted, considering it properly. “That’s far enough that nobody from the team would just stumble into us.”

“That’s the point.”

“You’re asking me on an actual date. A real one. Outside the Den, outside parties, outside all of this.” He said it slowly, like he was turning the idea over, savoring it a little. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me something like that since September.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s the easiest yes I’ve ever given anyone.” He pulled you back in, forehead resting against yours, both of you smiling too wide for the hour, for how tired you should have been, for how much you still had left to figure out about the rest of this. “I’d go anywhere with you. An hour’s nothing.” You stood there a while longer under the streetlight, in no hurry at all, the small silver puck resting warm against your collarbone, neither of you saying out loud the thing you were both clearly thinking — that a real date, an hour off campus, away from anyone who might recognize either of you, felt like the first real crack of daylight after months spent entirely in the dark. Like maybe, soon, you wouldn’t have to keep choosing between him and the rest of your life.

The week leading up to the festival passed in a way that felt almost suspiciously easy, and Jungwon noticed it more than once — the specific, unguarded lightness of just being happy, without the usual undercurrent of calculation running underneath it. He caught himself smiling at nothing during an econ lecture. Caught Riki noticing him do it. “You’ve been weird all week,” Riki said, eyeing him over a stats problem set neither of them were actually working on. “Weird good, though. Like, suspiciously content. It’s unsettling, honestly, I’m used to you having at least one low-grade crisis going at all times.”

“I don’t have crises.”

“You have constant crises, you just hide them well. This week you’ve had zero. I noticed.” Riki narrowed his eyes. “Something’s happening this weekend. You’ve got a bag packed already and it’s Tuesday.”

“We’re going to a festival.”

“You’re going somewhere overnight with a bag packed four days early for a day festival. Those numbers don’t add up, my friend.”

Jungwon didn’t dignify that with an answer, mostly because Riki wasn’t wrong, and the not-answering was its own kind of confirmation that Riki accepted with a satisfied, knowing nod and went back to his problem set, humming something annoyingly pleased with himself under his breath.

You’d booked the hotel two weeks in advance, a small, unfussy place near the festival grounds that you’d found mostly because it was far enough out that nobody from Blackwood would plausibly be staying there too, and you’d told Jungwon all of it with the same deliberate, slightly nervous energy of someone planning something that mattered more to her than she wanted to admit out loud.

“Friday to Sunday,” you’d said, showing him the booking on your phone. “Festival’s Friday, but I figured — we never get an actual weekend. Just us. No covering for anyone, no checking the hallway first.”

“Friday to Sunday,” he’d repeated, something settling and pleased moving across his face. “I like that math a lot.”

Sunoo and Sunghoon were going too — officially, publicly, the easiest couple in the entire group now that Sunghoon’s coming out had cleared whatever quiet tension used to sit underneath their dynamic — and the four of you drove out together Friday afternoon, windows down, Sunoo controlling the music with the same merciless authority he applied to most things, Sunghoon driving with one hand permanently finding Sunoo’s knee whenever a song he liked came on. “This is so much better than sneaking around,” Sunoo announced, from the front seat, twisting around to grin at the two of you in the back. “You two get to have, like, a real weekend. With us. As an actual couple thing. Double date energy. I’ve been waiting for this since September.”

“We’re not technically a public couple yet,” you reminded him.

“You’re public to us. That’s basically the same thing, just smaller scale.”

The festival itself was everything Sunoo had promised — string lights strung between food trucks, a stage at the far end of the field playing through a lineup of bands neither of you fully recognized, the whole grounds lit gold as the sun went down. And for the first time since the party back in September, you got to just be a couple in public — Jungwon’s hand finding yours without either of you checking who might be watching first, his arm slung easy around your shoulders while you waited in line for festival food, both of you laughing at something stupid Sunoo said without the automatic, practiced half-second of distance you usually kept in case anyone from the Den happened to be nearby. “This is so weird,” you admitted, leaning into his side as the two of you watched some local band finish their set. “Good weird. I keep waiting for the part where I have to let go of your hand.”

“You don’t have to let go of my hand.” He squeezed it, like he was making the point physically as well as out loud. “Not here. Not this weekend.”

“I know. It’s just — new. Being normal about it.”

“I could get used to normal.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, easy, unhurried, the kind of casual public affection that would’ve sent your heart into your throat back at the Den and here just felt like exhaling. “We should do this more.”

“We will. Eventually. Just — not yet.” He didn’t push on the not yet, the way he’d stopped pushing on it weeks ago, content for now with the version of normal a weekend an hour outside of everyone’s orbit could actually offer. Sunghoon bought Sunoo a ridiculous oversized stuffed animal from one of the carnival games after missing the target six times and finally landing it on the seventh, to a level of triumphant celebration that drew the attention of half the surrounding crowd, and Sunoo carried it around for the rest of the night like a trophy, occasionally hitting Sunghoon with it when he said something he found insufficiently romantic.

You got back to the hotel late, well past midnight, festival dust still on your shoes, and the second the door clicked shut behind you, Jungwon had you pressed gently back against it, his mouth finding yours unhurried but certain. “Good night?” he murmured, against your lips. “Best one in a while.” You let your hands slide up under his shirt, the festival heat and the long day and months of careful waiting all collapsing into one slow, building want. “Come to bed.”

He undressed you slow, the same deliberate care he’d had since the very first night, like the weekend stretching ahead of you had taken away any reason to rush. He laid you back against the hotel sheets, mouth tracing the same patient path down your throat, your chest, lower, and when his fingers finally found your folds, already slick from the whole night of anticipation, he groaned low against your skin. “We’ve got all weekend,” he said, glancing up at you, something dark and unhurried in his eyes. “No reason to rush any of it.”

He took his time proving that, working you open with slow, deliberate fingers until you were gasping his name into the quiet of the room, and when he finally settled over you and pushed in, the rhythm he found was slow and grinding, deep, drawing soft, breathy moans out of you that built steadily rather than rushing toward anything. “Look at you,” he breathed, watching your face with open, unguarded want. “We’ve got two more nights of this. I’m not in a hurry tonight.” He kept that promise. The first time was slow, drawn-out, both of you trading low praise and his name and yours back and forth until you came apart around him with a soft, broken sound, his own release following unhurried moments later. The second time, near dawn, was slower still, lazier, half-asleep limbs and unhurried kisses until neither of you could tell anymore where the festival ended and the rest of the weekend began.

Saturday morning arrived late, neither of you bothering to leave the bed until room service knocked, and you spent a solid hour tangled in the sheets eating pancakes off the same plate, his fingers occasionally stealing bites off your fork just to watch you swat at him. “This is what I want,” you said at one point, syrup-sticky and entirely unguarded, watching him steal another piece of bacon. “Just this. Mornings like this, except not just on a weekend an hour from campus.”

“Soon,” he said, the word that had become something like a promise between you over the last few weeks, and this time it landed differently — closer, more real, like the gap between soon and now had finally started to close.

You spent Saturday afternoon wandering the small downtown near the hotel, ducking into shops mostly for the fun of it, Jungwon buying you a ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’d tried on as a joke and then genuinely loved, you talking him into a soft, oversized sweater he swore he’d never wear outside this trip and absolutely would, in fact, wear constantly once you got back. Sunoo texted updates from his and Sunghoon’s parallel afternoon — we got matching bracelets I’m going to cry — and you sent back a photo of Jungwon in his new sweater with the caption we’re matching in spirit. By Saturday night you were both too sun-tired and festival-worn to do much more than order room service again and fall asleep tangled together by ten, and Sunday morning came too fast, the drive back to campus quieter than the drive out had been, all four of you a little subdued at the idea of stepping back into a world where this version of things — easy, public, unguarded — had to fold itself small again.

“I don’t want to go back to hiding it,” you said quietly, somewhere on the drive, your head against Jungwon’s shoulder, watching the festival grounds disappear behind you through the back window. “I know.” His arm tightened around you, his voice low enough that it was just for you, even with Sunoo and Sunghoon talking quietly up front. “We won’t have to. Not forever.”

The drive back from the festival had the particular quiet of a good weekend ending — not sad, exactly, just settling, everyone a little sun-worn and content, Sunoo’s playlist gone soft and slow for the last hour of the trip in a way that matched the mood better than anything from Friday’s drive out. Sunghoon dropped you and Sunoo off first, your dorm closer to the highway exit than the Den, and the goodbye had its own small chaos — Sunoo hugging you so hard you nearly lost your footing, already texting in the group chat about “the best weekend of my entire life, I’m emotional, don’t talk to me,” Sunghoon leaning out the driver’s window to tell Jungwon something about practice schedules that was really just an excuse to keep the car parked a few extra minutes.

You climbed out last, your bag over one shoulder, and Jungwon got out too, rounding the car to walk you the short distance to the dorm entrance even though it was barely twenty feet, because apparently three days of being an actual couple in public had made him reluctant to let the smallest goodbye go un-marked. “This was the best weekend I’ve had in years,” you told him, under the dorm’s overhead light, voice still a little rough with the particular exhaustion that comes from too much sun and too little sleep and exactly the right amount of everything else. “Best one I’ve ever had.” He said it simply, with no exaggeration in it at all, like he’d actually run the comparison in his head and landed on the truth of it. “I don’t want to go back to checking hallways.”

“I know. We won’t, soon.”

“Soon,” he agreed, and pulled you in for a last kiss right there under the light, slow and unhurried despite Sunghoon’s car idling at the curb, his hand coming up to cup your jaw the same way it had the very first night, except nothing about this kiss carried any of that night’s uncertainty. This one knew exactly what it was. “Go,” you murmured, eventually, laughing against his mouth. “Sunghoon’s going to start honking.”

“Let him.”

“Jungwon.”

“Fine. Going.” He kissed you once more, quick, like he couldn’t quite help himself, then backed away toward the car with obvious reluctance, already calling over his shoulder, “text me when you’re inside.”

“I’m twenty feet from the door.”

“Text me anyway.” You watched the car pull away before you went in, and true to his word, your phone buzzed before you’d even gotten your key in the lock.

jungwon: best weekend of my life. thank you for asking me.

you: thank you for climbing through my window in september. none of this happens without that.

jungwon: worth every inch of that drainpipe

The car ride to the Den was quieter, Sunghoon driving, Jungwon in the passenger seat with his phone still warm in his hand, the particular loose, contented quiet of someone who’d spent three days being exactly who he wanted to be without having to manage it. “You good?” Sunghoon asked, eyes on the road. “You’ve got a face.”

“What face.”

“The face you’ve had all weekend. The one where you look like someone hit you with a happiness truck and you haven’t fully recovered.” Sunghoon said it without judgment, mostly amused. “It’s a good look on you. Different from the usual broody thing.”

“I don’t do a broody thing.”

“You do an extensive broody thing, it’s just been on pause for three days.” Sunghoon pulled up outside the Den, cutting the engine. “You ready for the readjustment? Back to hallway-checking and stomach-thing alibis?”

“Not really.”

“Yeah. Figured.”

Jay was in the kitchen when they walked in, mid-conversation with Heeseung about something on his laptop, and he looked up the second the door opened with the easy, automatic attention of a captain checking who’d come home. “There he is. Where’ve you been all weekend? Riki said something about a festival, but he was being weird and cagey about it, which usually means he’s covering for somebody.” Jungwon felt the question land exactly where he’d known it would eventually land, and answered it the way he’d practiced in his head somewhere around hour two of the drive home, voice easy, unbothered, the specific calm he’d built a habit of deploying for exactly this purpose. “Went with Sunghoon. Sunoo wanted to go to that festival thing out near the lake, dragged us both along, figured it’d be good to get off campus for a weekend before the semester gets worse.” A small shrug, casual, nothing in it worth a second look. “Needed the break, honestly. Been a heavy few weeks.”

“Yeah, you’ve earned a weekend off.” Jay nodded, easy, already moving past it, no reason in his world yet to ask a follow-up question, because nothing about the answer had given him one. “Glad you went. You’ve looked tired lately, this is the first time in weeks you’ve looked like you actually slept.”

“I slept a lot.”

“Good. Need you sharp, we’ve got the semifinal in two weeks, I’m not losing my center to burnout right before that.” Jay clapped him once on the shoulder on his way past, the same easy, trusting gesture he’d been giving Jungwon since week one, completely unaware of how much weight that trust was currently carrying without his knowledge. “Go unpack. We’ll talk lines tomorrow.” Jungwon watched him go, the lie sitting easy and practiced in his chest, and felt — not for the first time, but more sharply than usual, the festival’s three days of honesty still warm in his memory — exactly how much it cost him to do this so smoothly. He was good at it. That had stopped feeling like something to be proud of weeks ago.

Sunghoon, beside him, didn’t say anything, just exhaled slow through his nose, the universal sound of someone watching a friend get better and better at something that was eventually going to catch up to him. “You’re really good at that,” Sunghoon said, finally, quiet, once Jay was out of earshot. “Yeah,” Jungwon said, and didn’t sound proud of it at all. “I know.”

Coach Anders had decided, with the semifinal now exactly two weeks out, that the only acceptable response to that fact was to make practice considerably worse for everyone involved, and Jay had taken to that decision with the specific zeal of a captain who agreed with it completely and intended to make sure the rest of the team did too. “Again,” Jay called, for what had to be the eighth time, as the line reset at the blue line. “We’re not running this drill again because it was bad. We’re running it again because it needs to be automatic. You shouldn’t have to think about this read by week fourteen of the season.”

“My legs are gone,” Jake announced, from somewhere near the bench, draped over the boards like a man who’d given up on dignity entirely.

“Good. That means it’s working.” Jay didn’t even look over, already skating back to center ice. “Yang, Riki, line up. Same read, full speed this time.”

Practice ran nearly forty minutes long that day, and longer the day after that, Coach standing at the bench with his arms crossed and his expression unreadable in the particular way that meant he was satisfied without wanting anyone to know it yet. Jungwon’s legs felt like they belonged to someone else by the time they finally got let off the ice, the good kind of exhausted, the kind that meant the work was actually sinking in.

Jay gathered them at center ice before letting anyone head for the showers, voice pitched in the low, even register he used when he meant something seriously. “Two weeks,” he said. “I know everyone’s tired. I’m tired. I don’t care. We’ve worked too hard this season to lose in the semis because we got comfortable in October.” His eyes moved across the group, the same way they always did, landing for half a second longer on his first line. “I need everyone locked in. No distractions. No slipping. We’ve got one shot at this and I’m not watching it fall apart over something stupid.” Jungwon felt that land somewhere uncomfortable in his chest, the word slipping hitting closer than Jay could possibly know he meant it.

