ains🌸

24

[sunflowerhyun]

you in me | hwang hyunjin au | six

— SUMMARY. In which Y/N didn’t expect to hook-up with her bias, and Hyunjin didn’t expect to fall in love with her.

— GENRE. idol!hyunjin, strangers-to-lovers au

— PAIRING. hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

— WC. 8.8k+

— WARNINGS/OTHER. cursing ; alcohol consumption ; lots of overthinking ; lots of flirting ; sexual tension ; mentions of sex ; smut consisting of making out & dry humping

NOTE. a chapter entirely in y/n’s pov 🙂‍↔️ (don’t hate her, she’s just a girl </3)

ᝰ SEVEN | SERIES M.LIST

Mamihlapinatapei (Yagan) — the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so

The water is cool enough now that goosebumps have started rising across Y/N’s skin, but she still hasn’t moved. Her knees are pulled loosely to her chest beneath the bubbles, damp hair sticking to the back of her neck, her phone clutched in both hands like it might explode. Kat is still on speaker, pacing around her apartment in New York while Y/N is currently sitting in a hotel bathroom in freaking Florence having what feels suspiciously close to a nervous breakdown.

“Read me the message again.” Kat commands through the phone, Y/N’s grip on her phone only tightening.

“No.”

“Seriously? You’re gatekeeping romance!”

“This is not romance.”

“A man you haven’t spoken to in four years found you in Italy, of all places, and opened with this is either fate or a terrible idea. That is literally a romance novel, Y/N.” Kat snorts in reply, and Y/N has the sudden urge to throw her phone across the bathroom, dropping her forehead against her knees.

The worst part is that Kat isn’t entirely wrong. It is romantic, very Hyunjin-coded, and it has her wanting to scream.

Y/N’s been staring at his message for almost ten minutes now. She had swiped back out to check his profile half of that time just to make sure it was really him. And every time she did that, she’d be greeted with all his posts that she just knows she’ll spend an entire evening immersed in if she didn’t force herself to click out of it.

This just cannot be actually happening right now.

Just as she’s about to swipe out of the conversation again, the typing bubble pops up, and her heart jumps so hard it actually annoys her.

Typing… and then nothing. Typing… and then nothing.

Y/N stares at the little bubble like it personally insulted her.

“He keeps typing and stopping,” She mutters out, the instant shriek from the other line causing her to instantly regret even saying that.

“Oh, he is spiraling! Spi-ral-ing!”

“Kat, please. He is not!”

“Oh, but he absolutely is! And I am loving it, I’ll tell you that.”

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek, trying not to smile, but ultimately failing. Because she can picture it too easily—Hyunjin sitting somewhere in another hotel room across Florence, staring at his phone with his brows furrowed, deleting and re-writing sentences because he thinks too much and feels too much.

That’s the thing people never really understood about him. Everyone saw his stage aura first, beauty second, talent third. Y/N knows that because she was one of those people, softly admiring from a distance. But what ruined her was the softness underneath all of it—the nervousness, the sincerity. The way he’d looked at her four years ago like wanting her made him feel uneasy. The way he opened up to her about his constant battles with anxiety. The way his eyes formed crescents when he laughed and the nervous habit of running his fingers through his hair whenever he’d talk to her about his life.

Y/N blinks, desperately trying to tune back in to reality and comprehend what Kat was currently blabbering about. Just as she was about to interrupt her rant on how this entire situation is giving major K-Drama vibes, another notification catches her attention, her eyes locking down on the new text instantly.

hyunjin: I’m still trying to figure out if messaging you was brave or catastrophically stupid

A laugh escapes her before she can stop it. She could feel the butterflies erupting in her stomach, briefly reminding her of how she felt the first night she met him. She was a little star struck at first, (can you blame her?), but that quickly dissolved once she got to know him as just Hyunjin and not Hyunjin from Stray Kids. And getting to know him, to touch him, to kiss him—he had stopped feeling untouchable and became devastatingly human instead. And somehow, that was worse.

She remembers every detail too vividly. The warm glow of her bedside lamp hitting his face just right. The muffled bass downstairs only growing more faint once his lips finally touched hers. The moment he looked at her and she realized he was nervous, too.

God. She can still remember how his lips felt against hers, how he dominated her so easily, how he fucked her until the only name she knew was his. Her face heats up instantly, her core clenching, the butterflies in her stomach only growing wilder.

“You’re thinking about him right now, aren’t you?”

Y/N blinks, feeling her face heat up even more, “Shut up. I hate you.”

“I love you, too,” Kat sings back. Y/N could just hear the smirk on her lips.

She ignores her, choosing instead to grab ahold of her phone, desperately trying not to drop it in this bathwater from how bad her hands were shaking right now. She exhales loudly, biting her lip slightly as she types back a response.

y/n: depends. should i be concerned?

The typing bubble pops back up almost immediately, and he’s already responding before she can re-evaluate her response.

hyunjin: Probably.

hyunjin: I’ve rewritten every message to you at least four times already

Y/N bites her lip harder. The butterflies are only getting worse.

y/n: that’s a little embarrassing for you

hyunjin: You make me nervous enough to lose basic motor skills, apparently

Y/N can’t help the quiet laugh that escapes her mouth, a giddy smile making its way onto her face as she re-reads his message. Honestly, she’s a little bewildered, because how in the hell does she make him nervous? There is absolutely no world where she’d think that would even happen.

“Are you flirting with him right now or some shit?” Kat’s voice echoes through the speakers, “What’s he saying? What did you say? Don’t be a little bitch and leave me out.”

“He’s not… we’re not flirting,” Y/N replies, eyes still zeroed in on his last text as she re-reads it about five more times.

“Not flirting, my ass,” Kat replies loudly, and Y/N could hear some shuffling over the line, about to ask her what she’s doing to change the subject when she’s speaking again, “You know he hid behind the art columns when he saw you earlier today, right? Or should I say, stalked you.”

“What?” She replies, trying not to laugh but failing, as that doesn’t seem to surprise her at all.

“Yep. Chan told me. I hope you use that against him and never live that down.”

Y/N shakes her head in amusement, a warm feeling blooming in her chest as she adverts her attention back towards her phone.

y/n: nervous enough to hide behind a column, apparently

She watches him type and stop a few times, relaxing her body more in the bath, biting her finger through a grin with one hand while the other holds her phone up.

hyunjin: Okay… not my best moment, I’ll admit.

hyunjin: If I was going to fall over and die from a heart attack, I would have rather done that where you couldn’t see me

y/n: why would that even happen in the first place?

hyunjin: You looked so beautiful I really think my heart would’ve stopped if I saw you up close

Y/N sinks further into the bath, a giddy feeling flowing through her, consuming her entire body. He’s definitely flirting with her right now, and somehow she’s flirting back without even trying. It feels easy, too easy—like there isn’t four years sitting awkwardly between them. And that’s the dangerous part.

Her fingers move before she can overthink it.

y/n: you’ve survived performing in front of stadiums but seeing me up close is where you fall apart?

There’s a pause this time, long enough for her to notice. The seen underneath her reply almost seems like it’s taunting her, and her stomach twists unexpectedly. Did she say too much? Should she have said something else?

She stares at the screen longer than necessary. Kat notices the shift, because of course she does.

“Okay, what happened?”

“He left me on read.”

“Oh my god,” Kat laughs in slight disbelief, and Y/N narrows her eyes at her phone even though she can’t see her.