You came by the Den that evening with a folder of notes Jay had texted you about twenty times asking for — something he’d left at your apartment after a study session weeks ago that he apparently needed for a presentation he’d been putting off — and you found the house in its usual post-practice wind-down, the smell of someone’s attempt at dinner drifting from the kitchen, the low murmur of a TV nobody was actually watching. “Finally,” Jay said, intercepting you in the front hallway before you’d even made it past the framed photo on the wall, snatching the folder out of your hands with the particular gracelessness of an exhausted older brother. “You’re a lifesaver. I would’ve actually failed this presentation.”

“You’re welcome. Next time, don’t leave your stuff at my place for three weeks before remembering you need it.”

“Noted. Ignored, probably, but noted.” He flipped through the folder to confirm everything was there, and in the process of doing so, his eyes caught on something at your collarbone, the small silver chain that had become such a constant fixture you’d genuinely forgotten, in this exact moment, that it was something worth noticing. “That’s new,” Jay said, tilting his head, studying the little charm hanging from it. “The necklace. I haven’t seen that before.” Your stomach did a slow, cold drop, the kind that came from being caught flat-footed by a question you should have seen coming and hadn’t prepared an answer for. “Oh — yeah. Just something I picked up.”

“Where? It’s cute. Looks expensive for a ‘picked up’ kind of thing.” He leaned in slightly, squinting at the small engraved charm without actually reaching for it, which was the only mercy currently available to you. “Is that a date on the back?”

“It’s — just a birthday thing. From myself. Treated myself.” The lie came out faster than you’d planned it, stacking itself on top of the truth so quickly you almost believed it yourself for a second. “You know. Twenty-one. Felt like an occasion.”

“Huh.” Jay studied it a beat longer, and for one suspended second you were certain he was going to ask the obvious next question — why would you buy yourself a hockey puck charm, you don’t even like hockey jewelry, you’ve made fun of mine for years — but exhaustion and a folder full of overdue coursework apparently won out over curiosity, and he just shrugged, already turning back toward the stairs. “Cute, though. Looks good on you.”

“Thanks.”

“Tell Sunoo I said hi. And tell Sunghoon he owes me ten bucks from the bet last week.”

“What bet?”

“Doesn’t matter, just tell him.” Jay was already halfway up the stairs, folder under his arm, the conversation closed in his mind as completely as it had opened.

You stood there for a long moment after he disappeared, your hand coming up unconsciously to touch the small charm at your collarbone, feeling the particular vertigo of having walked right up to the edge of something and stepped back from it by pure luck rather than any actual skill. Across the room, in the kitchen doorway, Jungwon had gone very still, having caught the entire exchange from a few feet away, and when your eyes finally met his, you both understood, without saying anything, exactly how close that had just been. “That was too close,” you said quietly, once you’d both retreated to the relative privacy of the back porch. “I know.” Jungwon’s jaw was tight, his eyes still on the doorway like Jay might reappear any second. “He was right there. One more second of looking at it and he would’ve asked the question that actually matters.”

“He didn’t, though.”

“This time.” Jungwon ran a hand through his hair, something frayed at the edges of his usual calm. “We’ve been doing this for four months. We just got lucky in there. That’s not the same as being careful.” You didn’t have a good response to that, mostly because he was right, and the two of you stood there in the cold evening air, the necklace warm and suddenly heavy against your skin, both quietly aware that the margin you’d been operating in had just gotten visibly thinner, and that luck, eventually, the way it always does, was going to run out.

—

You went to Jungwons to study and the studying had been real, at first — that was the part that would seem darkly funny to Jungwon later, in the version of this night he’d replay for weeks afterward, the fact that the thing that finally got them caught had started as something genuinely, boringly innocent. You’d come over with your laptop and a stack of flashcards for a psych exam, and Jungwon had his own econ readings spread across the bed because his desk was buried under hockey equipment he kept forgetting to put away, and the two of you had actually studied, properly, for almost an hour — quizzing each other, him stealing glances at your flashcards and making fun of your handwriting, you threatening to revoke his snack privileges if he kept distracting you.

The studying had stopped being the point somewhere around the time he’d leaned over to correct an answer on your flashcard and you’d turned your head at exactly the wrong — or right — moment, and what started as a normal, domestic kind of closeness had tipped, slow and easy and entirely without either of you deciding it on purpose, into something else. Flashcards forgotten on the floor. His laptop pushed aside. The particular unhurried quiet of two people who’d done this enough times now that there was no nervousness left in it at all, just familiarity, comfort, the specific ease of being completely known by someone.

Neither of you heard the door.

Jay had knocked — he’d insist on that later, loudly, repeatedly, as if it mattered — but the knock had landed in a gap between two things that weren’t paying attention to anything outside the room, and when nobody answered, he’d done what he always did at the Den, what he’d done a hundred times before without a second thought, because it was his team’s house and these were his guys and there had never, not once in three years, been a reason to think twice about opening a door that wasn’t locked.

“Hey, Jungwon, I need to ask you something about the line rush tomorrow—” The sentence didn’t finish. It just stopped, mid-air, the way a record stops when someone lifts the needle, and the silence that replaced it was the loudest sound Jungwon had ever heard in his life.

For one full second nobody moved. Jay stood frozen in the doorway, hand still on the handle, his expression doing something complicated and fast — confusion first, the brain’s split-second refusal to process what it was looking at, and then, almost instantly, the confusion burning off into something else entirely, something that didn’t have a soft landing anywhere underneath it.

Jungwon didn’t scramble. That would come a second later, the reflexive grab for a shirt, the half-formed motion of putting himself between you and the door, but in that very first second he just froze too, eye to eye with Jay across the room, and some old, certain part of him understood with total clarity that there was no version of the next ten seconds that ended anywhere good. “Get out,” Jay said. Flat. Quiet. Worse than yelling. He wasn’t talking to you. He couldn’t look at you.

His eyes were locked on Jungwon, and his voice, when it came again, had dropped even lower, which somehow made it land harder than volume would have. “Get dressed. Get downstairs. Now.” He turned and left before either of you could say a single word, the door left hanging open behind him, and the sound of his footsteps on the stairs was the sound of something detonating in slow motion, the blast wave still traveling, the real damage still about thirty seconds out.

By the time Jungwon made it down to the common room — shirt yanked on inside out, hands not quite steady, you two steps behind him with your own clothes hastily fixed, both of you moving on the kind of adrenaline that doesn’t leave room for thinking — the house had already started gathering, drawn by the sound of Jay’s voice carrying from the kitchen where he stood with his hands braced flat on the counter, head down, breathing like a man trying very hard not to put his fist through something.

Riki was already there, having apparently come downstairs to investigate the noise, and the look on his face when he caught sight of Jungwon was somewhere between sympathy and pure dread. Jake appeared from the den a second later, take-out container still in hand, taking in the scene with rapidly dawning horror. “Jongseong,” you started, “let me explain—”

“Explain what.” Jay’s head came up, and his voice cracked across the room loud enough that it didn’t matter anymore who heard it. “Explain how long this has been going on? Explain how many times I’ve asked where you were and gotten a lie back? Explain how every single person in this house apparently knew except me?” Nobody answered that. Jake’s eyes dropped to the floor. Riki’s jaw tightened. The silence itself was an answer, and Jay heard it land, his face going through something raw and furious all at once.

“You all knew.” He looked around the room, voice climbing now, no longer flat, no longer quiet. “You knew, and none of you said a word to me. I trusted every single one of you—”

“It wasn’t our secret to tell,” Heeseung said, low, the only person brave enough to say anything at all. “Don’t.” Jay’s voice cracked on the word. “Don’t you dare stand there and tell me about whose secret it was. She’s my sister.” He turned back to Jungwon, and whatever had been simmering under the flat, quiet anger from upstairs finally broke loose entirely. “I had one rule. One. I told you on day one, I told you to your face, and you shook my hand on the ice an hour later and let me believe you actually meant it.”

“Jongseong, I—”

“How long.” Jay was closing the distance now, chest heaving, and Jungwon — to his credit, to the credit of the discipline that made him good at everything he did — didn’t back away from it. “How long has this been happening. Don’t lie to me again, you’ve done enough of that already.”

“Since September.” Something in Jay’s face actually broke at that, the math of it landing visibly — four months, nearly the entire season, every single practice, every single game, every locker room conversation happening underneath something he’d had no idea about — and the breaking turned immediately back into rage because rage was easier to hold than the alternative. “Four months.” He shoved Jungwon, hard, both hands flat against his chest, hard enough that Jungwon actually stumbled back a step. “Four months of you standing next to me on the ice, four months of me trusting you with line calls, with the C someday, with everything, while you—”

“Jongseong, stop—” you tried to get between them, hand on your brother’s arm, but he shook you off, not violently, just completely focused on Jungwon now, advancing again. “You don’t get to touch her.” His voice had gone rough, half-wrecked. “You don’t get to look at me every single day at practice like nothing’s wrong while you’re—”

He shoved again, and this time Jungwon’s back hit the counter, and for a second it looked like it might actually become something neither of them could walk back from — Jay’s fist closing, his whole body coiled toward throwing the punch that had clearly been building since the second he opened that door — and that was when Jake and Heeseung both moved at once, Jake’s arms locking around Jay’s middle and hauling him back bodily, Heeseung grabbing his arm, both of them talking over each other, fast, low, hey, hey, not like this, not here—

Jungwon didn’t fight back. Didn’t even raise his hands to defend himself, just stood there and took the shove, which seemed to make something in Jay even angrier — like some part of him had wanted Jungwon to fight back, needed somewhere to put all of this that wasn’t just him screaming into a room that wouldn’t push back. “GET OFF ME—” Jay wrenched against Jake’s grip, and that’s when you stepped fully between them, voice cutting through everything else in the room, loud enough and furious enough that it actually stopped him.

“Stop it. STOP. Look at me.” Your voice broke on the last word, but you didn’t back down, standing your ground directly in the space between your brother and the boy he was trying to put a fist into. “You want to be mad? Be mad at me too, then, because I made every single one of these choices right alongside him. He doesn’t get to decide who I love.” Your voice cracked again, and you let it. “And neither do you.” The room went dead silent. Even Jay, still half-restrained by Jake’s grip, stopped pulling.

“He doesn’t get to decide who I love,” you said again, quieter now, but no less furious, “and you don’t either, Jongseong. I am not a rule on your team. I’m not something you get to protect by deciding for me. I’m twenty-one years old and I fell in love with someone, and I don’t care whose name was on a list you made up three years ago.”

Jay stared at you, chest still heaving, something in his face caving in around the edges in a way the anger hadn’t managed to do yet. “You’re in love with him.” It wasn’t really a question. It came out flat, hollowed out, like he was hearing the actual shape of what he’d walked in on for the first time, underneath all the rage. You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. The answer was already all over your face, and Jay saw it, and something about seeing it confirmed broke whatever had still been holding the anger together.

He went quiet. Genuinely quiet, the fight draining out of him all at once, Jake’s grip loosening because there was nothing left to restrain. He looked at Jungwon one more time — not with rage now, something worse, something flatter and more wounded. “I trusted you, Jungwon.” His voice had gone rough, almost gentle, which somehow landed harder than anything he’d shouted. “Out of everyone on this team. You.” He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked out, past all of them, out the front door into the night, and nobody followed him, because nobody in that room had any idea what they’d even say if they did.

The house didn’t go back to normal noise after that. It just sort of held its breath, everyone scattering into smaller, quieter clusters, nobody quite looking at you or Jungwon directly, the weight of the last five minutes still hanging thick in every room.

You found Jungwon upstairs, sitting on the edge of his bed exactly where the two of you had been studying an hour before, flashcards still scattered across the floor like nothing had happened, like the whole world hadn’t just come apart downstairs. He had his elbows on his knees, head down, and when you sat beside him he didn’t look up right away. “Hey.” You put a hand on his back, careful. “Look at me.”

When he finally did, his eyes were wet, and the sight of it — Jungwon, who never cried, who’d taken a shove to the chest downstairs without flinching — undid something in you faster than the whole fight had. “I ruined it,” he said, voice cracking. “The one thing he ever actually trusted me with. I told him I wouldn’t touch you and I — I broke it anyway, and I’d do it again, and I hate that about myself, I hate that I’m not even sorry—”

“Hey.” You pulled him into you, his head dropping against your shoulder, his arms finally coming around you like he needed something solid to hold onto. “I’m not sorry either. I can’t be sorry about you.” He cried quietly into your shoulder for a long time after that, and you just held him, neither of you saying anything else, because there wasn’t anything left to say that would fix what had just happened downstairs.

Blackwood played the semifinal four days later, and somehow, despite everything, despite a locker room that had gone quiet and brittle in a way Coach Anders clocked within the first five minutes of the first practice after, they won — 3–2, in overtime, a deflection off Jake’s stick that barely crossed the line before the horn sounded. It should have felt like the best night of the season. Instead it felt like survival. Jay hadn’t passed to Jungwon all night. Not once, not even when the lane was wide open, not even in overtime when every read on the ice screamed for it. Jungwon had noticed. The whole bench had noticed. Coach noticed most of all, and in the chaos of the locker room afterward, amid the relief and the exhaustion and the muted, uncertain celebration, he pulled both of them aside before anyone could even get their gear half off. “Park. Yang. My office. Now.”

The door clicked shut behind the three of them, and Coach Anders didn’t sit down, just stood there with his arms crossed, looking at both of them like a man who’d run out of patience an entire period ago and had only just now gotten the chance to say so. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t want the details.” His voice was level, but there was steel under it. “What I do know is that I watched my captain refuse to pass to his center for sixty minutes of playoff hockey tonight, and I watched us nearly lose a game we should have won by two goals because of it.” Neither of them said anything.

“We have the regional final in nine days. Whatever this is — and don’t tell me it’s nothing, I’ve coached long enough to know what a broken line looks like — you two figure it out. I don’t care how. I don’t care if you hate each other off the ice.” Coach’s jaw tightened. “But if you skate like that again next week, I will bench one of you myself, captain or not, and I will not lose sleep over it. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Coach,” Jungwon said, quiet. Jay didn’t answer at all. He just nodded once, jaw tight, and walked out without looking at either of them, and Jungwon stood there in the sudden quiet of the office, understanding with total clarity that the hardest part of all of this hadn’t even started yet.