“I’m serious! He was replying fast before, and now he’s just left me on read. He isn’t even typing.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know what to even tell you, considering you won’t tell me what the hell you’ve been saying.”

Before she can reply, the typing bubble appears, causing her breath to hitch in her throat. She watches it for a second before it disappears completely, and her chest tightens.

She feels bad. Maybe she made him uncomfortable somehow. Maybe bringing up his career reminded him of the imbalance between them once again. Because back then, even though she’d tried to not to show it before she painfully admitted he was her bias, she knew what she was to him.

A fan. A girl who already knew his face before he knew hers.

But somewhere during that night, that dynamic had dissolved into something else, something frighteningly real.

Her phone buzzes in her hand, knocking her out of her thoughts. She glances down immediately.

hyunjin: Performing is easier. I know what I’m doing there

hyunjin: You’ve always made me feel a little out of control, though

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat, heat rushing through her instantly despite the now cool bathwater, because she remembers. God, she remembers.

The way his hands tightened on her waist when she kissed him back harder. The way he looked at her after he fucked her, slightly dazed, like he hadn’t expected her to affect him that much.

Her heart pounds violently in her chest as she re-reads his texts over and over again.

“Come on, Y/N! What did he say? What’s happening?”

Y/N stares at the messages for another second before clearing her throat slightly, shifting a little in the bathwater before quietly reading them out loud. Saying it out loud seems worse than reading it inside her own head, yet that giddy feeling inside her stays the same nonetheless.

“Holy shit,” Kat makes a wounded noise, “That is disgusting.”

“What?”

“In a romantic way. Disgusting. I hate him.”

Y/N laughs softly, but her chest aches a little now, too. She’s thinking about that night she spent with him again—how every emotion seemed to live visibly in his eyes no matter how hard he tried hiding it, how he kissed her like he was afraid wanting her too much might ruin him.

Kat lets out an annoyed groan on the line, “Are you thinking about him again?”

“No,” She replies quickly, defensively.

“Yeah right. I can smell your arousal from here.”

“Kat!” Y/N groans out, a modified look on her face as she glares at the phone, “That’s literally disgusting! Would you just shut up?”

Her phone lights up with another notification.

hyunjin: Can I see you while you’re here?

And there it is—the question that’s she’s been slowly anticipating since he first messaged her. Her pulse jumps immediately, and she stares at the words for a long moment before typing back.

y/n: what, like in public?

hyunjin: Yeah. I was thinking maybe we could go to dinner? There’s this nice place by the river I was thinking we could go to

hyunjin: Or we could walk around the city a bit, maybe go to another museum

hyunjin: I could pretend to know things about art and impress you

She can already picture it clearly. Hyunjin walking beside her through Florence at night with his hands in his pockets, his hair falling into his eyes while he says something completely off the wall about paintings just to make her laugh. It sounds dangerously nice, too nice, and that’s exactly why panic starts to creep in.

Being out in public with him makes it seem real, allows them to be seen. Public means people recognizing him, approaching him, taking pictures of him—doing anything to get his attention. And underneath all of that is the much scarier truth where she doesn’t trust herself around him, not when one conversation already has her feeling like this.

She doesn’t know if she’s ready for that.

Her fingers hesitate before typing.

y/n: i don’t know if being in public is a good idea

The typing bubble appears instantly, then disappears. It comes back, then disappears again. And Y/N is immediately regretting everything.

“Shit,” She mumbles to herself, scooting up a little in the bathtub.

“What happened now?” Kat asks quickly.

“I think I hurt his feelings.”

Kat snorts in amusement, “What? You did not.”

“I did,” Y/N strains out, eyes focused on the fact that he’s not typing again, “He left me on read again. And he isn’t typing.”

Kat calls her name in brief annoyance, and Y/N’s mind starts spiraling. What if he thinks she’s embarrassed of him, or doesn’t want to be seen with him? What if he thinks she actually doesn’t want to see him at all?

Does she want to see him?

He’s finally replying before she can form another thought, and her chest squeezes tight.

hyunjin: Yeah.

hyunjin: Sorry. That was probably selfish of me to ask

Y/N’s eyes widened immediately, panic flooding through her body, because that’s not what she meant. That’s not what she meant at all.

y/n: no, that’s not what i meant

y/n: i want to see you.

hyunjin: You do?

The vulnerability in those two words wrecks her instantly.

y/n: yes

y/n: i do

hyunjin: You could come here instead

Suddenly, her mind is back there again. It’s back to her white sheets, the soft lighting, his hands sliding carefully over her waist, the feeling of him pulling her closer like he couldn’t stop himself. She can still feel him on her, all over her.

She bites her lip, leaning her head back against the bathtub, debating on what she should do. Does she want to see him again? Yes. There’s zero hesitation there. But does she think this is a good idea? Probably not.

But right now, she can’t bring herself to care that much.

“He invited me to his hotel,” Y/N chokes out quietly, interrupting another rant that Kat was in the middle of. It’s quiet for a minute, and then—

“Wait, hold the fuck up!”

Y/N barely hears her, because she’s staring at the screen while another message appears.

hyunjin: Only if you want to

hyunjin: If it’s too much, you don’t have to. I just want you to be comfortable

y/n: you’re very bad at trying to be casual

hyunjin: Only with you

“Bitch, I’m about to hang up if you don’t tell me what’s happening!” Kat’s voice shrieks through the room. And before she can lose her nerve, before she can remember every reason that this is dangerous territory, she’s already sending back a reply.

y/n: send me the hotel name

By the time Y/N reaches the St. Regis, she’s already reconsidered every decision that led her here twice. Well, maybe three times. Okay, five.

The hotel glows softly against the Florence night, all old world elegance, expensive in the kind of understated way that makes her suddenly hyperaware of herself the second she walks through the front doors. Her heels click way too loudly against the floor, and she instantly regrets wearing them. Kat had convinced her to wear them, as it made her look more classy and elegant, (her words), fitting right up Hyunjin’s vibe. Y/N genuinely doesn’t think Hyunjin would care what she showed up in, but she does admit that she wants to look nice for him, even if that means wearing a pair of heels.

She spent almost two hours getting ready. And within those two hours, she had changed outfits four different times. Everything either felt too dressy, too casual, or too I’m trying to look hot for the guy I used to be emotionally obsessed with, until she finally settled on something simple enough to seem accidental, but flattering enough to make her feel pretty. Dark jeans, a low-cut black top, and lip gloss she reapplied three separate times in the taxi over here. Not because she wanted to impress him, but because she absolutely wanted to impress him.

She pauses once she walks a little further inside, fingers tightening slightly around the strap on her purse as she glances around the lobby. Everything is polished wood and velvet seating, quiet piano music somewhere in the distance. Of course Hyunjin would stay somewhere beautiful enough to feel completely unreal.

Her phones buzzes in her back pocket, and she pulls it out quickly.

hyunjin: You made it?

It’s ridiculous how easily he still affects her, even through a text. She’s a twenty-six year old woman with a career and a lease and student loans and enough trauma bay experience to function during literal emergencies. And yet, somehow, one text from him still makes her nervous system collapse.

“Miss Y/N?” A voice startles her, causing her to jump slightly. She glances up to see a man in a dark suit standing in front of her, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Yes?” She replies, although it comes out more so of a squeak than an actual response.

“Good evening,” He smiles at her politely, ignoring her embarrassment, “You may follow me.”

Y/N blinks at him, “Excuse me?”

For a second, she wonders if he’s nicely escorting her back outside, seeing as in she definitely doesn’t belong here. But when he takes a step forward towards the elevators on the right, her eyes light up in realization.

“We’ve been expecting you,” He states calmly, still polite as ever, and Y/N feels a little embarrassed all of a sudden, “Mr. Hwang asked me to bring you to his room. Would you like me to carry your purse for you?”

“Oh, no, I’m okay! Thank you,” She manages to get out without embarrassing herself again, and he nods once before gesturing over towards the elevator doors that are now open and waiting on them to step inside.

She tries very hard not to look visibly panicked as he closes the doors and the elevator begins moving up. They ride in silence, save for the constant thumping of her heartbeat blaring in her ears from how nervous she is. Her getting escorted to his room only intensifies that feeling, because it’s a clear reminder that Hyunjin can’t exactly have random people wandering around his hotel. She knows it’s for security reasons, but it doesn’t make it any less nerve-wracking.

The thought does something strange to her chest. Not because he’s famous, but because he had prepared for her, expected her, wanted her here enough to arrange this all in advance.

This is crazy. This is so, so crazy. And suddenly, she’s becoming consumed with the same feeling she had whenever he followed her up to her room four years ago.

The elevator doors opening again catches her attention, and she gulps nervously once the employee gestures her out into a hallway that’s way too quiet for how loud her mind is right now.

“He’s in room 417,” He speaks quietly, still ever so polite, gesturing towards the door that was towards his right.

“Thank you,” Y/N manages to force out, tightening her grip on her purse strap ever so slightly. He smiles at her one more time before getting back onto the elevator, and then she’s left alone.

Suddenly, everything feels too real, and she’s painfully aware of where she is and what she’s doing. And what is she doing, exactly? What is she doing standing inside a luxury hotel in Italy when her entire outfit was bought on sale? What is she doing standing right outside Hyunjin’s hotel room?

She should turn around. She should turn around, take the elevator back down to the lobby, walk out like nothing happened, and then block his account. She thinks about it for a half a second before deciding against it, taking in a deep breath before stepping closer to his door, giving it two, shaky, barely there knocks.

Immediately, she hears movement inside, which weirdly makes her feel slightly better, like maybe he’s nervous too. There’s a brief pause, and then the door opens, and then everything in her brain stops working for a second.

He’s beautiful. That thought hits her with humiliating force. Four years somehow made him worse for her. Much worse.

His dark hair falls softly over his forehead, slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it. He’s dressed casually in black dress pants and a navy sweater that hangs loosely off his body, his rings on his fingers glinting under the hotel light. And his face… god, his face… is just as soft, just as intense as she remembers. It’s truly unfair how perfect he looks standing barefoot in a hotel doorway, and for a moment, it stuns her. But what gets her the most is how his entire expression changes at once, like he almost forgot what she actually looked like and now regrets every second of that.

For a second, neither of them says anything. Y/N suddenly becomes painfully aware of herself—her hair, her makeup, her heartbeat, the fact that she suddenly cannot remember how human interaction works. And how could she when the one man who has taken up every single thought in her brain for years is standing directly in front of her?

“Hi.” He breathes out suddenly, his voice sending shivers down her spine.

“Hi.” She says back, quieter than intended, feeling like she’s struggling to breathe.

His eyes move over her slowly, carefully, almost like he’s trying to memorize her again. His gaze is so intense that it has her visibly shivering, the movement causing his eyes to flicker back up to her face, “You came.”

“Well,” She replies lightly, desperately trying to sound normal, “You did send a very persuasive series of messages.”

He smiles, and it tugs at her chest in a way that instantly has her thinking back to that night in her bedroom when he looked at her the same exact way.

“Yeah, sorry about the multiple text messages,” He rubs the back of his neck, the tip of his ears reddening slightly, “You almost didn’t answer me.”

“Very true. I’m surprised you noticed that.”

“I notice many things when it comes to you, Y/N.”

The words land softly, too softly, like he didn’t even realize how intimate they sounded. Or maybe he did. Either way, it does something embarrassing to her body.

“Very smooth.” She tries to ease the tension that keeps brewing between them, her face only heating up even more once he smiles at her.

“It’s true, though. Kind of hard to not notice.”

Her stomach tightens instantly, because there’s something about the way he says it. The dark glint in his eyes doesn’t go unnoticed as he briefly drops his gaze down her body before focusing back on her face, his eyes widening slightly.

“Sorry,” He says quickly, stepping away from the door, “Please, come in.”

Y/N walks inside carefully, her eyes instantly drawn towards the interior of the suite. It’s gorgeous, expensive, and doesn’t do a great job at easing her nerves. If anything, it only intensifies the feeling, as she’s, once again, reminded of how completely their lives are and why she’s even here in the first place.

She tries to ignore that feeling, the soft click of the door closing behind her catching her attention, but only for a second before her focus shifts towards the perfectly made bed towards her right. There’s an expensive looking bottle of red wine sitting beside two glasses on the small table near it, and suddenly, all she can think about is the last time she saw him in a room with a bed—the last time she was this close to him, the last time his hands were on her.

Heats floods straight to her neck, and she swallows thickly, desperately trying to focus on anything else. Anything but him.

Although that’s very difficult to do, considering she’s inside his hotel room right now.

What is she doing here?

“You look nervous.” Hyunjin’s voice startles her, and she quickly turns her head towards him, her pulse thumping loudly against her skin.

“I’m not nervous.”

Lie.

“Really?” Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips, “Hm. I beg to differ. You’re shaking like a leaf right now.”

“I am not,” She says a little more defensively, his smirk only widening, “If anything, you’re the nervous one.”

Another lie.

“I won’t deny that,” He laughs softly, the sound easing the tension in her shoulders slowly, “I guess I’m just better at hiding it than you are.”

He must be, because right now, he looks completely unaffected by her presence, while she’s currently trying not to pass out on this floor.

She doesn’t reply, choosing instead to stand awkwardly in his suite, trying not to visibly stare at him while also failing completely.

Four years ago, Hyunjin had been famous in the kind of way that felt unreal to her. He was successful, easily recognizable, and intimidatingly pretty. And although he’s still those things now, he’s also something else entirely.

He’s global campaigns. Sold out stadiums. Millions upon millions of people obsessed with him. And somehow, none of that compares to the simple reality of him standing six feet away in a hotel room looking at her like this, like he already knows she’s affected by him and is absolutely delighted by that fact.

“You can stop looking at me like I’m going to disappear, you know,” He says lightly, his voice a lot closer to her than she thought.

Y/N blinks hard, “I wasn’t.”

“You were,” He says quickly, knowingly, standing a little closer to her. She could smell the sweet scent of his cologne, and it was starting to make her feel dizzy.

She watches him as he walks towards the table, her grip tightening even more on the strap of her purse once he begins to pop the cork open on the bottle of wine. He glances at her, holding the bottle in his hand, and Y/N tries not to focus on how his hand fits around the entire bottle.

“Do you want some wine?” He asks suddenly, flicking his head down to gesture towards the bottle he’s holding, “It’s a Chianti. One of my favorites I’ve tried here.”

“Oh, yes, I’d love some wine.”

Truthfully, she needs the whole bottle to make it through this night. But a glass will do.

He pours her a glass, and Y/N feels her mouth going dry at the sight of him. God, it’s so unfair how pretty he is—how pretty he still is. His hair is lightly falling across his face, his lips slightly parted, his gaze completely focused as he watches the red liquid fill half-way in the glass. His sweater is rolled up to his elbows, his skin lightly tanned from what she assumes is the Italian sun, his veins bulging out on his arm as he steadies the bottle in his hand.