The thing nobody had warned either of them about — because nobody had ever needed to before, in twenty-one years of being twins who occasionally fought and always, always talked it back out within a day — was how loud silence could actually be. Jay didn’t yell anymore after the night in the kitchen. That part, somehow, made it worse. He simply stopped. Stopped texting back. Stopped answering calls, then stopped letting them ring through at all, your name going straight to voicemail within the first week. Stopped looking at you when you were in the same room, which happened less and less because you’d quietly, painfully started avoiding the Den altogether, the one place that had felt like a second home for twenty-one years suddenly feeling like somewhere you weren’t welcome.

You tried, the first few days. Texts that got delivered but never answered. A voicemail you left, voice cracking halfway through, asking him to just call you back, just to talk, you didn’t even care if he yelled at you again as long as he said something. Nothing came back. Not a word. Not even the dismissive, irritated kind of nothing that meant he was still paying attention. Just an absence, total and deliberate, the kind that told you he’d made a decision and intended to hold it. “He’s never done this before,” you told Sunoo, one night, curled up on your dorm room floor with your phone face-down beside you because you couldn’t stand looking at the unanswered thread anymore. “Not once. Not ever. We’ve fought — God, we’ve fought about stupid stuff our whole lives, but it’s never lasted more than a day. We don’t know how to not talk to each other. I don’t know how to be a person without him answering when I call.”

“He’s hurting,” Sunoo said, careful, sitting beside you with a hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “That doesn’t make it okay that he’s doing this to you. But I don’t think this is really about punishing you. I think he genuinely doesn’t know what he’d say if he opened his mouth, so he’s choosing not to open it at all.”

“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”

“I know. I’m not saying it does.”

You didn’t tell Sunoo the rest of it — how you’d started reaching for your phone out of pure instinct a dozen times a day to send Jay something stupid, a meme, a complaint about a professor, the small constant traffic of two people who’d shared a womb and then a childhood and then this whole strange, public college life, and how every single time you caught yourself doing it, the realization that you couldn’t landed like a physical thing, a small fresh cut reopening in the same spot.

Jay wasn’t unaffected. He’d never have admitted that to anyone, least of all himself, but the proof of it sat in small, private moments nobody saw — him staring at your contact in his phone some nights, thumb hovering over the call button for whole minutes before he locked the screen and set it face-down on his desk. Once, badly, at three in the morning, he’d actually started typing something — I don’t know what to say to you right now but — before deleting it letter by letter and throwing the phone across his bed instead. He told himself it wasn’t about punishing you. He told himself a lot of things that week that he didn’t fully believe.

What he couldn’t tell himself a way out of was practice. He and Jungwon were still first line. Still had to be, with the regional final nine days out and Coach having made it unmistakably clear there was no alternative on the table. So they skated together, every single day, in a silence that had nothing companionable in it at all — Jay calling line changes and breakout patterns in the flattest voice anyone had ever heard out of him, never once including Jungwon’s name in anything that wasn’t strictly necessary.

He passed to everyone else. That was the part the whole team had clocked within the first practice back, and nobody said anything about it out loud because nobody knew how to say it without making things worse. Three-on-twos where Jungwon was the better read, and Jay sent it wide instead. Breakouts where the play sheet called for a direct feed up the middle, and Jay dumped it to the boards instead, conceding possession rather than putting the puck on his center’s stick. “Jongseong, why didn’t you pass?” Coach called out, the third time it happened in one practice, his patience visibly fraying.

“Saw a better option,” Jay said, flat, already skating back to the faceoff dot. “The better option was standing in open ice on the opposite side of the rink from where you actually shot it.” Jay didn’t answer that at all. He just lined up for the next drill, jaw locked, and ran it exactly the same way again.

The only time he spoke to Jungwon directly anymore was to yell — sharp, clipped corrections mid-drill, none of the easy back-and-forth they’d built over a season of trust, just you’re late on that read or cover the weak side, that’s basic positioning delivered in a voice that had nothing left in it of the guy who’d fist-bumped Jungwon at center ice in September and said welcome to the Wolves. Jungwon took every single one of them without arguing back, jaw tight, because arguing felt like it would only confirm to Jay that he’d never deserved the trust in the first place. “He’s doing this on purpose,” Riki said quietly to Heeseung, watching from the bench as Jay sent another pass wide of an open Jungwon. “He knows exactly what he’s costing us. He doesn’t care right now. That’s how mad he still is.”

“He cares,” Heeseung said. “That’s actually the whole problem. He cares so much it’s easier to be furious than to feel any of the rest of it.”

The locker room had gone strange too, the easy noise of September curdled into something careful and over-managed, everyone monitoring their own jokes for anything that might land near the wound. Jake had tried, once, to lighten things with a comment that would’ve killed in October and instead landed in dead silence, Jay’s face shutting down entirely, and Jake hadn’t tried again since. Jungwon noticed the way the team had started, almost unconsciously, dividing its attention between the two of them — careful not to seem too friendly with him in front of Jay, careful not to seem like they were taking sides, the whole house caught in a kind of low, exhausting diplomatic tension that hadn’t existed a month ago. He hated that he’d done that to them. He hated, more than anything, the particular shape of Jay’s silence — not the screaming from that first night, which had at least been something he could push back against, but this. The total absence. The refusal to even grant him the dignity of being yelled at like he mattered enough to yell at.

He found you most nights now at your dorm rather than the Den, both of you retreating to the one space that didn’t have Jay’s silence sitting in every room of it. “He looked right through me today,” Jungwon told you, one night, staring at the ceiling instead of you, like saying it out loud while looking at something else made it easier. “Not even with anger anymore. Just — through me. Like I’m not even worth being mad at.”

“He’s mad at me too. He won’t even do me that.”

“At least he’s saying things to me. Even if it’s just to yell about a read.” Jungwon’s voice cracked slightly. “I keep thinking if I just play perfectly enough, eventually he’ll have to say something else to me. Something that isn’t a correction. And then I realize how stupid that is, because this was never actually about hockey.” You reached over and laced your fingers through his, the same gesture he always did to you, except this time it was you reaching for him, and he held on like it was the only steady thing left in his whole week. “We’re going to fix this,” you said, with more certainty than you actually felt. “I don’t know how yet. But we are.”

Neither of you believed it fully, not that week, with the regional final closing in and Jay’s silence showing no signs of cracking and the whole team holding its breath around a fracture none of them knew how to heal. But you said it anyway, because saying it out loud felt like the only thing keeping either of you from drowning in how bad it had actually gotten.

Jake snapped on a Tuesday, in the most unlikely place for it to happen — not at the Den, not somewhere private, but right there in the locker room twenty minutes before practice, with half the team already in their gear and the rest filtering in around them.

It started small. Jay said something clipped to Jungwon about positioning on the upcoming power play, the same flat, correction-only tone he’d been using for a week and a half, and Jungwon nodded along the way he always did now, jaw tight, taking it without pushing back — and something about that exact exchange, the smallness and the sadness of it, the way two guys who used to actually talk to each other had been reduced to this, finally broke whatever restraint Jake had been holding onto. “Okay, I’m done.” He said it loud enough that the whole room turned, his gear bag dropping to the floor with a thud. “I am actually done watching this.”

“Jake—” Heeseung started, already sensing where this was going. “No, shut up, I’ve been quiet for a week and a half and I’m not doing it anymore.” Jake rounded on Jay first, finger pointed, and the sight of it — Jake, who was never the serious one, never the one who got genuinely heated about anything, standing there with real fire in his face — stopped the whole room cold. “You’re acting like Jungwon committed an actual crime. He didn’t murder anyone, man, he fell in love with your sister, and I’m sorry, but that’s not the same thing, and you have been treating him like it for two weeks.”

“Jake, this isn’t—”

“It is my business, actually, because I’m watching our first line fall apart nine days before the most important game of the season, and I’m watching my captain — who I respect more than almost anyone on this team — turn into someone I genuinely don’t recognize.” Jake’s voice cracked slightly, more emotional than anyone had ever heard him. “You taught me what it means to be a captain on this team. You taught all of us. And right now you’re teaching us that the second something actually hurts, the move is to go cold and silent and pretend the person doesn’t exist. Is that the lesson? Because if it is, I don’t want it.”

He turned on Jungwon next, and his voice didn’t soften much. “And you. You’re walking around like you’re being sentenced to life in prison. Take the hit, man. You broke the rule, fine, you knew what you were doing, but you don’t get to just curl up and accept being treated like nothing either. You love her. Act like it actually means something instead of apologizing with your whole body language every single day.”

Nobody said anything for a second. Riki had gone very still by his stall. Heeseung’s eyes were on the floor. Even Sunghoon, usually unreadable, looked like he didn’t know where to put his face. Jay was the one who finally broke the silence, and his voice, when it came, didn’t have any of the cold flatness from the last week and a half in it anymore. “You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I like feeling like this?”

“I think you’re so far up in your own anger that you forgot we’re all still here,” Jake said, quieter now, the heat draining out into something more tired. “I think you forgot Jungwon’s not just the guy who broke your rule. He’s also the guy who’s centered your line for an entire season and made you look like the best captain this program’s ever had. Both things are true. You’re acting like only one of them is.”

Jay’s jaw worked, something complicated moving across his face, and for a long moment the whole room just watched, waiting, nobody quite breathing. “Everyone out,” Jay said finally, low. “Except him.” A nod toward Jungwon. “Give us the room.” The team filed out slowly, Jake last, clapping Jay once on the shoulder on his way past — not quite forgiveness, not quite anything, just contact, the kind two people who actually cared about each other still managed even mid-argument — and the door shut, leaving Jay and Jungwon alone in the locker room for the first time since the night everything broke.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Jay sat down heavily on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor, and Jungwon stayed standing, not sure if sitting down uninvited was a privilege he still had. “Jake’s right,” Jay said finally, quiet, not looking up. “About all of it. I hate that he’s right.”

“I’m not going to pretend I didn’t break the rule,” Jungwon said. “I did. On purpose, eventually, even if it didn’t start that way. I’m not going to stand here and tell you I’m sorry about loving her, because I’m not, and I think you’d see right through it if I tried.”

“I know you’re not sorry about that part.” Jay’s voice was rough. “I think that’s actually what made it worse. If you’d looked guilty about loving her, I think I could’ve hated you clean. But you didn’t. You looked like a guy who’d do it again in a heartbeat, and I didn’t know what to do with that.”

“I would do it again. I’m sorry it cost you what it did. I’m not sorry I did it.” Jay finally looked up at that, and something raw and exhausted passed over his face. “I trusted you more than anyone on this team. That’s still true, even now. That’s what made this hurt the way it did — it wasn’t just the rule, Jungwon, it’s that I actually thought I knew you. I was already talking to Coach about making you assistant captain next year. I thought you were the one guy who’d never make me regret trusting him.”

“I know. I heard about that, after. It made everything worse, knowing that.”

“Good. It should.” But there wasn’t much heat left in it. They sat in silence for a while, the kind that had a little more give in it than the silence of the last two weeks, and finally Jay let out a long breath, something in his shoulders loosening for the first time since the night he’d opened that door. “I’m still mad,” he said. “I know.”

“I’m not gonna be okay with this overnight. I don’t know how to just turn that off.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Jungwon’s voice cracked slightly. “I just — I miss you, man. Not just as my captain. You were the first person here who actually made me feel like I belonged on this team, not just on the ice but in the house, in everything. I miss that. I know I don’t get to just ask for it back right now. I just wanted you to know I miss it.” Jay stood up slowly, and for a second neither of them moved, and then he closed the distance and pulled Jungwon into a hug — quick, a little stiff, the kind two guys give each other when they’re not sure the moment’s fully earned yet but need the contact anyway — a hard clap on the back, the kind of bro-hug that said more than either of them were ready to say out loud. “We’re not good,” Jay said, pulling back, voice rough. “I want to be really clear about that. We are not good yet.”

“I know.”

“But I can’t keep doing this on the ice. Jake’s right, I’m costing us the season out of spite, and that’s not who I want to be as a captain.” He exhaled, something almost like a laugh escaping despite everything. “God, I hate that Jake was the one who had to say all that to my face. He’s never serious about anything.”

“He was pretty serious about that.”

“Yeah. Scared the hell out of me, honestly.” Jay actually laughed then, short and surprised, like the sound had snuck out before he’d given it permission, and Jungwon found himself laughing too, the first time in two weeks either of them had laughed about anything, the sound strange and rusty but real. It faded into quiet again, but a different kind this time, something a little more bearable.

“I love your sister, man,” Jungwon said, finally, simply, no longer something he was confessing so much as just stating, plain and certain. “I know that’s the whole problem. But it’s true, and it’s not going away, and I needed you to hear it from me like that, not in the middle of a fight.” Jay was quiet for a second, looking at him steady. “Yeah,” he said, eventually, something tired and a little wrecked in his voice. “Yeah, I know.” He paused at the door on his way out, looking back at Jungwon for a long moment. “Would’ve been good,” he said, quiet, almost too quiet to catch, “having you as an actual brother. If this had all gone differently.” He left before Jungwon could answer, but the words sat warm in the room behind him, the first real crack of something other than anger in two weeks.

Jay showed up at your dorm that night after, no text first, just a knock you almost didn’t answer because you’d stopped expecting anyone good to be on the other side of your door lately. When you opened it and saw him standing there, hands in his pockets, looking exhausted in a way that went deeper than just practice, you didn’t say anything at all — just stepped back to let him in, the way you always had, the way you hoped you always would. “I’m not okay,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed, not looking at you yet. “I want to be clear about that before we do this. I’m still hurt. I’m still figuring out how to be around either of you without it costing me something.”

“Okay.”

“But I can’t keep not talking to you. I tried. I’m not built for it, apparently. I kept reaching for my phone to tell you something stupid and then remembering I wasn’t allowed to, and it felt like missing a limb.” He finally looked up, and his eyes were wet, and yours were too, the two of you mirroring each other the way you always had, even now. “We’ve never gone this long without talking. I hated every single day of it.”

“Me too.” Your voice broke. “I know I hurt you. I know hiding it for four months made it so much worse than if I’d just told you. I’m sorry for that part, even if I’m not sorry for him.”