“You can put your purse down anywhere, and sit wherever you’d like,” His voice interrupts her staring, and she quickly glances up, his expression causing her face to flush instantly, “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Right. Thank you,” She clears her throat, awkwardly walking towards the couch near his bed and taking a seat before she can overthink herself into leaving entirely, almost dropping her purse while trying to slide it off her shoulder.

He notices her struggling, his mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile too much as he walks over towards her. She holds her breath, his eyes seeming to captivate her.

“You okay there?”

“Perfectly fine.” She replies quickly, placing her purse beside her on the couch. Why is she so embarrassing?

“Hm,” He hums lowly, looking at her like he doesn’t believe her at all.

Besides his painfully good looks, another thing Y/N has come to notice is how he’s much more confident now. Back then, he was a little nervous, a little awkward, until he completely switched personalities and fucked her into the mattress. Now, he’s more bold, openly flirting with her without any hesitation, and she can’t say she hates it.

He’s not necessarily arrogant in the way he’s now carrying himself around her, but more so just aware. He’s more aware of the effect he has on people, and on her, specifically.

And the worst part of it is that she gets the horrible feeling that he likes seeing her unravel a little.

“Here,” He says softly, handing her a glass. She slowly reaches out, their fingers brushing against each other, and immediate warmth shoots straight up her arm. She snatches it from his grip quickly, instantly taking a large gulp, the slightly bitter taste dripping down her throat.

He watches her in slight amusement, taking a sip of his own glass. His eyes stay on her as he takes a long sip, and she matches his gaze, pulling the glass away from her mouth. He does the same, licking his lips ever so slightly, and her eyes are instantly drawn towards the action. Suddenly, she’s thinking of how soft his lips felt against her own, how he bit and sucked on her skin when he drove his cock inside her over and over again.

She shifts a little on the couch, crossing her legs and clearing her throat lightly. This is a bad time to be thinking of this. She shouldn’t be thinking about this, and she shouldn’t still be looking at how wet and plump his lips look.

“Thank you for the wine,” She lets out softly, shifting on the couch again once she forces herself to look away from his mouth.

“No problem,” He replies, his lips quirking as he takes a seat beside her on the couch, far enough that there’s an obvious amount of space between them.

The air around them feels intense. Not awkward or uncomfortable, but there’s way too much tension sitting between them that it almost feels suffocating. And Hyunjin intentionally choosing to sit all the way on the other side of the couch only adds to that feeling, because why is he sitting so far away from her? And why does she feel a little disappointed that he didn’t want to sit right beside her?

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s very good. I actually prefer reds over whites, so you made a good choice.” She replies, trying not to seem so butthurt over him sitting two seats over on the couch.

“Yeah, I also prefer reds,” He says casually, slouching back into the couch more, “I ordered this bottle at dinner and thought the flavor was really nice. I normally prefer dryer wines over sweeter wines, and this one was a good mix of both. I’m glad you like it.”

“Me too,” She smiles, fingers lightly tracing the stem of the glass, “Sweet wines give me a headache. I can only have maybe two sips before I’m cringing.”

“Yeah, that happens to me, too,” He smiles knowingly, leaning back into the couch, the wine glass resting loosely in his hands.

Y/N’s eyes flicker down again before she can stop herself. His hands, the rings on his fingers, the veins in his wrist, the long fingers wrapped around the stem of the glass—the exact same hands she had spent an embarrassing amount of time thinking about after that party four years ago.

Stop. She needs to get ahold of herself. This is second time she’s been staring at his hands, and it hasn’t even been ten minutes since she’s walked in here. She tears her gaze away before he notices, focusing on her own hands that are now tightly gripping her own glass.

“How have you been?” He asks carefully, his voice causing her to glance back over towards him. The question feels genuine, and it catches her off guard a little.

“I’ve been doing well. Super busy, but well,” She replies lightly, “I’ve just been working in the ER as a PA the past two years, so lots of chaos.”

“Oh, that’s awesome, Y/N. I’d never be able to do that,” He shakes his head slightly.

Y/N laughs nervously, “That reaction makes it sound fake.”

“No, I’m just trying to imagine you doing that everyday.”

“What, yelling in trauma bays?”

“No, saving lives.”

She feels a nervous pit forming in her stomach, suddenly feeling super shy under his gaze. She shrugs her shoulders lightly, “Yeah, I guess. It’s not as dramatic as that, though.”

“I think it is.”

His tone is so sincere that she has to look away. There’s something deeply disorienting about someone like Hyunjin sounding genuinely impressed by her, especially when a small part of her still sees him through twenty-two year old eyes—the same eyes that used to stay up until 2am watching interviews and performances and edits of him online, the same eyes that remembered what it felt like when her celebrity crush suddenly became real and fucked her upstairs in her sorority house.

The fact that he’s looking at her like she’s the impressive one feels psychologically destabilizing.

“You work a lot harder than I do,” He says quietly, and Y/N scoffs instantly.

“I absolutely do not.”

“Yes, you do,” He replies, taking another sip of his wine, “You literally have someone’s life in your hands. I just dance around and sing for a living.”

“That is not true,” She looks back at him now, turning her body to face him a little better, “You know that’s not true. Don’t get me started, Hyunjin.”

He smiles teasingly into his wine glass, and Y/N’s gaze flickers down automatically once he lowers his glass, watching him lick the faintest drop of red wine off his bottom lip. She clears her throat quickly before redirecting the conversation.

“What about you?”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow, “What about me?”

“How are you?”

The teasing fades from his expression slightly, and she finds herself instantly regretting her question. This is the part she’s been trying not to think about since she saw him again. The hiatus. The sudden disappearance from schedules that sent the entire fandom spiraling online.

She remembers reading the statement in her apartment after a long twelve hour shift, exhausted and half asleep, staring at her phone with this strange ache in her chest. Even after all of these years, some part of her still cared about him, still worried about him.

His gaze drops briefly to the wine glass in his hands before lifting back to hers. He looks tired in a way she hadn’t noticed earlier, and she fights the urge to pull him towards her.

“You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to,” She says quickly, quietly, hoping that she didn’t ruin anything.

“No, it’s okay,” He replies, his voice a little softer than before. Silence stretches for a second, and then he breathes softly through his nose, “I’m… okay. I think I just forgot how to stop for a while.”

He traces the stem on his wine glass, seemingly deep in thought. “I guess I just kept thinking if I pushed through everything, eventually I would feel normal again,” He gives a small, humorless laugh, “Turns out that’s not really how people work.”

“I’m glad you stopped, then.”

His eyes lift to hers immediately, his expression softening. And for one dangerous second, the tension between them disappears completely beneath something far more intimate.

“You were worried about me?”

Something in the way he asks that question has her heart stumbling in her chest. “I think everyone was worried about you.”

“Hm,” His gaze stays fixed on her, “But you were, too.”

Y/N can’t even deny it, she was worried about him—she’s still worried about him. And how could she not be when she hears what’s been said about him online, or how his body language comes across in interviews, or how tired he looks performing?

She tries to shrug it off lightly, “Well, you disappearing from the internet was unsettling, you know.”

He breaks out into another smile, laughing softly. It’s warm, it’s beautiful, and it has her doing the same as she watches him in a daze.

Her crush on him never really stood a chance. And right now, she doesn’t think it ever fully went away.

“Are you still in New York?”

His next question catches her off guard for a second, and she clears her throat lightly, “Yeah, I am. I decided to stay once I graduated.”

“Are you still living with Kat?”

She smiles at the mention of Kat’s name, “Surprisingly, no. We just got our own places last year. We live in the same apartment complex, though, so I haven’t really escaped her fully.”

“I don’t think you ever could,” Hyunjin laughs lightly, and Y/N’s really glad to see his smile again.

“I’m stuck with her forever, it seems.”

“Yeah. That’s how I feel about the members,” He runs a hand through his hair, shifting on the couch, “Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t be able to escape them. I’d move to the other side of the world and they’d be knocking on my front door the next day.”

“They love you.” She laughs, taking another sip of his wine.

His eyes soften, “Yeah, I know.”

It’s quiet again. He’s still looking at her, the smile slowly fading from his lips. His eyes narrow in on her, piercing into her soul, her body, her everything. She shifts slightly on the couch, her skin hot from his gaze, and suddenly, the space between them feels strangely noticeable now. Especially because Hyunjin hasn’t moved any closer, not once.

“You can sit closer if you want.”

Hyunjin goes still for half a second. His eyes widen just slightly before he changes his expression completely. There’s something deeply pleased in his expression now, the same dark glint she had seen in her dreams for months after he left her four years ago. He looks wholly satisfied, like he’d just been waiting for her to crack first.

“Are you sure?” He asks lowly, his voice dripping down her body like honey. Sweet, sticky, thick.

She nods once before she loses her sanity. He studies her for another second before he leans down to place his wine glass against the table sitting in front of them. He’s still watching her, still daring her to stop him or look away first, but she doesn’t.

He moves towards her slowly, carefully, until his thigh is resting right beside hers. He’s close enough now that warmth radiates off him immediately, close enough that his knee brushes hers lightly when he settles back. The contact shoots heat up her entire body. Neither of them acknowledge it, which somehow makes it infinitely more intimate.

She finds herself shifting closer to him automatically. Suddenly, she’s entirely consumed of everything about him—his smell, the tiny mole sitting underneath his eye, the slight warmth of his breath fanning against her lips. It’s distracting, consuming, and she feels herself falling into him once again.

“Why are you so tense?” He whispers lowly.

She glances down, noticing that her legs were tightly clenched together and her hand was gripping the stem of her wine glass so tight her knuckles were almost completely white. Instantly, embarrassingly, she relaxes, and his gaze is drawn towards her thighs as she spreads them apart just slightly.

“I’m not tense.”

He glances back at her face, raising an eyebrow, “You are. You’re thinking too much.”

She is, and she hates how he notices that.

He grabs ahold of her wine glass gently, and she lets him, her eyes following the movement as he shifts down to place it beside hers on the table. She swallows thickly, and her mind is instantly reminded of how similar this all feels—about how he did the exact same thing in her dorm room four years ago right before he kissed her.

She wonders for a second if he’s thinking about it, too.

He straightens up, but he’s a lot closer now, close enough that if she were to tilt her head up just slightly, she’d brush her lips against his. She hates that she wants that.

“What are you thinking about, Y/N?”

She’s thinking about how dangerous this feels. She’s thinking about the difference between them now. She’s thinking about cameras and fans and headlines and the fact that she used to have posters of him on her wall. And worst of all, she’s thinking that despite everything, she wants so badly to kiss him, anyway.

Hyunjin shifts closer without seeming to realize it. Or maybe he realizes it completely.

“You keep looking at my mouth.”

Her eyes shoot up towards his own, slightly embarrassed, yet she doesn’t pull back, “You’re looking at mine, too.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

The corner of his mouth lifts slowly, “Because I’ve been thinking about kissing you ever since I opened my door for you.”

Every coherent thought Y/N thought she had instantly disappears. Her breath catches in her throat, and he smirks lightly once he notices. His own breathing looks uneven now, his breath brushing against her mouth, begging for her to claim him.

Good. At least she knows she’s not suffering alone.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that.” He says quietly, yet he’s still looking at her lips. She licks them slowly, and his gaze darkens.

“No?” She breathes out.

“No.” He replies just as breathlessly, his hand twitching, fingers lightly brushing against the side of her thigh.

“Why not?”

“Because now I’m just thinking about it even more,” He laughs, the sound soft and entirely unamused, his fingers inching a little closer, “And if you keep looking at me like that, I might not be able to hold myself back much longer.”

Neither of them moves. Neither of them looks away. The distance between them feels completely impossible, and Y/N’s grabbing ahold of his wrist, bringing his hand to rest fully on her thigh without even thinking about it.

He grips her thigh harder, moving his hand higher as he leans his body more into her. For a second, Y/N thinks he’s going to finally kiss her. But then he shakes his head once, like he’s trying to regain control, trying and failing.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me all night.”

Her heart pounds harder, her hand still lying on top of his, “What am I doing?”

His gaze drifts across her face, slow, painfully slow, painfully antagonizing. “Looking so beautiful,” He mumbles, his hand dipping in-between her thighs, the other coming up to rest gently against her neck, “Testing me. Teasing me. Ruining me.”

A quiet moan escapes her mouth at his confession, and his expression shifts when he hears it. The last thread of restraint snaps in half, and he’s pulling her closer to him by her neck, his lips brushing over hers hesitantly.

“If I kiss you, I don’t want it to be because I assumed,” He admits quietly. His eyes stay locked on hers, patient, waiting, giving her every opportunity to step away.

She doesn’t. Not even a little.

“Hyunjin,” She says his name breathlessly, desperately.

“Tell me what you want.”

A rush of heat floods straight between her legs. It’s embarrassing how easily he affects her, and her body is reacting to him the exact same way it did years ago. She can only sit here being looked at like that for so long before something in her snaps, and she’s torn between an internal battle of giving in or stopping it before it can turn into anything messy.

Y/N wants him. She still wants him. Maybe she’s always wanted him.

And suddenly, she’s moving before she thinks about that fact too hard.

Her hands slides into the front of his sweater, fingers curling lightly in the soft fabric near his chest before pulling him towards her. Her pulse pounds violently as she closes the distance between them, and then she kisses him. It’s soft at first, almost tentative. Yet, the second their mouths touch, something in both of them gives out completely.

Hyunjin makes the quietest broken sound against her lips and kisses her back with an unfound urgency. His grip on her neck tightens, his other hand wanders aimlessly all around her thighs and up towards her waist. Her hands come up to rest on his shoulders in attempt to steady herself because her entire body feels dizzy all of a sudden.

He still kisses the same. It’s slow enough to feel intentional, but deep enough to make her feel insane, and she melts into it, just as she did last time.

A soft sound escapes her mouth before she can stop it, and Hyunjin reacts to it immediately, pulling her closer, kissing her even harder. His mouth moves against her desperately, his hand wandering towards her back and pushing her towards him like he needs her even closer, even though she’s already halfway in his lap.

“Fuck,” He whispers shakily against her mouth, the sound sending a jolt of electricity straight to her pussy, “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this.”

His mouth is back on hers before she can comprehend what he said, his tongue prodding and poking inside her mouth. He swallows another moan, and she shifts her body to sit on his lap completely, her hands trailing up towards the back of his head, entangling her fingers in his long hair.

She didn’t realize how much she missed this feeling—the warmth, the intensity, the way he kissed her like he meant it. Y/N had been with only three other guys after Hyunjin, and none of them had kissed her like this, had touched her like this, had made her feel like this. Maybe it’s because it’s Hyunjin, or maybe it’s because of something else entirely. But whatever the reason, she can’t get enough of it.