“I know.” Jay’s voice was rough. “I heard basically that same sentence from him a few hours ago. Word for word, almost.” A short, tired laugh. “You two are annoyingly aligned on this.”

“Are you going to be okay? With him? Eventually?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m working on it. He’s — “ Jay stopped, considering. “He’s a good guy. I always thought that. That’s actually most of why this hurt so much, if I’m honest. It would’ve been so much easier if he was someone I didn’t already respect.” You moved to sit beside him, and after a second, he let his head drop onto your shoulder, the same way he had a hundred times before across twenty-one years, every fight, every bad day, every moment either of you needed the only other person who’d been there from the very beginning. “We’re not okay yet,” he said quietly. “I need you to know that. This is going to take a while.”

“I know.”

“But we’re better than we were yesterday.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself lean into him, the two of you sitting there in the quiet of your dorm room, bruised and tired and still not fully mended, but closer to it than you’d been in two weeks. “We’re better.” It wasn’t fixed. Not all the way, not yet. But for the first time since that night in the kitchen, it felt like something that could actually be fixed, eventually, by two people who’d never once, in their whole lives, managed to stay broken with each other for very long.

The weeks following something in the Den shifted back toward warmth so gradually that nobody quite noticed the exact moment it happened — only that by Wednesday, Jay was sitting across from Jungwon at the kitchen table going over breakout patterns like nothing had ever broken between them, and by Friday, the two of them had fallen into an easy rhythm on the ice that made Coach Anders actually smile during a drill for the first time in three weeks. It wasn’t instant. Jay was still careful in ways he hadn’t been before — a half-second pause before he passed to Jungwon that hadn’t existed in September, a watchfulness in his eyes when you and Jungwon were in the same room that read less like suspicion now and more like a brother recalibrating, slowly, what he was allowed to feel okay about. But the silence was gone. That was the part that mattered most. He talked to Jungwon again — really talked, not just corrections barked mid-drill — and the first time Jungwon made a joke and Jay actually laughed at it, properly, the whole bench seemed to exhale at once, like the entire team had been holding its breath for weeks without realizing it.

You started coming to the Den again too, openly, without the old careful choreography of checking who was in which room first. The first time Jungwon kissed you goodbye in front of everyone — quick, easy, right there in the kitchen doorway, his hand finding your jaw the way it always did — Jay made a sound like he’d swallowed something unpleasant. “I’m gonna need a warning before you do that,” he said, not looking up from his cereal. “Some kind of system. A bell.”

“You walked in on considerably worse than a kitchen kiss, Jongseong, I think you can survive this.”

“That’s exactly my point. I have a very low tolerance left for surprises involving you two.” But there was no real heat in it anymore, just the particular, well-worn grumbling of an older brother performing discomfort he didn’t fully feel, and when Jungwon came back through twenty minutes later to grab his gear bag and kissed you again on his way out the door — bye, love you, back after lift — Jay just groaned into his cereal bowl. “Gross,” he announced, to the room generally. “Both of you. Disgusting. I’m eating.”

“You’ll live.”

“Barely.” But he was almost smiling when he said it, and that almost-smile told you more about how far you’d actually come than any amount of words could have.

The necklace sat against your collarbone every single day now, no longer something you had to explain away with a half-true lie about treating yourself — Jay knew exactly what it was and who’d given it to you, had asked about it directly one evening with none of the old danger in the question, just genuine, easy curiosity. He give you that? And when you’d said yes, he’d just nodded, looked at it a second longer, and said, it’s nice. He’s got good taste, in a tone that wasn’t quite forgiveness yet but was something moving steadily toward it.

The regional final was scheduled for a Saturday night, home ice, the biggest game Blackwood had hosted in four years, and the week leading into it had the specific, charged intensity that comes when an entire program understands exactly what’s at stake. Coach Anders ran practices longer and harder than he had all season, the kind of two-a-days that left everyone’s legs feeling like wet sand by Thursday, and Jay led every single one of them with a focus that had fully returned to its old, easy command, no longer fractured by anything sitting underneath it.

“This is it,” he told the team, the night before, gathered in the Den’s living room in a rare moment of total quiet, no music, no chaos, just thirty guys who’d spent a whole season building toward exactly this. “Four years I’ve waited for a shot at this. I’m not gonna stand up here and give you some big speech, because you already know what this means to all of us.” His eyes moved across the room, the way they always did, landing on Jungwon for a beat — not the wary, careful look from a few weeks ago, but something warmer, something closer to trust fully restored. “We’ve been through a lot this season. On the ice and off it. I think that actually makes us better for tomorrow, not worse. We know how to fight for each other now. Let’s go show everyone else what that looks like.”

The room broke into noise after that, the easy, electric kind, and later that night, after most of the house had gone quiet, you found Jungwon out on the back porch alone, staring out at nothing in particular, the cold air doing nothing to cut the obvious nervous energy radiating off him. “Hey.” You wrapped your arms around him from behind, chin resting between his shoulder blades. “You’re thinking too loud. I can hear it from inside.”

“Biggest game of my life tomorrow.” He turned to face you, pulling you properly into him, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. “I keep running through every possible way it could go wrong.”

“It’s not going to go wrong.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, actually. I’ve watched you all season. I’ve watched you and Jongseong figure out how to be brothers again in like two weeks after the worst fight either of you have ever had. You two can do anything when you’re actually trying together.” You kissed him, slow, certain. “I love you. I need you to actually hear that tonight, not just as a thing I say after games. I love you, and I’m so proud of everything you’ve become this season, on the ice and off it, and tomorrow doesn’t change any of that no matter how it goes.” Something in his face went soft and open at that, all the nervous energy settling for a moment into something quieter. “I love you too,” he said, and it landed the same way it always did between you now — easy, certain, no longer something either of you had to hide in a kitchen at midnight or whisper behind a closed door. “I love you so much it scares me sometimes, how much this season’s actually been worth it because of you, even with everything that happened.”

“Tomorrow’s going to be good.”

“Yeah.” He kissed you again, lingering, the cold night air around you both finally feeling less like a threat and more like just weather. “Yeah, I think it actually will be.”

The arena on Saturday night was packed beyond anything Jungwon had played in front of all season — every seat filled, students standing in the aisles, the kind of noise that hit you physically the second you stepped out for warmups, a wall of sound that hadn’t fully let up by the time the puck dropped for the first period. You sat in your usual seat, three rows up behind the glass, except tonight you weren’t in your normal clothes — you were in his jersey, YANG stitched across the back in block lettering, his number stretched over your shoulders, and you hadn’t hidden it from a single person walking in, hadn’t thought twice about who might see. Sunoo sat beside you in a Blackwood shirt of his own, practically vibrating with nervous energy, occasionally grabbing your arm hard enough to bruise every time the play got close to either net.

The first period was tight, both teams playing tense, controlled hockey, neither side willing to make the first real mistake. Jay’s line — Jungwon centering, Jay and a senior winger flanking him — controlled most of the offensive zone time but couldn’t find the back of the net, hitting a post once that sent the whole arena into a held-breath gasp before the horn sounded for intermission still scoreless.

The second period broke the dam. Blackwood’s opponent struck first on a power play seven minutes in, a wrist shot through a screen that the goalie never saw, and the home crowd’s noise dropped into a tense, anxious murmur. You watched Jay’s face on the bench during the next shift — jaw locked, eyes scanning the ice with total focus — and when his line went back out, something in the way he and Jungwon moved together looked different than it had all season, sharper, more locked in, like the deficit had snapped something into perfect alignment between them instead of rattling it apart.

Jungwon tied it up with four minutes left in the second — a give-and-go off Jay’s stick that mirrored almost exactly the play from his very first collegiate goal back in October, except this time when he buried it, Jay was the first one to slam into him in celebration, both of them screaming something wordless into each other’s face masks, the whole bench spilling over in noise. “THAT’S MY GUY,” Jay was shouting, dragging Jungwon into a headlock that had nothing restrained about it. “THAT’S MY CENTER!” You were on your feet with the rest of the arena, Sunoo screaming directly into your ear in a way that was going to leave you half-deaf, both your hands pressed against your chest like you could physically hold your own heart in place.

The third period was the longest twenty minutes of your entire life. Both teams traded chances, the goaltending on both ends going from good to borderline miraculous, the clock ticking down with a kind of cruelty that made every single shift feel like it might be the one that decided everything. With six minutes left, Blackwood’s opponent hit the post on a breakaway that made the entire arena gasp in unison and then exhale just as loud when it rang off harmlessly. With ninety seconds left, Jay blocked a shot with his own body that had the whole bench up on its feet, limping briefly before shaking it off and getting back into position like it had cost him nothing at all.

And then, with thirty-one seconds left on the clock, it happened. Jungwon won the offensive zone faceoff clean, the puck sliding back to the point, worked low, and when it came back out to the slot it found Jay’s stick exactly where Jungwon had read it would be all night — the same instinct, the same trust, rebuilt and somehow stronger than it had been before everything broke. Jay’s shot beat the goalie clean, top corner, far side, and the horn that followed wasn’t even fully necessary because the entire arena had already exploded before the puck had finished crossing the line. 3–1. Twenty-nine seconds left. The building came apart.

The final horn sounded like the loudest thing you’d ever heard in your life, and the ice turned into total chaos within seconds — gloves and sticks flying, the entire bench pouring over the boards, players piling on top of each other near center ice in a scrum of padding and screaming and pure, uncut joy. You were over the glass and through the gate before you’d even consciously decided to move, Sunoo right behind you, security barely bothering to stop the wave of people flooding toward the ice because there was no stopping it tonight, not for this.

You found Jungwon in the chaos near the blue line, and the second he saw you coming he dropped his stick and gloves and just opened his arms, and you ran straight into them, the momentum spinning both of you in a full circle, his arms locking tight around you, lifting you half off the ice entirely. “You did it,” you were saying, half-laughing, half-crying, his face buried in your neck. “You actually did it—”

“We did it.” He pulled back just far enough to kiss you, right there in the middle of the ice, in front of the entire arena, in front of every single camera and every single person who might have once whispered about whose sister you were — none of that mattered anymore, none of it had ever mattered less. “I love you. I love you so much, you have no idea—”

“I love you too.” You kissed him again, laughing into it, both of you spinning slightly on unsteady skates and unsteady legs, the whole world around you a blur of noise and lights and bodies celebrating. Jay found you both seconds later, breathless, helmet already off, and for one suspended moment you weren’t sure what he was going to do — and then he just pulled both of you into him at once, one arm around each of your necks, dragging you both into a hug that nearly took all three of you down onto the ice. “WE WON,” he was screaming, not really to either of you specifically, just into the air, just because the feeling needed somewhere to go. “We actually won—”

He pulled back enough to look between the two of you, something in his face gone fully soft for the first time in months, no wariness left in it at all. “I’m happy for you two,” he said, breathless, genuine, loud enough that you both heard it clearly even over the noise of the whole arena. “I mean that. I’m actually happy.”

“Jongseong—”

“Don’t make this weird, I already feel weird saying it.” But he was grinning, fully, easily, pulling Jungwon into a separate hug, a real one this time, no stiffness left in it at all, clapping him hard on the back. “You’re a hell of a center, Yang. Best one this program’s had in years. Maybe ever.”

“Means a lot, coming from you.”

“It should.” Jay pulled back, studying him for a second, something decided and certain settling into his face. “I talked to Coach last week. Before tonight, actually — wanted to wait and see how things played out between us first, didn’t want it to feel like I was just handing it to you out of guilt.” He took a breath. “You’re gonna be assistant captain next year. I already told him that’s what I want. You earned it. On the ice, and — yeah. Off it too, eventually. I see that now.” Jungwon stared at him for a second, something overwhelmed moving across his face, and then he just laughed, short and disbelieving and entirely happy. “Good,” he said, simply, because there wasn’t really a bigger word that could hold everything underneath it. “Good,” Jay agreed, grinning, and pulled him into one more hug, and over his shoulder his eyes found yours, warm, settled, twenty-one years of being twins finally feeling whole again underneath all of it.

The ice stayed full of celebration for a long time after that — Jake hoisting the game puck over his head like a trophy, Riki crying openly and loudly and without a single ounce of shame about it, Sunghoon finding Sunoo at the glass and kissing him in front of the entire arena with none of his old hesitation left, Heeseung quietly recording all of it on his phone because someone, he kept saying, needed to actually remember this properly. You stood at the center of it all in Jungwon’s jersey, his arm around your shoulders, your brother laughing somewhere beside you, and let yourself feel, fully and without reservation, exactly how far all of you had come to get here — through secrets and silence and the worst fight any of you had ever had, into something that finally, finally, felt whole.

“Soon,” Jungwon murmured, against your temple, echoing the word you’d both used all season as a promise for later. “Remember when we kept saying soon?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not soon anymore.” He kissed your temple, easy, certain, home. “It’s just now. It’s just us. For real, finally, out loud, in front of everyone.”

“Yeah,” you said again, smiling so wide it ached, watching the chaos of the best night of the entire season swirl around you both. “Yeah. It really is.”

⋆。˚ lacey speaks!! that’s a wrap! thank you so much for giving this fic your time. i hope you loved these characters as much as i loved writing them. don’t forget to leave a comment if you enjoyed it—it always makes me so happy to read them. 🤍

perm taglist… @kristynaaah @yuudaiinhs @urlocalengene @woninlove @n4n4files @jimineepaboya @grdientlips @hooniluhv @afanok @seungiesdoll @rinforu @isa942572 @ride-a-nishimura @florarua @baedreamverse @softblaqn @rikisloverrr @kittyvalr @ellushic @dimples264493 @kimmm02 @kiwicup @jakebitez @mystgene @baek-some-cake @betagalactose @kookiesnkim @honeyvelvetinez @violetteaismyfavourite @meowza1 @imminentcodexcore @mlink64 @k4y-sh @rubadubdubinthetub @jungwno @k3nza @simjakeyjake @heeseungdada @bbrianawhatt @onlyifusayyesxx @mintchocoddeonut @sillycactus143 @heexyzy @wonkiipiilled @sugarcwtie @alleiraa @firstclassjaylee @katalior @layxmint @xoheedeung

[nikiducks]

D*CK BICYCLE ▶︎ now playing : side to side by Ariana Grande ft. Nicki Minaj

PAIRING : idol yang jungwon x f. reader ; established bf/gf relationship

GENRE : smut 21+ ⤷ do not interact if you’re underage!ˎˊ˗ WARNING : includes ; sub/dom reader, dom won, a lot of dialogue, touching, kissing, stimulation, spitting, praising, encouragement, dirty talk, talking through it, size kink, unprotected p in v (don’t do it!), d*ck riding, cream pie (“The Bicycle” reversed), c*ming, c*ming inside, c*ming together, dripping c*m, after-care, reassurance, satisfied reader, satisfied won, very detailed!

SYNOPSIS : after a late-night bike ride and Weverse live along the Han River, Jungwon makes an impulsive detour to his girlfriend’s apartment after weeks apart. The long-awaited reunion quickly ignites into a deeply passionate, breathless night, fueled by his athletic stamina and a shared desire to make up for the lost time they’ve spent apart. ( my last y.j fic here ⁀➴ x )

The midnight breeze coming off the Han River carried a sharp refreshing chill, rustling the leaves of the nearby trees. Jungwon sat on a bench just beneath the shadow of the Mapo Bridge underpass, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Dressed in an all-black athletic tech-jacket, matching cargo joggers, blending perfectly into the night.

He tapped his phone screen, adjusting his wireless earbuds. The notification flashed across thousands of screens globally: JUNGWON is LIVE. Within seconds, the comment section exploded into a blur of frantic scrolling.

"Hi, Engene," Jungwon said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate late-night register. He leaned his elbows on his knees, peering into the camera with a small, dimpled smile. "Did you eat? I'm just out clearing my head." The screen flashed with rapid-fire questions. Oppa, where are you? Is that the Han River? Isn't it dangerous this late?

"Yeah, it’s the Han River," he murmured, his gaze momentarily shifting away from the screen. His sharp eyes scanned the perimeter of the underpass, watching a distant couple walking their dog and a jogger pacing by. Even in the dark, the instinct of an idol never truly turned off. "Don't worry, I'm being careful. It's really quiet tonight. There's almost no one around."

Just as the words left his mouth, the distant echo of heavy footsteps and loud laughter bounced off the concrete walls of the underpass. A small group of late-night tech workers walked into view further up the path, heading in his direction.

A sudden, sharp spike of adrenaline hit Jungwon's chest. He couldn't risk being recognized out here alone, especially while actively broadcasting his exact location to thousands of people. Acting on pure instinct, Jungwon seamlessly shifted his posture. He leaned forward into the phone, tapping his wireless earbud as if adjusting a bad connection, and intentionally looked away from the group. He dropped his voice into a casual, conversational tone, completely pretending he was on a regular phone call rather than streaming live.

"Ah, yeah? Did you just finish work?" He said aloud into the empty air, his acting flawless as he casually propped his phone up against his bike helmet to keep the camera angled safely away from the path. He kept his eyes locked away from the approaching group, tracking their movements in his peripheral view as they walked past. "Have you eaten yet? I was thinking about grabbing something on the way back..." The group walked right past his bench, entirely oblivious. To them, he was just another ordinary guy in athletic clothes chatting with a friend late at night. Once their shadows faded into the distance and their voices died down, Jungwon let out a quiet, invisible breath of relief. He leaned forward, bringing his face back into the camera frame with a small, knowing smirk at how easily he’d handled the close call, swiftly resuming to read the live comments.

Where are Jake and Sunghoon? Are you alone? Jungwon chuckled softly, the sound scraping pleasantly against the microphone. "Jake-hyung and Sunghoon-hyung had different schedules today. They’re probably already asleep. I wanted to get some exercise, so I took my bike out."

He flipped the camera around to show the shimmering reflection of the city lights dancing on the water's surface, tilting the lens upward toward the sky. "Look. The moon is completely full tonight. It’s pretty, right?"

After a few more minutes of reading comments, discussing his dinner, and reassuring fans that he wasn't catching a cold, Jungwon checked the time. It had been about eight minutes—long enough to check in, but short enough to avoid drawing a crowd. "Alright, Engene, I should head out before it gets any later. Sleep well, and make sure to eat breakfast tomorrow. Bye-bye." He flashed a quick peace sign, dimples sinking deep into his cheeks, and ended the stream.

The silence of the riverbank rushed back in. Jungwon sighed, stood up, stretching his back, and walked up to his bike resting against the concrete pillar. He strapped his helmet on, but instead of pocketing his phone, his thumb hovered over a contact name that always brought an instant, genuine warmth to his chest.

📱Calling : 우리 자기 🐝

He hit dial, lifting the phone to his ear as he hopped onto the bike seat, balancing with one foot on the pavement. The line rang three times before a soft, fumbling rustle echoed through the speaker.

📞 You : "Hello?" Your voice came through, thick with sleep, a little raspy, and entirely disarmed.

📞 Jungwon : Jungwon’s posture immediately softened. The guarded, hyper-aware idol posture melted away, replaced by a soft, boyish grin. "Did I wake you up, jagi?"

📞 You : "Jungwonie..." You shifted against your pillows, the sound of your blanket moving clear over the line. A sleepy smile evident in your tone. "No, it's fine. I was just drifting off. I always wait up for your call anyway."

The sheer fondness that hit him was visual; he had to look down at his sneakers to catch his breath. It had been nearly three weeks since he’d last held you, swallowed up by a relentless wave of comebacks, dance practices, and media appearances. Hearing your voice like this—vulnerable and entirely yours—was the first time he felt like he could actually breathe all day.

📞 Jungwon : "I miss you," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, laced with a sudden, heavy gravity. "I just finished my schedule a bit ago and took my bike out to wind down."

📞 You : That woke you up a little more. "Wait, you're outside? Right now?" You sat up in bed, concern cutting through the sleepiness. "Jungwon, it’s past midnight. Where are you?"

📞 Jungwon : "Just by the Han River underpass," he said casually, though he couldn't help but chuckle at how quickly your maternal instincts kicked in whenever he was out alone. "I'm safe, I promise.

📞 You : "You need to get back to the dorms," you scolded gently, though the underlying worry in your voice was sweet. "You've been working non-stop all week. Go home, take a hot shower, and sleep."

Jungwon didn't answer right away. He looked down at the handlebars of his bike, then turned his head, looking toward the city skyline in the direction of your neighborhood. He bit his lower lip, a sudden, electric spark of impulsivity taking over.

📞 Jungwon : "Hey," he said softly, his tone shifting from casual to something much lower, much more deliberate.

📞 You : "Yeah?"

📞 Jungwon : "I'm looking at the route back to the dorms..." Jungwon hesitated, a low, teasing hum vibrating in his throat. "But honestly? I'm pretty far from Hannam-dong right now. And your apartment is only about a ten-minute ride from the bridge."

There was a sudden pause on your end of the line.

📞 You : "Jungwon..."

📞 Jungwon : "Can I come by?" He asked, his voice dropping to a velvety, persuasive whisper that left no room for argument. "Just for the night. I really don't want to ride all the way back."

A soft sigh escaped your lips, a mix of relief and a sudden, fluttering anticipation that completely chased away the last remnants of your sleep. You leaned back against your headboard, clutching the phone a little tighter to your ear.

📞 You : "You're impossible," you murmured, a helpless smile tugging at your lips. "Yes, of course you can come over. You know you don't even have to ask."

Jungwon let out a low, satisfied hum over the line, the sound vibrating directly into your ear.

📞 You : "But," you added, your tone turning firm but gentle, "Only if you promise you’ll be careful. No speeding on the trails, keep your head down, and you cannot be late for your schedule tomorrow morning. I mean it, Jungwon. If you get in trouble because of this—"

📞 Jungwon : "I won't, jagi, I promise," he interrupted softly, his voice laced with an intimate, reassuring warmth that instantly quieted your worrying. "Manager-hyung knows I went out for a ride to clear my head, and my morning call isn't until ten. I have plenty of time. I just... I really need to see you tonight. Everything else can wait."

The raw honesty in his voice made your heart do a familiar flip. It was rare for the fiercely responsible ENHYPEN leader to be this selfish, but when it came to you, the strict boundaries he lived by always seemed to blur.

📞 You : "Okay," you whispered, your voice softening completely. "Just hurry, please. It’s dark out."

📞 Jungwon : "I have some clothes in your closet anyway, remember? And my toothbrush," he teased, his dimples practically audible through the phone. He had slowly been leaving a trail of his things at your place over the last few months—a deliberate, quiet way of claiming his spot in your life. "I'll change as soon as I get there."

You could hear the sharp click of his helmet strap securing under his chin through the microphone, followed by the rustle of his tech-jacket as he adjusted his phone into his pocket, keeping you on his wireless earbuds.

📞 Jungwon : "I'm pedaling out now," Jungwon said, his breathing shifting as he pushed off the pavement. The background noise of the Han River wind picked up slightly. "I’ll use the keypad, okay? Be there in ten minutes."

📞 You : "I'll be waiting. Ride safe."

📞 Jungwon : "Always. See you in a few."

⸻

The moment the line went dead, the lingering fog of sleep vanished entirely, replaced by a sudden, electric rush of adrenaline. You tossed your covers aside and swung your legs out of bed, your heart hammering against your ribs in the quiet of your apartment. Ten minutes. You had exactly ten minutes. You sprinted straight to your dresser, bypassing your usual oversized t-shirts for something meant just for his eyes. You pulled out a matching midnight-blue satin sleep set—a delicate, low-back camisole with thin spaghetti straps and matching fluid shorts that trimmed your thighs. It was soft, effortless, and just the right amount of revealing.

Dashing into the bathroom, you grabbed your shower caddy and twisted the faucet, letting the water instantly steam up the glass. You stripped down and stepped into the water, washing away the day with a quick but meticulous shower. You used your favorite vanilla and amber-infused body wash, ensuring the rich, warm scent clung to your skin. After a lightning-fast rinse, you hopped out, wrapped a towel around yourself, and quickly brushed your teeth, wanting your breath to be minty fresh. Standing in front of the mirror, you blew through your beauty routine with practiced speed. You brushed out your hair, letting it fall in soft, natural waves over your shoulders, and applied a lightweight, hydrating body lotion that gave your skin a subtle, healthy glow. A swipe of tinted lip balm added just a touch of color to your lips.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you slipped into the satin set. The cool fabric felt delicious against your warmed skin. With only three minutes left on the clock, you hurried to presentable-ify your space. You smoothed out the wrinkled sheets of your bed, plumping up the pillows and pulling the duvet taut—making it look inviting but neat. On the nightstand, you struck a match and lit a cedarwood and tobacco-scented candle. The flame flickered to life, casting a warm, amber glow across the bedroom, throwing intimate shadows against the walls as the rich, cozy fragrance began to drift through the air.

Finally, you walked over to the hallway linen closet. You pulled out a plush, charcoal-grey bath towel, shaking it open before folding it neatly over your arm. Knowing Jungwon, after a late-night schedule and a sweaty bike ride, a hot shower would be the first thing he’d crave.

Just as you patted the towel into place on the bathroom counter, the faint, familiar electronic beep of your front door’s keypad echoed from the entryway. The electronic lock clicked open, and the heavy door nudged forward. Jungwon slipped inside with practiced stealth, lifting his road bike across the threshold to keep the tires from squeaking against the hardwood floor. He leaned the sleeked black bike securely against the wall by the shoe rack, unbuckling his helmet and setting it over the handlebars.

"Jagi?" He called out, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that instantly cut through the quiet apartment.

"In the bathroom!" You called back, your voice echoing slightly against the tile.

Jungwon let out a long, exhausted breath, the heavy weight of his idol persona finally slipping off his shoulders the moment the door locked behind him. He kicked off his sneakers, stepping into the familiar house slippers you kept just for him. He walked into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a soft groan, running a hand through his dark hair. Before he could even fully melt into the cushions, the bathroom door clicked open, making him instantly jump back up to greet you properly.

You walked out, and the moment Jungwon's eyes landed on you, his exhaustion seemed to have evaporated. His gaze darkened slightly, tracking the slope of your shoulders and the fluid movement of your silk pjs against your skin. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face, his dimples cutting deep.

"Look at you," he whispered, his eyes locked on yours.

You didn't answer with words. A sudden wave of emotion hit you—just seeing him standing in your space after weeks of separation made your chest ache in the best way. You ran across the living room, throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crook of his shoulder. You pressed frantic, sweet kisses all over his jaw and cheek.

"Whoa, wait, wait—" Jungwon laughed, his voice a deep rumble against your chest. He instinctively brought his hands up to grip your waist, but stopped himself, holding his palms out in mid-air. "Babe, I'm sweaty. I just rode all the way from the river, don't get your nice clothes dirty."

You pulled back just an inch, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat. "I don't care," you teased, leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek. "But... I did already set up the bathroom for you. Your towel is on the counter, and your clothes are in the closet."

Jungwon’s eyes softened, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration taking over his features. He looked at you, clean, smelling like warm vanilla, and completely ready to take care of him after a long day.

"You're amazing, you know that?" He murmured.

Unable to resist any longer, Jungwon leaned forward. Keeping his sweaty jacket carefully angled away from your pretty satin set, he poked his lips out playfully before deepening the gesture, pressing a firm, lingering kiss right against your lips. It was warm, breathless, and tasted faintly of the cool night air. He pulled back with a soft smirk, his thumbs lightly brushing the sides of your hips before he fully stood back. "Let me go wash up real quick. Don't go back to sleep without me."

"I won't," you promised, watching him as he grabbed his change of clothes from the bedroom and disappeared into the steaming bathroom, closing the door behind him.

⸻

The 20 minutes Jungwon spent in the bathroom felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bed, mindlessly scrolling through the Netflix homepage, the colorful tiles blurring together as your chest tightened with a nervous, electric anticipation. No matter how long you two had been together, the sheer reality of him being here, in your apartment, away from the cameras and the crowds, always brought back those fierce, heavy butterflies.

And the moment the distant rumble of the shower pipes went silent, you sprang into action.

You dashed over to the vanity mirror, quickly fluffing up your hair so it fell perfectly over your shoulders. You grabbed a tube of high-shine lip gloss, swiping it over your lips to give them a plush, inviting pout, and topped it off with one last delicate spritz of your vanilla perfume on your collarbones. Hearing his bare footsteps approach the door, you scrambled back onto the bed, pulling the cover over your legs just as the handle turned, trying to look perfectly casual. The door swung open, and a wave of warm, clean steam billowed into the bedroom, carrying the scent of his soap.