He grunts into her mouth once she rocks her hips against him ever so lightly. He’s hard, and she smiles into his mouth, loving the fact that he seems to be suffering, too.

She wants more. She needs more.

She rocks into him again more forcefully this time, and he throws his head back, a light string of spit following the movement as their lips break apart. She does it again, over and over until he’s moaning underneath her, his hands guiding her movements on his dick. Even through his pants she can feel how hard he is, and her mouth waters at what he’s hiding underneath.

“Fuck,” He curses again, tilting his head back down towards her, his eyes instantly drawn to where her breasts are peaking out under her top. He’s reaching out instantly, squeezing them in his hands, causing her back to arch more into him, “Fuck.”

She’s kissing him again, her tongue sliding against his so desperately, and she moans loudly once he pinches her nipple through her shirt. “Hyunjin,” She says his name in between kisses, and he grunts into her, thrusting his hips up to meet the movements of her own.

A zap of pleasure shoots up her core once he rocks right against her clit. She whimpers loudly, pulling at the hair on the back of his head, kissing him harder. He lets out a pleased hum, repeating the same movement over and over again, causing her head to spin.

Fuck, he feels so good. He feels so big and thick and hard against her that it doesn’t even feel real.

He pulls back slightly, a soft groan falling off his lips, “Fuck, you’re killing me.”

Then he’s kissing her again before she can even reply, before she can even tell him that he makes her feel the exact same way.

His hand sneaks around her back and underneath her top, her knees digging into the couch as she practically bounces on his dick. He reaches a hand between them, lightly toying with the button on her jeans, the other moving around to graze against the bottom of her bare breast inside her top.

Something inside her snaps, and she freezes. One second she’s wrapped up into the feeling of being wanted so intensely that it makes her dizzy, and the next second her brain catches up with her.

This is Hyunjin. Someone whose life belongs, at least partially, to millions of strangers. And she just can’t stop thinking about that.

What exactly is this? Why did he suddenly reach out after years of silence? Why now?

Was it because he missed her? Because he was lonely? Because she was simply convenient? Maybe he wanted to meet up with her because they had history, so it’s easier to ease into it.

The thought hurts more than she’d like to admit. Back then, she would have accepted almost anything from him. And as much as she wants him, she doesn’t know if she can survive being someone’s temporary distraction—being his temporary distraction. Not when she spent months trying to get over him the first time.

“Hyunjin,” She says weakly, and he breaks the kiss, pulling away slowly.

His expression softens immediately at the sound of his name in her mouth. “What?” He asks quietly, voice slightly raspy.

She doesn’t even know what she was going to say.

Slow down? Stop looking at me like that? Please kiss me again before I lose my mind?

She should tell him what she’s really thinking. That she’s scared to take this further just to have another repeat of four years ago. That she doesn’t know if she can handle the aftermath of fucking him again, of growing attached to someone so unreachable. That she’s scared that even if he wants more than just to sleep with her again, she doesn’t know if she’s ready for everything that comes with that.

But instead, she just kisses him again. He makes a low sound against her mouth that nearly destroys her on the spot. And then suddenly, his hands are everywhere again—her waist, her back, one sliding into her hair as he kisses her back with immediate desperation.

He pulls back after awhile, tugging her bottom lip with his teeth, and she whines softly as she slowly opens her eyes, which is a bad decision. Because now, she has to look at him, and he looks completely gone. His hair is falling into his eyes, his lips are so pink and swollen, his chest is rising unevenly beneath her hands.

He’s so pretty that it hurts.

“Spend the day with me tomorrow.”

The words catch her completely off guard, and she feels her body tense up ever so slightly. “What?”

“Tomorrow,” He repeats himself, resting his hands on her thighs, rubbing them softly, “Come somewhere with me tomorrow.”

“Where?” She asks, a nervous feeling bubbling in her stomach.

“The beach. It’s supposed to be nice tomorrow. I was thinking we could spend the day there, and then come back here for dinner later. I can order us room service, if you want.”

Y/N blinks, imagining all the reasons that’s a bad idea. A full day. Sunshine. Conversation. No distractions. No hiding behind flirting. It’s just them, and that seems much scarier than sitting in his hotel room.

Hyunjin notices the hesitation immediately, a sheepish expression on his face as he glances at her, “You don’t have to say yes. I’m sure you have other plans already. I don't want to ruin your trip.”

Y/N studies him for a moment. He looks so nervous, pretending not to care while obviously caring a lot. And what seems to stick with her the most is the fact that he isn’t asking for another night with her, but he’s asking to spend an entire day with her. That answers a question she hadn’t known how to ask, and her expression eases instantly.

“The beach?” She asks again.

“Yeah,” A hopeful smile falls on his face, his hand still rubbing against her thighs, “I know someone who can help us get there without being bothered by anyone. It’s a private beach. We won’t be near anyone.”

“Okay.” She finds herself smiling, nodding her head slightly as she places her hands on top of his on her thigh.

The relief on his face is immediate, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’d love to go with you. It’ll be fun.”

The smile that appears on his face afterwards is so bright and genuine that it steals her breath for a second. And right now, that’s what convinces her that maybe she made the right choice.

[hanjinology]

CATCH ME, SPIDEY! : featuring han jisung

— spiderman!han jisung x black cat!fem reader in which, new threats rise across seoul as spider man tries to keep the city safe, but his attention is captured by a certain cat burglar with secrets of her own. as their paths intertwine, jisung and y/n discover that even heroes and thieves can share something unexpectedly real.

content warning: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, mention of blood and wound, frenemies to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn, soft love making, pinv, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasm, intense make out session, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

a/n: As you all guys know, this very prompt is from @skzcodered <333 It took me awhile to finished it ack- I almost hit the wall but I DID IT!!!! SPIDERHAN IS HERE AND I HOPE SHE LOVES THIS ONE, and of course I hope you guys enjoy reading this. Let me know your thoughts <333

word count: 7.6k words

The night air in Seoul thrummed with the distant pulse of neon lights and endless traffic far below. You balanced gracefully on the edge of the glittering corporate tower, the cool breeze tugging at the sleek black suit that hugged every curve of your body like a liquid shadow. Silver claw accents gleamed under the moonlight as you tucked the stolen diamond necklace safely against your chest, still warm from the penthouse safe you'd cracked open just minutes ago.

Another flawless score for Black Cat.

You were about to disappear into the night when a familiar voice cut through the silence, laced with that signature playful arrogance.

"Fancy seeing you here, Kitty."

You didn't even flinch.

From above, Spider-Man dropped down in a smooth arc, landing lightly on the ledge just a few feet away. His red-and-black suit clung to his lean, athletic frame, the large white spider emblem bold across his chest. The white lenses of his mask narrowed in mock disapproval, but you could practically hear the grin behind them.

"That necklace doesn't exactly match your usual aesthetic," he teased, tilting his head. "Hand it over."

You turned slowly to face him, a smirk curling on your lips beneath your own mask. The city lights painted both of you in shifting hues of blue and pink as you straightened up, rolling your shoulders with feline grace.

"And here I thought you'd finally learned to mind your own business, Spidey," you purred, voice smooth and teasing. "Didn't your mother ever teach you it's rude to crash a girl's private party?"

He chuckled, the sound low and warm even through the mask. "Only when the girl in question keeps stealing things that don't belong to her." He took one graceful step closer, head cocked. "C'mon, Black Cat. Don't make me chase you again. You know how much I enjoy it."