Jungwon walked in, and it was as if the entire room shifted into slow motion. His damp hair was messy, his towel slung carelessly over his broad shoulders as he aggressively rubbed at the wet strands. He was wearing his favorite off-duty uniform: a charcoal-black, form-fitting crewneck shirt that stretched tight across his chest and shoulders, paired with loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips.

You meant to look at his face. You really did. But your eyes instantly betrayed you. As he walked toward the bed, the soft fabric of the grey sweats clung just right, completely revealing that he had opted to skip out on underwear tonight. The unmistakable, heavy print was impossible to ignore. Your breath hitched in your throat, a sudden flash of heat rushing straight to your cheeks. That specific outfit combination—the tight top highlighting his strong frame paired with the effortlessly revealing grey sweats—always did something wicked to your sanity, and he knew it. Jungwon caught the exact trajectory of your gaze. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips, his dimples cutting deep into his cheeks as he lowered the towel from his head. He didn't say a word, but the sudden, intense darkness in his eyes told you he knew exactly what you were looking at.

That memory hit you like a physical wave, sending a sudden, intoxicating rush of heat straight to your core. It was pure déjà vu. Your mind flashed vividly back to the Walk The Line tour stop in Chicago—specifically, the late-night aftermath backstage. He had worn almost this exact outfit after the concert, exhausted but running on pure adrenaline, and the things he had done to you while wearing those grey sweats had burned themselves into your memory permanently.

Jungwon tracked the heat rising in your cheeks, his smirk widening as he tossed his damp towel onto your vanity chair. He didn't call you out on it verbally; instead, he let the silence stretch, thick and heavy with unspoken tension.

He crawled into bed, his movements fluid and unhurried. The moment he slid onto the sheets beside you, he let out the biggest, most genuine sigh of relief, as if the weight of the entire world had finally been lifted off his shoulders. "Ah, finally," he murmured, his voice incredibly deep and raspy from the steam of the shower. Without waiting a second, he reached out and dragged you into his space, his strong arms wrapping securely around your waist to pull your back flush against his chest. He buried his face straight into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A low, appreciative hum vibrated through his chest and directly onto your skin.

"You smell so good, jagi," he whispered, his warm breath sending a shiver straight down your spine. "Vanilla? You got ready for me."

"Maybe," you teased softly, leaning back into his solid frame, your skin tingling where the cool satin of your camisole met the soft cotton of his fitted black shirt. "You took forever in there. I missed you."

"I had to wash off the whole day," he murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below your ear as he spoke. He tightened his grip on your waist, pulling you so close that you could feel the thick warmth of him pressing firmly against your thigh. "But I'm finally here now. I'm not going anywhere."

⸻

You shifted slightly in his embrace, turning your head to look at him as he rested his chin on your shoulder. The warm, amber glow of the candle flickered against his sharp jawline, making him look incredibly relaxed.

"So, tell me about your day," you murmured, tracing a playful circle on his forearm. "What did you eat? And how is the choreography for the new comeback coming along? How was your bike ride?

Jungwon let out a soft huff, his lips brushing your skin. "Ah, the comeback prep is intense. We spent five hours practicing the main track today. It’s fast, really heavy on the footwork. I only had time for some chicken breast, rice, and kimchi between filming content," he explained briefly, his voice dropping into a sleepy, rhythmic cadence. "And the bike ride... I just needed to feel the wind, you know? To escape for a second." He shifted, his chest pressing closer against your back. "But enough about me. I've been thinking about you all day. How was your day, jagi? What did you do?"

"My day was okay," you started, turning your head a bit more to meet his gaze. "I went to that new café down the street this morning to get some work done, and then I—"

You choked on the rest of your sentence as Jungwon suddenly leaned in, burying his face back deeply into the crook of your neck. His lips pressed a warm, deliberate kiss right against your skin. "Jungwon..." you breathed, trying to stay on track, but your hands instinctively gripped his forearm. "And then I had to run some errands..."

He didn't reply with words. His lips traveled slowly up the column of your neck, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw, making a quiet gasp escape your lips. At the same time, his hand—warm and heavy—slid down from your waist, his fingers tracing the smooth edge of your satin shorts. His large palm slipped underneath the fluid fabric, his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your thigh with a possessive, electric touch. "You're not listening to me," you whispered weakly, your head tilting back against his chest to give him better access.

"I am listening," Jungwon murmured against your skin, his voice incredibly deep and thick with a sudden, dark intensity. His hand glided higher up your thigh, his thumb rubbing slow, agonizing circles into your skin. "But you smell too good. And I've waited weeks for this."

You forced yourself to turn around completely in his embrace, your knees brushing against his thighs as you looked him dead in the eyes. The boyish, tired idol from the Weverse live was entirely gone. In his place was a man looking at you with a heavy, darkened gaze—an intense, almost devilish expression that made your breath catch. His eyes traced the line of your glossed lips, then dropped to the low neckline of your satin camisole, raw desire unravelling in his expression. He looked like he wanted to devour you right then and there.

"Jungwon," you whispered, the name a breathless plea.

"I tried to be patient," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "I really tried, jagi."

He didn't give you a chance to respond. Jungwon leaned in, his large hand cupping the back of your neck to tilt your head just the way he liked. His lips met yours in a slow, deeply possessive kiss. It wasn't the sweet, hesitant greeting from before; this was heavy, demanding, and thick with the built-up frustration of three weeks apart.

You let out a soft whimper against his mouth, your hands instantly tangling into his damp hair, pulling him closer. As the kiss deepened, his other hand glided smoothly up your leg, the cool satin of your shorts rustling against his warm palm. Without breaking the kiss, his fingers slipped underneath the waistband, his hand sliding fully into your shorts. Jungwon nudged his knee between yours, and you willingly gave in, parting your legs to let him settle firmly into the space between them.

You gasped into his mouth as his warm fingers found your cl*t, his palm pressing flat against you as he began to rub in slow, deliberate circles. The sudden, intense friction sent a jolt of pure heat straight through your c*nt. He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, his lips brushing against yours as his pace grew a little more urgent, his eyes locking onto yours with a fiercely dominant spark.

"You have no idea," he panted, a low growl vibrating in his chest as his hand continued to move against you, "what you do to me in this outfit."

Your hand slid down his chest, tracking the tight fabric of his shirt until your fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The moment your bare palm connected with the burning, heavy length of his c*ck, a low, guttural growl caught in Jungwon’s throat. Determined to get closer, you shifted your weight, breaking his rhythm for just a split second as you moved positions. You climbed fully into his lap, shifting until you were straddling his thighs, the fluid satin of your shorts sliding against the rough cotton of his sweats.

You finally broke the kiss, pulling back just an inch, your breaths mingling in the warm, candlelit air. "You're not wearing any underwear?" You whispered, your thumb sketching a slow, deliberate line along his length. Jungwon’s head tilted back against the pillows, a breathless, arrogant smirk breaking across his lips. "Oh," he rasped, his hooded eyes dropping to watch your hand move against him. "So you noticed."

"How could I not?" You leaned down, your chest pressing against his as you looked into his dark eyes. "Does this outfit remind you of anything? Do you remember that night we had in Chicago last year?" A deep, vivid flash of recognition lit up his face. His hands immediately flew to your hips, his fingers digging possessively into your skin as the memory took hold. "Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping into a rough, velvety register. "I remember every single second of it. That was one of the best nights of my life."

He pulled you down slightly, his lips brushing against your jaw as his grip on your hips tightened. "I've missed you so much, jagi. The phone calls... they're not enough anymore. Hearing your voice through a speaker just makes me crazy. I need your touch. I need this."

Jungwon looked up at you, his gaze blazing with unvarnished hunger as he slowly ran his tongue over his lower lip. The friction of your core resting directly over his rigid length through the thin fabric was driving him over the edge. He squeezed your hips, a desperate, dominant edge cutting into his voice. "I want you so bad right now. I can't wait."

Those words instantly flipped a switch inside you, triggering a sudden, intoxicating rush of dominance that left no room for hesitation. You shifted your weight on his lap, leaning over him just enough to hook your fingers into the waistband of your satin shorts. In one fluid, deliberate motion, you slid them down your thighs, exposing yourself completely before tossing them over the edge of the bed. They landed somewhere in the dark, forgotten.

Jungwon’s breath hitched, his eyes tracking every line of your body as you settled back onto his thighs. Without giving him a chance to recover, you reached down, your fingers gripping the waistband of his grey sweatpants. You pulled them down just past his hips, freeing him. His c*ck, already fully erect and slick with anticipation, sprang free from the fabric, casting a shadow against his stomach in the amber candlelight. You wrapped your fingers around the warm, thick length of him, giving it a soft, teasing squeeze.

A sharp jolt ran through Jungwon's entire frame, his chest heaving as a low gasp escaped his lips.

"Well, I’ve missed you too," you whispered, leaning down so your lips almost brushed his ear. Your grip tightened slightly, moving up and down in one slow, agonizing stroke. "And she missed you even more."

Jungwon’s head thudded back against the headboard, his eyes blown wide, dark and entirely consumed by admiration as he looked up at you.

Wanting to drive him completely insane, you put your hands at the edge of your satin camisole, pulling it up just enough to expose the smooth, slim curve of your stomach. You gathered spit in your mouth, your eyes locked onto his the entire time. Then, leaning forward slightly, you let it spill and drip down onto your bare skin. Both of you watched in absolute, breathless silence as the clear, glistening wetness rolled slowly, all the way down your stomach, tracing a shiny path over your abdomen and pubic bone before it finally hit your core, slicking your entrance.

Jungwon watched in pure awe, a heavy, disbelieving chuckle vibrating deep in his throat. The raw, uninhibited sexiness of what you were doing for him—completely erasing any remaining boundaries between you—hit him like a physical wave. He realized right then that you had missed him just as fiercely, just as desperately as he had missed you.

He loved it when you took control. He loved when the sweet, careful girlfriend vanished and you became entirely crazed for him, hungry for his c*ck. "God, you're so bad," Jungwon rasped, his voice dropping to a rough, gravelly growl. He reached up, his soft warm hands wrapping around your waist, his thumbs digging into your hips as he pulled you down flush against him. "Come here.”

You shifted your weight slightly, adjusting your hips as you leaned down to press another kiss to his lips. This time, it was sweet and torturously slow, a deliberate contrast to the heat building between you, making Jungwon let out a low, desperate whine against your mouth.

"Take it," he rasped, his voice thick and rough as he finally broke the kiss to breathe. "Please, jagi."

Your hands rested flat against his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart as you hovered directly over him. The heat radiating from his skin was intoxicating. You slowly guided your core right over the crown of his rigid length. Sensing your hesitation, Jungwon reached down with his hand, his fingers wrapping around the base of his own d*ck to help steady it, aligning him perfectly with your slick entrance.

You slowly began to lower your hips, letting him slide inside you inch by inch. The sensation of him stretching you open after weeks of waiting was so intense that your eyes instantly closed, a loud, breathless gasp echoing in the quiet room. Jungwon’s grip on your waist tightened instantly, his knuckles turning white against your skin as he felt how tight and warm you were around him. He watched your face, his own features contorting into a mask of pure pleasure and pain as you took all of him.

"Ah, God..." Jungwon groaned, his head tilting back against the headboard, his chest heaving as you finally sank all the way down, burying him completely inside you. He let out a long, shaky breath, his eyes opening to look up at you with a gaze full of heavy, unvarnished devotion. "You feel so good. You fit me so perfect."

You arched your back, a loud, broken moan catching in your throat as you began to grind your hips down against his, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. Even though his body was slightly sore and drained from a grueling five-hour dance practice and his bike ride, Jungwon’s natural athleticism and incredible stamina took over the moment he was inside you. He was fiercely agile, his core tight and controlled. Sensing your rhythm, he gripped your hips with intensity, taking control of the pace by powerfully pushing his hips upward to meet every single down-stroke.

"Ah, jagi... look at you," Jungwon rasped, his voice dropping to a gravelly, breathless whisper.

Your strength wavered under the sheer force of his upward thrusts, your body melting forward until your chest was resting flat against his. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, taking him in completely as your tight core desperately tried to adjust to his relentless strength and building pace. Every time he drove deep inside you, a loud, uninhibited moan echoed directly into his ear, the sound bouncing off the quiet walls of your bedroom. Hearing you lose control only fueled him. He tilted his head, his lips brushing against your burning earlobe as he kept a steady, driving rhythm beneath you.

"Yeah, let it out," he encouraged, his tone a dark, velvety murmur laced with a heavy groan as your tightness squeezed him. "Aishh, your p*ssy….Sh*t! l—I need to hear you, babe. Tell me how much you’ve missed this."

"F*ck, yes... I’ve missed this so much," you gasped out, the dirty talk slipping from your lips completely unbidden, fueled by the intoxicating friction of him deep inside you. "I've been thinking about your c*ck for weeks, Jungwon. Nothing else feels like this."

A dark, triumphant growl vibrated right through his chest. Jungwon’s eyes blew wide, a fierce spark of dominance flaring in his gaze as your words hit him. "Yeah? Tell me more, jagi. Tell me exactly what it does to you."

"It ruins me," you whimpered, your head tilting back as you forced your upper body up, breaking the contact of your chests. The shift in angle allowed him to drive even deeper from below. Jungwon didn't miss a beat; his agile hips snapped upward, his stamina proving limitless as he hit your sweetest spot with a ruthless, steady rhythm. "You're so good for me," he praised, his voice a rough, breathless pant that sent confidence rushing straight to your core. "Look at you riding me so perfectly. Such a good girl." The praise was like a drug, giving you a sudden surge of control. You reached down, grabbing his warm hands by the wrists and guiding them up your body, placing his palms directly over your breasts.

Jungwon caught on instantly. His fingers spread wide, softly squeezing the full curves through the thin, slick satin of your camisole. He thumbed your hardened nipples through the fabric, his touch tender but possessive. "So beautiful," he murmured, his hooded eyes locked onto your chest as he manipulated your skin. "Everything about you is perfect."

With his hands anchoring you, you took full charge of the momentum. You lifted your hips and began to ride him with an urgent, demanding pace. The wet friction between your core and his heavy length echoed in the quiet room, underscored by the flickering shadow of the cedarwood candle.

"Ah! Jungwon, right there. Right there!” You cried out, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you picked up the speed, your body completely synchronized with his. "Mhmm keep taking it, babe. It's all yours," he rasped, his own breath hitching as he threw his head back against the pillows, matching your frantic rhythm with powerful, unyielding thrusts from below.

You leaned over him, your palms flat against his broad, muscular shoulders for leverage. The contrast between your smooth, vanilla-scented skin and his black cotton shirt was stark in the dim amber light. With total control over the momentum, you deliberately changed up the rhythm. You went from long, slow, agonizingly deep grinds that made him catch his breath, to sudden, frantic, shallow thrusts that caught him completely off guard. Jungwon was entirely at your mercy. His head rolled back against the pillows, his jaw clenched so tightly the muscles leaped, and his long eyelashes fluttered as a broken, guttural moan tore through his throat. The usually composed, sharp leader of ENHYPEN looked beautifully wrecked beneath you, his chest heaving as he fought to keep his composure against your shifting pace.

Driven by the overwhelming heat, you lowered your gaze down to where your bodies were tightly locked together. In the flickering glow of the candle, you could clearly see the glistening reflection of your own slicked wetness and the friction of your bodies creating a creamy, white froth that combined between your thighs. Every single down-stroke was loud and wet, a sticky, intoxicating sound that echoed through the bedroom and pushed you completely over the edge.

Jungwon..." you gasped out, your voice breaking as a violent tremor rippled through your core. Your fingers dug deep into his shoulders, your hips stuttering. "I'm going to c*m. I'm close—"

"No, no—not yet, jagi," Jungwon interrupted, his voice dropping into a commanding, gravelly rasp.

His eyes snapped open, completely dark and blazing with a sudden, possessive intensity. Before you could lose control, his heavy hands flew up to grip your hips with bruising force, locking your thighs in place and forcing you to halt your rhythm. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing as he looked up at you, completely breathless. "Hold on for me. Don't c*m without me."

⸻

"Give me your hands," Jungwon rasped, his voice cutting through your breathless haze with absolute authority. He lifted his arms, holding his hands up in the air with his palms facing completely upward toward you. "Put your hands right here, jagi. Interlock your fingers with mine."

You obeyed instantly, sliding your fingers between his. His grip closed around yours tightly, warm and unyielding. The position felt intensely deliberate—it was exactly like placing your hands firmly on a bicycle's handlebars, giving you total stability while leaving him in complete control of your balance.

While holding your hands high, Jungwon shifted beneath you. He drew his knees up, sliding his bare feet flat onto the sheets directly under your thighs. The sudden movement braced his weight and instantly lifted your hips higher, tilting your pelvis at a devastatingly sharp angle that buried his heavy length even deeper inside you. A loud, broken gasp left your lips at the sudden, deeper friction, your core squeezing him impossibly tight.

"Yeah, like that," Jungwon groaned, his jaw clenching as he felt you clamp around him. He looked up at you through his dark, messy hair, a fiercely dominant smirk cutting through his breathless expression. "Use my hands as your support. Lean into me and bounce on it faster. Just like you're riding a bike, jagi."

With your hands locked together and his feet firmly planted, Jungwon's incredible core strength and athletic stamina were on full display. He was so incredibly strong that you were basically suspended on top of him, his powerful arms and braced legs easily absorbing your weight and helping you balance as you began to move. You took his cue, leaning your upper body forward against the resistance of his locked hands and began to drive your hips down in a frantic, relentless rhythm. Without your hands to hold onto his shoulders, the momentum was pure, unadulterated friction. Jungwon matched you stroke for stroke, his hips thrusting upward from the sheets with powerful, agile snaps that met you halfway every single time.

The wet, clapping sounds of your bodies colliding filled the candlelit room, entirely intoxicating. "Ah! Jungwon—f*ck…yes," you cried out, your head tossing back as you bounced harder, the “bicycle” like grip keeping you perfectly upright as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. "I've got you," he panted, his chest heaving, his fingers squeezing yours so tightly it was borderline bruising. "Don't stop, jagi. Ride me. Give me everything!"

⸻

The sheer, overwhelming depth of the new position was entirely too much. The moment you began bouncing against his braced legs, your walls clamped around him so violently that your vision went hazy at the edges.

"Jungwon, wait—I can't," you screamed, your voice breaking into a high, desperate whine as you tried to slow down. "You’re so deep. Holy sh*t…I’m gonna break!"

"No, don't stop. Stay right there with me," Jungwon ordered, his voice a raw, gravelly growl that left no room for argument. He squeezed your interlocked fingers, his biceps flexing as he held your hands steady like iron bars, keeping you perfectly balanced above him. "Look at me, jagi. Look at how much of me you’re actually taking."

You forced your eyes open, meeting his dark, blown-out gaze. His face was flushed, a bead of sweat tracing down his sharp jawline as he pushed his hips upward with a brutal, unyielding strength. "You're so big," you gasped out, completely undone by the dirty talk, your hips automatically picking up the frantic pace again. "You're stretching me so much! F*ck, your c*ck is amazing, Jungwonie!"

"F******ck," he groaned, the curse tearing from his throat as his eyes fluttered shut for a split second. Your tight core was pulsing frantically around him, driving him completely insane. He snapped his hips up harder, his toes digging into the mattress. "You feel so f*cking good around me. I’m right there, baby. Give me a few more. Just a few more please."

"Uhhh, c*m inside me," you begged, leaning forward against his locked hands, your voice thick with a desperate, building climax. "Please, Jungwon."

"I'm gonna fill you up," he rasped, his eyes snapping open, blazing with a fiercely possessive hunger. He unlocked your hands, his large palms instantly flying up to cup the back of your thighs, lifting you slightly just to slam himself into you with a final, desperate burst of stamina. "Okay, now jagi! Aishh, let’s c*m together!"

⸻

Your voice broke into a sharp, echoing scream, the sound tearing from your throat as your core completely collapsed into a violent, rhythmic spasm. It was as if his deep, commanding voice was the exact key needed to unlock your climax. His words and his breathless encouragement made your p*ssy the absolute wettest it had ever been, the sudden flood of slick heat completely dissolving whatever restraint he had left.

The sheer force of your shared orgasm was so intense that your excess wetness escaped, dripping down where your bodies were tightly locked, dripping all over his waist. Overwhelmed by the sensation, you immediately collapsed forward, clinging onto him for dear life, your entire body shuddering and twitching violently through the waves of the release. Deep inside you, Jungwon let out a loud, guttural roar that vibrated straight through your chest. His eyes rolled back, his jaw clenching so hard the muscles twitched as his body went completely weak beneath you.

You could feel his thick c*ck throb and expand aggressively inside your pulsing walls. He wrapped his powerful arms around your back, pulling you in hard—almost brutally—against his chest. He squeezed you to him with a desperate, white-knuckled grip, milking out every single drop of his hot c*m deep inside you, treating your tight body like a stress ball as he emptied himself completely.

"Ah, jagi...," he gasped, his voice breaking into a ragged, breathless whisper as the final pulses left him. The intoxicating combination of the overwhelming friction, the deep, flooding warmth inside you, and the sheer exhaustion of the moment made your muscles instantly give out. Completely spent and trembling, you both collapsed back into the tangled sheets together, chest to chest, the heavy sound of your synchronized, frantic breathing filling the quiet, still, candlelit room.

⸻

The sound of your breathing was the only thing filling the room for a long time. The scent of vanilla, sweat, and the cedarwood candle still hung thick in the air. Jungwon was the first to break the silence. His chest rose and fell beneath you, his heart still hammering a rapid rhythm against your ribs. He let out a low, disbelieving laugh that vibrated directly into you.

"That was f*cking crazy," he breathed out, his voice completely wrecked, deeper and raspier than you’d ever heard it. He slid his hands up from your waist, his palms hot against your bare, sweat-slicked skin as he began to rub your back in long, soothing strokes. The friction of his calloused hands felt grounding, trying to ease the aftershock still trembling through your muscles.

You couldn’t even find the energy to open your eyes. Your eyelids felt like lead, heavy and completely sealed shut from the sheer exhaustion of the climax. All you could manage was a soft, muffled hum against his collarbone, a weak nod of agreement. You were completely d*ck wasted—your body felt utterly limp, and heavy, melting into his solid frame like water. Every muscle in your legs and core had completely given out, leaving you entirely powerless to move off him.

"Hey," Jungwon murmured, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the crown of your head. He chuckled softly at how unresponsive you were, a flash of pure, smug satisfaction crossing his face. "You're completely gone, aren't you?" You groaned softly into his neck, your fingers weakly curling into the fabric of his tee. "I can't move..." you whispered, your voice a tiny, breathless thread.

"I can tell," he teased, though his tone was incredibly soft, dripping with an absolute, heavy adoration. He wrapped his strong arms securely around your torso, bracing his weight as he slowly began to shift. "Come here, let's get you up so we can actually lay down. Help me out a little bit, jagi."

⸻

With a gentle but firm lift of his upper body, Jungwon tried to sit you up straight on his lap. Your head rolled back slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you finally looked at him. His dark bangs were plastered to his forehead, his lips swollen and red, and his dimples poked out in a sleepy, victorious grin. "There she is," he whispered, his thumb catching a stray tear of pleasure from your cheek and wiping it away tenderly.

Jungwon’s chest rumbled with a quiet amusement as he stabilized your limp weight against him. He looked down at your half-closed eyes, then at the tangled sheets, a teasing glint returning to his eyes. "Well," he murmured, his voice dripping with playful, post-coital satisfaction. "Looks like we both got a pretty intense workout in today."

He let out a low chuckle, his shoulders shaking slightly beneath you. The joke hit your brain slowly. You wanted to roll your eyes, wanted to huff out a proper laugh at his terrible timing, but your body flatly refused to cooperate. Instead, a tiny, breathless sound escaped your throat—a weak, half-hearted giggle that died out almost immediately as you buried your face back into his neck. "Not funny," you mumbled against his warm skin, though the small smile curving your lips betrayed you. "I'm dying."

"I think my stamina might have beaten yours tonight," he teased softly, his fingers gently combing through your messy hair to pull it away from your face. Despite the joke, his touch was incredibly tender. He shifted his hips slightly, carefully helping you slide off his lap so you could both finally collapse side-by-side onto the pillows. The moment your head hit the mattress, you let out a long, pathetic sigh of relief. Jungwon immediately rolled onto his side, pulling the heavy duvet up over both of your sweat-slicked bodies. He hauled you against his chest, his legs tangling with yours.

"Sleep, jagi," he whispered into your hair, his voice dropping into a deep, comforting register as his own exhaustion finally started to catch up with him. "I've got you."

⸻

The soft, warm glow of the morning sun filtered through the cracks of your blinds, casting lazy golden lines across the tangled sheets. You shifted against the pillows, your body instantly remembering the heavy, delicious soreness from the night before. You reached out instinctively, your hand sliding across the mattress to find Jungwon—but the space beside you was empty, the sheets cool to the touch.

From down the hall, the muffled rumble of the shower pipes fading out told you exactly where he was. A few minutes later, the faint sound of a spoon clinking against a ceramic mug echoed from the kitchen. You smiled into your pillow. It was a routine you knew by heart. Jungwon was a notoriously terrible cook—he’d be the first to admit that his culinary skills didn't stretch much past boiling water or ordering delivery—but whenever he stayed over, he always insisted on trying to make you something before it was time for him to go.

A few minutes later, the bedroom door crept open with an agonizing slowness. Jungwon slipped into the room, moving with practiced quietness to avoid waking you. He was fresh from the shower, smelling of his familiar body wash and mint toothpaste. His damp hair was neatly brushed, and he had changed into a fresh set of clothing, completely put-together and ready to transform back into ENHYPEN’s leader the second he stepped outside. In his hands, he carefully balanced a small tray holding a plate of golden-brown toast and a steaming cup of coffee. As the door floor gave a tiny creak, you shuffled beneath the covers, rubbing your eyes as you slowly blinked up at him.

Jungwon froze, a look of boyish guilt crossing his face before it immediately melted into a soft, dimpled smile. "Aish, I tried to be quiet," he murmured, his voice still carrying that raspy, deep morning register. He walked over to the edge of the bed, carefully setting the tray down on the nightstand. "Did I wake you up, jagi?"

"No," you croaked, your voice thick with sleep as you pushed yourself up against the headboard, pulling the cover up to your chest. You looked at the perfectly toasted bread and the coffee. "What's all this?"

"Breakfast," he announced proudly, sitting down on the edge of the mattress beside your hips. He leaned forward, pressing a sweet, minty-fresh kiss to your cheek. "Well, as much of a breakfast as I can manage. I didn't want to risk burning your kitchen down trying to make eggs, so... toast and coffee it is." A soft laugh escaped your lips, your heart swelling at the sheer effort. He had a brutal schedule ahead of him today, yet here he was, using his limited free time to take care of you.

"It's perfect, Wonie," you smiled, reaching out to wrap your hands around the warm coffee mug. "Thank you."

"Drink it while it's hot," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with that familiar, intense warmth. He reached out, his thumb gently smoothing down a stray piece of your morning hair. "I have to leave for the dorms in about 15 minutes, but I wanted to make sure you were awake to eat first."

"You're so sweet," you murmured, leaning forward to press a quick, grateful kiss to his lips before taking a slow sip of the coffee. The warm liquid instantly started to wake you up, but it also made you realize your bladder was completely full. "Hold that thought, I have to use the bathroom." You tossed the cover aside and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress. The moment your feet hit the floor and you stood up, a sharp, heavy ache radiated directly through your hips and core—a fierce reminder of exactly how hard he had driven you into the mattress the night before.

Jungwon was sitting on the edge of the bed, mindlessly scrolling through his schedule on his phone, but his sharp eyes quickly snapped up to follow you as you began to walk past him. You let out a soft huff, followed by a small, involuntary whine, your hands instinctively reaching down to steady your lower back. Your legs felt like jelly, and you were visibly limping, your gait stiff and awkward.

Jungwon’s eyebrows instantly knit together in concern, his phone lowering. "Jagi, you okay? You’re walking kinda funny."

You stopped right outside the bathroom door, turning around to look at him. A dry, highly sarcastic laugh escaped your lips. "Yeah, Jungwon. I wonder why. I wonder what could have possibly happened last night to make my hips hurt this much."