The tension between you crackled like electricity in the night air, familiar, dangerous, and undeniably thrilling.

You let out a soft, mischievous giggle that danced through the night air, the sound light and taunting. You took a few graceful steps backward until the heels of your boots were right at the very edge of the rooftop. The vast city sprawled endlessly behind you, a glittering sea of ​​lights and concrete far below.

With your back to the dizzying drop, you tilted your head, eyes gleaming with playful challenge beneath your mask.

"Catch me, Spidey!" you purred, voice dripping with sweetness.

Then, without hesitation, you let yourself fall.

You tipped backwards off the ledge, arms spread like wings as gravity claimed you. The wind rushed violently past your ears, whipping your hair as you plummeted through the cool night air. For a split second, the world became a thrilling blur of neon and stars.

A heartbeat later, you heard his familiar shout, half exasperated, half exhilarated.

"Seriously!? Again!?"

The wind roared past you as you dropped through the open air. Seconds later, you heard Spider-Man's familiar shout as he dove after you like a crimson bullet.

"Got you-!"

He reached out with both arms, ready to catch you against his chest. At the very last moment, you twisted your body with feline grace, spinning mid-air like a black shadow. His fingers barely brushed your suit before you slipped through his grasp.

You fired your grappling claw towards the opposite building, swinging yourself smoothly onto an open balcony on a lower floor. The landing was silent and perfect.

Spider-Man was left soaring past you, still carried by his momentum through the night sky. He quickly shot a web and swung back around, landing on the railing of the balcony you were standing on.

You turned to face him, mask hiding your smirk. The city lights painted your figure in shades of violet and silver as you gave him the sweetest, most innocent smile.

"Till next time, Spider-Man," you purred softly, voice full of playful promise.

Before he could lunge forward, you blew him a teasing kiss, turned on your heel, and disappeared into the dark hallway of the building like smoke, silent, graceful, and completely untouchable. Just like the black cat you were.

Spider-Man stood frozen on the railing for a moment, staring at the empty space where you had just been. He let out a long, amused sigh and shook his head, a reluctant laugh escaping him.

He was about to swing away when something small and glossy on the floor caught his attention.

A tube of red lipstick.

He raised an eyebrow beneath his mask, a faint, amused smile forming on his lips as he crouched down and picked it up. The lipstick was elegant, sleek black casing with a silver accent. He turned it over in his fingers, still slightly warm.

A soft chuckle escaped him. "Now, that's interesting." he murmured, amused. "I shall hold this thing for you for now, Kitty."

He knew you well enough to understand this wasn't intentional. You were always precise, always in control. The fact that your lipstick had fallen without you realizing it made the discovery feel strangely intimate.

He popped the cap open for a moment, staring at the bold red shade before closing it again. With a small smirk, he tucked the lipstick safely into a hidden pocket on his suit.

He shot a web towards the next building and launched himself back into the night sky, the city lights blurring around him. Even as he swung through Seoul, the faint smile never left his face.

Meanwhile, several buildings away, you moved silently across rooftops, completely unaware that you had left a small trace of yourself behind.

--

"Well, this is new," Jisung drawled, leaning back in his chair with a lazy grin. "Never thought the ever-so-punctual Y/N could be late to class too."

You rolled your eyes and let out a heavy sigh the moment you heard his voice. Of all days, he just had to be your seatmate today. It wasn't that you hated him, really. Far from it-but your morning had already been a disaster, and the last thing you needed was his teasing.

"Don't start," you muttered, dropping into the chair beside him with more force than necessary. You shoved your bag under the desk and ran a hand through your slightly messy hair, still feeling irritated.

Jisung tilted his head, studying your face with open curiosity. His playful smile didn't fade even a little.

"Rough morning?" he asked, voice softer this time, though the teasing glint in his eyes remained.

"Worst," you replied flatly, exhaling through your nose as you slumped forward, resting your chin against your palm on the desk.

Jisung turned in his seat to face you properly, his usual playful expression softening a little.

"I could tell," he said. "You barely wore any makeup today. Woke up late?"

You shook your head.

"I spent the entire morning looking for my favorite lipstick," you grumbled. "The red one I always wear. I swear I left it on my desk last night but I couldn't find it anywhere. Had to leave the house bare-faced because of it."

"Oh, yikes," Jisung said, trying his best to sound genuinely sympathetic. "That sucks. You really like that one, right?"

"Yeah," you sighed, clearly still annoyed. "Now I feel weirdly naked without it."

Jisung leaned his cheek against his hand, watching you with a small, comforting smile

"Well, you still look pretty even without it," he said casually, then quickly added with a teasing grin, "-but I get it. Girl things are important."

You let out a small huff, somewhere between annoyed and amused, and gently bumped his arm with your elbow.

"Shut up."

Just as you were about to reply, the classroom door opened and Professor Kim walked in, looking slightly hurried.

"Morning, class. Let's jump right in," he said, setting his laptop on the desk. "We're starting a major project today. It will count for 35% of your final grade."

He projected the assignment on the screen. The title read: "Innovative Solutions in Environmental Science."

"You'll be working in pairs. The task is to choose a real-world environmental problem, conduct research, design a scientific solution or prototype, and present your findings with supporting data. This includes literature review, methodology, and experimental design."

A wave of murmurs and a few groans filled the room. Professor Kim smiled . "And I've already assigned the pairs randomly."

He began reading from his list. When he reached your name, your stomach dropped slightly.

"Y/N..." he paused, "and Han Jisung."

You slowly turned your head towards Jisung. He was already looking at you with a bright, cheeky grin, clearly entertained by his luck.

"No way," he whispered, leaning closer. You let out a long, tired sigh and dropped your forehead onto the desk.

"How unlucky." you mumbled.

Jisung chuckled softly, nudging your arm playfully.

"Hey, don't sound so heartbroken. I'm actually really good at science, you know," he teased. "Plus, now I have to help you find that missing lipstick. Can't have my project partner in a bad mood the whole time."

You turned your head on the desk to glare at him with one eye. He just smiled wider, looking far too happy about this arrangement.

"Partners?" he asked, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand for a second before reluctantly giving him a weak high-five.

"...Partners," you groaned.

The weekend arrived wrapped in velvet darkness.You moved like liquid shadow across the rooftops of Seoul's most exclusive district. The cool night wind pressed against your sleek black suit as you slipped in and out of the heavily guarded mansion. Minutes later, the 637-carat diamond necklace rested heavily against your chest, its weight warm and satisfying.You were perched on the edge of a tall glass building when his voice rang out behind you, smooth and teasing.

"Stealing from corrupt politicians now, Kitty? That's bold, even for you."

You turned with a smirk, silver claws glinting under the moonlight. Spider-Man stood on the adjacent rooftop, his red-and-black suit glowing against the neon cityscape, the white spider emblem bold across his chest.

You let out a soft, playful laugh. "What can I say? I have excellent taste," you purred, tilting your head. "Besides, this necklace would look much better decorating my neck than his greasy one. Don't you agree, Spidey?"

He took a graceful step closer, head tilted in amusement.

"I'd say it would look even better in a museum. Or better yet..." His mask lenses narrowed playfully, "in my hand after I catch you."

You grinned beneath your mask and took a few steps back, muscles coiled like a spring.

"Then come and get it," you challenged sweetly. Without another word, you spun and leapt off the building. The chase began. You soared through the night, landing lightly on the next rooftop before immediately jumping again. Spider-Man was right behind you, swinging gracefully from building to building with powerful webs.