A sudden, sheepish look crossed his face. The confident, dominant guy from last night completely vanished, replaced by a flushed, apologetic boyfriend who realized he might have gotten a little too carried away with his own desire. He bit his lip, a tiny, guilty dimple showing. "Okay, okay... I’m sorry. Not funny." Even though he apologized, he couldn't just sit there. Jungwon immediately stood up from the bed, his athletic frame moving effortlessly as he walked over to you, meeting you right at the bathroom threshold. He placed his warm hands on your shoulders, peering into your face with genuine, sweet concern to make sure you were actually okay and not seriously hurt.

"I really am sorry," he murmured softly, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "I just missed you too much. Do you need me to get you some pain medicine before I go?"

"No baby, I'm fine," you smiled, the sarcasm melting away at how genuinely caring he was being. "Just a hot shower will help. Go get ready, you're gonna be late."

"Okay. Call me if it doesn't get better," he warned gently, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before stepping back to give you privacy.

⸻

You slowly limped out of the bathroom, your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you made your way into the entryway. Your bottom lip naturally pushed out into a heavy pout. You absolutely hated this part. The crushing weight of reality always set in the moment he put his sneakers back on. It was a constant, quiet ache—the reminder that you had to share him with millions of people, that your time together was measured in fleeting midnight hours while the rest of his life belonged to the world. Jungwon caught the look on your face instantly. Reading your emotions like an open book, he set his helmet back down on the shoe rack without a word. He opened his arms wide, a soft, understanding look softening his features.

"Awe, come here," he murmured.

You didn't hesitate, stepping straight into his chest. Jungwon wrapped his strong arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, burying his face in your hair. He began to sway you gently back and forth right there by the front door, a comforting, rhythmic motion that felt like his way of trying to anchor you to him before he had to leave you.

After a long moment, he shifted, pulling back just enough to look down at you. His face was only inches away from yours. As you looked up, meeting his large, cat-like eyes, the sheer depth of affection in his gaze made your throat tighten. It was the kind of look that made you feel so completely seen, so utterly loved, that it almost made you want to cry. "Hey," he said softly, his minty-fresh breath fanning warmly across your face. "I love you. You know that, right?"

"I know," you whispered, your fingers clutching the fabric of his jacket. "I love you too."

"I had an amazing time last night," Jungwon continued, his voice dropping into a serious, deeply intimate register. His thumbs lightly stroked your hips, keeping you close. "But... next time I come over, we are definitely doing more. We should actually watch a movie. Or play that video game we talked about. Not just sex." He paused, his gaze softening even further as he noticed the slight surprise in your expression. He squeezed your waist gently, wanting to make himself perfectly clear. "Don't get me wrong, jagi—I love having s*x with you," he murmured, a faint, honest flush rising on his cheeks. "You're my girlfriend, and I always want you, and honestly, I need that intimacy with you from time to time to keep me sane. Last night was incredible. But I value our relationship so much more than just that."

A soft, genuine wave of relief and warmth washed over you, and you immediately nodded in agreement. Hearing him say that out loud meant everything. It was the ultimate reassurance that you weren't just a secret escape or a late-night convenience after a stressful day. Jungwon didn't want your connection to be purely physical; he valued the quiet, normal, domestic moments with you just as much—if not more. He wanted dates, the lazy couch conversations, and the simple companionship that his idol life so rarely allowed.

"I'd really love that," you murmured, a genuine smile finally replacing your pout. "A movie night sounds perfect, actual."

"Then it's a promise," he smiled, his dimples flashing quickly before he leaned down to press a firm, lingering kiss to your lips—sweet, chaste, and entirely full of promise for the next time.

⸻

You slowly pulled away from the warmth of his chest, the absence of his arms leaving a sudden, chilly draft against your fresh satin pajamas. Reaching over to the shoe rack, you picked up his sleek black helmet and handed it to him, your fingers lingering against his for a final, quiet second. Right on cue, a sharp vibration echoed from his jacket pocket. Jungwon pulled out his phone, the screen illuminating his face as he scanned a quick KakaoTalk message. "Manager-hyung," he said with a small, reluctant sigh, slipping the device back away. "The van just pulled up at the corner of the block. I have to go now."

You nodded, swallowing down the sudden knot of loneliness in your throat, and stepped over to the front door. You turned the deadbolt and pulled it open, letting the bright, crisp morning air of the city neighborhood rush into the warm apartment. Jungwon grabbed the handlebars of his road bike, effortlessly lifting the frame and sliding it out into the hallway, positioning it so he could wheel it toward the elevator. Before crossing the threshold completely, Jungwon stopped. He turned back around, his eyes catching the morning light, holding your gaze with an intensity that promised he was leaving his heart behind in your apartment.

"Lock the door right after I leave, okay? And eat the rest of that toast," he ordered gently, his leadership instincts subtly bleeding into his boyfriend persona.

"I will, don't worry.” You smiled, leaning against the doorframe. "Have a good day today, baby. Try not to overwork yourself."

"I'll try, jagi," he murmured, his dimples peeking out one last time. "I'll call you tonight after my schedules are done."

"I'll be waiting."

As he stepped backward down the hallway, guiding his bike with one hand, you raised your hand to your lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your palm before blowing it down the corridor toward him. Jungwon caught it with a silent sweet grin, a soft flush creeping up his neck as he gave you one final, reassuring nod. You watched him until the elevator doors slid shut, hiding him from view. Stepping back inside, you closed the heavy door and flipped the deadbolt, the quiet safety of your apartment settling back over you, still smelling faintly of vanilla, cedarwood, and him.

©️ all images above were captured and edited by me, taken from Jungwon’s Live. Dividers by original owners, credits to you. Hope you enjoyed, leave a comment. Likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated! I love to write ♡

[sacrificemura]

midnight fix ✦ | 양정원

pairings : boyfriend!jungwon x fem!reader

warnings : smut MINORS DNI, explicit sexual content,, rough make-up sex, anger-fueled sex, power imbalance/dominant behavior, mild degradation, borderline cnc (consensual non-consent) themes, edging/pleasure denial, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirt, gushing, sex toy use (vibrator), dirty talk, spanking, marking (biting), unprotected sex, creampie/internal ejaculation idk what else

wc : 1,7k

the day had been a fucking nightmare. the summer heat clung to every inch of your skin like a second, sticky layer, turning the vacation house into a pressure cooker. you’d dragged jungwon from boutique to boutique, buzzing with excitement as you tried on light summer tops that barely covered your tits, flowy dresses that swirled around your thighs, and those tiny skirts that made your ass look incredible in the mirror.

but with every stop, he grew quieter, more withdrawn. arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes flicking to his phone instead of you. sweat beaded on his forehead, his black tank top sticking to his lean, toned chest.

“what do you think of this one, won?” you asked, twirling in a slinky little red sundress that hugged your curves just right, the hem riding high on your legs.

“it’s fine,” he muttered, barely glancing up, wiping sweat from his brow. “can we go home? it’s too goddamn hot out here.”

his flat tone hit like a slap. your temper flared instantly. “you can spend hours cruising around with your boys, windows down, music blasting, laughing like idiots. but when i want one afternoon where i feel pretty and you actually pay attention to me, suddenly it’s too much? wow, jungwon. real fucking nice.”

the argument exploded in the car on the way back.

you were sharp, spitting fire about how he never made an effort anymore. he stayed distant, voice low and clipped, eyes locked on the road. by the time you pulled up to the vacation house, the silence was suffocating—no music, no touches, just thick, angry tension humming between you. he slammed the door and headed straight to the bedroom without another word.

hours dragged by.

the house was dark and quiet, the only sounds the distant hum of cicadas outside and the occasional creak of the old wooden floors. you’d planned to crash on the couch, still pissed, but you needed your pajamas.

you pushed open the bedroom door, the room lit only by faint moonlight spilling through the half-open window, casting silvery shadows across the bed.

and there he was.

jungwon lay on his side, black tanktop, the white sheet draped low over his narrow hips, his dark hair was tousled, strands falling messily over his forehead. one arm was tucked under his head, the other resting on the mattress, muscles subtly flexing.

his eyes—those intense, doe ones that always made your knees weak—locked onto you immediately. no words.

just raw, burning hunger mixed with something deeper, like he’d been lying there replaying the fight, stewing in it, waiting for you to walk through that door so he could fix it his way.

your breath hitched, anger warring with the sudden throb between your legs.

“what are you doing?” you tried to snap, but it came out breathier than you wanted.

he didn’t answer. instead, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping firmly around your wrist and yanked you forward. you tumbled onto the bed, landing straddling his lap, your hands bracing against his chest. the heat of his skin burned into your palms, his heart pounding hard beneath them.

“jungwon—”

“stop.” his voice was low, rough, commanding. his other hand gripped your hip, fingers digging in possessively, holding you exactly where he wanted. “drop the fucking attitude. i know i was an asshole today. hot, tired, whatever. but you’ve been pushing me all day too.”

you pushed against his chest, still mad, but he was stronger—much stronger. he flipped you effortlessly onto your back, pinning you beneath his body. his weight pressed you into the mattress, all hard muscle and scorching skin. those dark eyes bored into yours, intense and unyielding, sending a fresh rush of wetness soaking your panties.

“you think you can talk to me like that?” he growled against your ear, teeth grazing your lobe. “all day i’ve been thinking about you, how wet you get when i put you in your place. i’m gonna fuck that attitude right out of you tonight. slowly until you’re crying my name and creaming all over my cock like the needy slut you are for me.”

you whimpered, hips bucking up instinctively, grinding against the thick, hardening bulge in his sweatpants. he kissed you then. his tongue pushed past your lips, sliding hot and wet against yours in messy strokes, tasting you like he was starving.

the kiss went on and on, tongues tangling, teeth nipping, saliva mixing as you both moaned into it. his hands roamed, shoving your shirt up and yanking it off, then palming your tits roughly, thumbs circling your hard nipples until you arched into him.

he stripped you methodically, savoring every inch. kissing down your neck, sucking marks into your collarbone, biting the swell of your breasts.

when you were finally naked beneath him, trembling and dripping, he reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out the small bullet vibrator you’d packed “just in case.”

he clicked it on low, the buzzing filling the room, and pressed it firmly against your swollen clit.

“fuck— won!” you cried out, thighs shaking as two of his thick fingers slid easily into your soaked pussy. he curled them perfectly, stroking that spot inside you while the vibrator buzzed relentlessly. the dual sensation was overwhelming, the pleasure was building fast and sharp.

he watched you the whole time, eyes dark with lust, lips parted. “look at you. so fucking wet already. this pussy is clenching around my fingers like it missed me all day.” he pumped them slower, then faster, edging you right to the brink before pulling the vibrator away. you sobbed in frustration, hips chasing the lost sensation.

“not yet,” he murmured, voice dripping with control. he kissed down your stomach, licking a stripe along your inner thigh. “you made me wait in every damn store. now you wait for me.”

he edged you again and again—three, four times—until you were a shaking, sobbing, dripping mess. tears streaked your cheeks, your voice hoarse from begging. “please, wonnie… i’m sorry—i’ll be so good, just let me cum—”

finally, he shoved his sweatpants down, his thick, veiny cock springing free, hard and leaking. he rubbed the fat head up and down your slick folds, teasing your entrance, coating himself in your arousal. “eyes on me,” he ordered.

you locked gazes as he pushed in—slow, inch by inch, stretching you open so perfectly it bordered on pain and bliss.

he bottomed out with a deep groan, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged. “fuck, you feel incredible. so tight. so warm. this pussy was made for my cock.”

then he started moving. deep, rolling thrusts that hit every sensitive spot inside you. the vibrator returned to your clit on the lowest setting, buzzing mercilessly while he fucked you with controlled power.

sweat slicked your bodies, the sound of skin slapping skin and your wet pussy taking him filling the room. he whispered filthy praise the whole time, voice rough and wrecked:

“you’re taking me so well, baby. look how deep i am—feel that? gonna ruin this cunt for anyone else. you’re mine. say it.”

“i’m yours—fuck, won, i’m yours!” you gasped, nails raking down his back.

he fucked you like that for ages, building you up and pulling back, drawing it out until you were delirious. then he threw your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, and pounded harder.

the new angle made you scream, the vibrator still pressed tight. your first orgasm crashed through you like lightning—walls spasming violently around his cock, gushing around him as you wailed his name.

he didn’t stop. he fucked you through it, growling, then flipped you onto your stomach. he yanked your hips up, ass in the air, and slammed back in from behind. a hard spank landed on your ass, the sting blooming hot.

“again,” he demanded, voice pure gravel. “cum on my cock again like a good fucking girl.”

you did—twice more, each one more intense, your body shaking uncontrollably as he railed you. his dirty talk never stopped, “fuck, look at this pretty ass bouncing on me. you’re creaming so much, baby—making a fucking mess all over my balls. such a sloppy, perfect little hole for me.”

he grabbed the vibrator again, pressing it hard against your overstimulated clit while he thrust deep and fast.

your fourth orgasm ripped through you, so powerful your vision whited out, pussy squirting around his cock as you sobbed into the pillow.

only then did jungwon let go. he buried himself to the hilt, hips stuttering as he came with a guttural moan of your name, flooding your pulsing cunt with thick, hot ropes of cum.

you felt every pulse, every spurt filling you up.

but he wasn’t done.

he stayed inside you, slowly grinding, fucking his cum deeper while you twitched and whimpered. he pulled out just enough to flip you onto your back again, then slid back in with a wet, filthy sound. his body covered yours completely, hips moving in lazy, deep strokes that kept his cum leaking out around his cock.

“give me one more, baby” he whispered hotly against your lips, kissing you slow and dirty. “i want to feel you fall apart while i’m still buried in you. milk every last drop out of me, baby.”

you were exhausted, oversensitive, but the way he moved—grinding against your clit with every thrust, whispering how perfect you felt, how much he loved wrecking you—pushed you over one final time.

a deep, rolling orgasm that made your toes curl and your walls flutter endlessly around him. you clung to his shoulders, moaning into his mouth as he kept fucking you through it, drawing it out until you were a boneless, trembling wreck.

jungwon finally stilled, still deep inside you, his cock twitching with aftershocks. he kissed you possessively, tongue lazy and claiming, one hand tangled in your hair while the other gripped your thigh.

“next time you’re pissed,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied, lips brushing yours, “just remember how good i make you feel, yeah?”

you shivered beneath him, already feeling the heat building again as he started to move once more—slow, deliberate, ready to pull another orgasm from your exhausted body before the night was over.

@sacrificemura please do not copy, steal, repost, translate, or claim my work as your own.

all stories and edits belong to me — ᨳଓ .