"You're getting slower, Kitty!" he called out mid-swing, voice full of teasing affection. "Or maybe you just like it when I chase you?"

You landed on a narrow glass ledge and shot him a sultry look over your shoulder. "Maybe I do," you replied flirtatiously, voice carrying through the wind. "It's cute watching you try so hard to keep up with me."

He laughed—bright and warm—as he swung closer. "Cute? I'll show you cute when I finally catch you and pin you against a wall."

Your laughter rang out like bells as you leapt to the next building, heart racing with thrill. You glanced back at him, eyes sparkling with challenge.

"Promises, promises, Spider-Boy. You've been saying that for months, yet here I am... still one step ahead."

The two of you danced across the Seoul skyline, a dangerous, flirtatious game of cat and spider. Every jump, every swing, every teasing word crackled with electricity between you. But in the middle of a particularly daring leap to a lower rooftop, you miscalculated.

Your hand slipped on the wet concrete edge. A sharp cry escaped your lips as pain tore through your right palm. You landed hard, rolling across the rooftop, warm blood instantly soaking through your glove.You clutched your injured hand to your chest, teeth gritted against the burning pain.

Spider-Man landed a few meters away, concern flashing in his lenses. "Kitty—?!"

Before he could reach you, you forced yourself up and fired your grappling claw, swinging away into the darkness once more. You disappeared between two buildings like a shadow swallowed by night. Even wounded, you still escaped.

--

The image of you—Black Cat— clutching your bleeding hand refused to leave Jisung's mind. All week long, he kept replaying that moment, the sharp cry you tried to hide, the way you still forced yourself to keep running despite the injury. Every night he swung through the city, hoping to catch even a glimpse of you, just to make sure you were okay. But you hadn't appeared again.

Even now, as he stood in front of his closet on Saturday afternoon, Jisung was still distracted.

"Shit..." he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. He had spent the entire week half-present. During lectures, during practice, even while hanging out with the guys, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The flirty, untouchable Black Cat who always slipped through his fingers. The same girl who got hurt because he had been chasing her too aggressively.

A heavy sigh left his lips as he finally grabbed a simple black hoodie and threw it on. It was only when his phone buzzed with a new message that reality hit him like a truck.

You: Hey, are you still coming over today? It's already 2:30 pm.

Jisung blinked at the screen, eyes widening in panic.

"Fuck. It's already Saturday?" He had completely lost track of time. The project meeting with you had completely slipped his mind. He quickly typed back.

Jisung: Shit sorry!! I'm on my way right now. Give me 15 minutes.

Grabbing his bag and notebook, Jisung rushed out of the dorm, still mentally distracted. Even as he walked toward your apartment, his thoughts kept circling back to Black Cat.

Is her hand okay? Did she patch it up properly? Why the hell do I even care this much...?

He shook his head, trying to push the thoughts away as he finally reached your building. He took a deep breath before pressing the doorbell to your unit.When you opened the door, Jisung offered an apologetic smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Hey... sorry I'm late. I kind of... lost track of time."

You raised an eyebrow, noticing how slightly disheveled he looked. He seemed more distracted than usual.

Jisung stepped inside your apartment, still trying to shake off the fog in his head. He was about to apologize again for being late when his eyes casually swept over you, and then froze. Your right hand was wrapped in a medical cast. His eyebrows furrowed deeply, concern flashing across his face. The playful, distracted expression he wore just seconds ago completely vanished.

"What happened to your hand?" he asked, voice suddenly serious. He took a small step closer, eyes locked on the white cast. "That looks pretty bad... Did you get into an accident?"

You shrugged, trying to play it off casually. "It's nothing serious. I just slipped and fell the other night. Landed on it wrong."

But Jisung wasn't convinced. His gaze lingered on the cast a second longer, and suddenly, his mind violently flashed back to that night.

Black Cat.

The way she had cried out in pain mid-jump. The way she clutched her right hand to her chest before disappearing into the shadows. The blood he had seen glistening under the moonlight.

His stomach twisted.

No... It can't be.

That's when Jisung remembered something. He dropped his bag on the floor beside the couch and crouched down to rummage through it.

"Is this yours?" he asked, pulling out a familiar sleek black tube with silver accents and held it up.

Your eyes widened the second you saw it. Without thinking, you lunged forward and snatched the lipstick out of his hand in a panic, clutching it tightly against your chest.

"Where did you get this?!" you asked sharply, voice a little too high.

Jisung blinked at your sudden reaction, slightly taken aback. "I found it on the floor in the hallway outside the lecture hall last week,"

You stared at him, heart hammering wildly in your chest. Your fingers tightened around the lipstick like it was a lifeline. For a split second, a wave of paranoia washed over you. Did he know? Could he possibly suspect anything?

Jisung tilted his head, watching your reaction with curious eyes. He noticed how tense you suddenly became, how tightly you were gripping the lipstick.

And then... the pieces started clicking together in his mind. The right hand injury, exactly where Black Cat had hurt herself that night. The same red lipstick he had picked up after she disappeared. The way you just panicked the moment he showed it to you.

No way...

He tried to push the thought away, but it kept growing louder. Jisung felt his heartbeat pick up. "You okay?" Jisung asked, forcing his voice to stay light even though his mind was spiraling. "You look really pale all of a sudden."

You quickly slipped the lipstick into your pocket and tried to act normal. "Yeah... I'm fine. Just surprised you found it. Thanks."

Jisung smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes this time. His gaze lingered on your cast once more.

"Then I guess I'm glad I kept it for you."

-- 

The next few weeks blurred into a tense routine. On weekdays, you and Jisung met at the library to finish the remaining sections of their research paper, the deadline now looming just a month away. The quiet corner they had once claimed felt smaller each time, the air thicker with everything unsaid.

Conversations stayed painfully polite—short exchanges about citations, methodology, and formatting. Every sentence was measured. Every glance carefully guarded. You both walked on eggshells, hyper-aware that a single slip, a careless word, or an unguarded expression could unravel the fragile secrets you'd both been hiding for so long.

Yet the nights told a different story.

Jisung's suspicions had grown into a storm he could no longer ignore. Every weekend, after parting ways with Black Cat beneath the city lights, he would see you the next morning bearing fresh marks of the battles they had fought together.

A vicious slash across Black Cat's cheek became a thin band-aid on your face by Monday morning. A deliberate trip in a narrow alley—one he had staged to test his theory—left you limping into the library the following day, your steps stiff and uneven. Each minor injury he inflicted on Black Cat, even though guilt twisted in his chest every time, appeared on your body like an undeniable signature.

He hated himself for it. But the evidence kept piling up, too consistent to be coincidence. The way you winced when you reached for a book. The fresh bruise on your wrist that matched the one he'd left on Black Cat's. The way your eyes would flicker with quiet panic whenever his gaze lingered too long on your injuries.

The more he tested the connection, the more certain he became.

Jisung made up his mind. Tonight, everything would end, one way or another. He knew about the ruby. He had overheard you muttering about it during one of your late-night rooftop conversations as Black Cat. The legendary Crimson Heart, a blood-red gem recently "donated" by a reclusive billionaire to the City Museum of Antiquities. The official story was polished and perfect. You both knew better. The ruby was stolen, another glittering piece of corruption hidden behind glass and security lasers.

He didn't plan to stop the heist. He planned to confront you in the middle of it. As Spiderman, he swung through the rain-slicked streets, heart pounding harder than it had in months. The cool night air did nothing to calm the storm inside him. Part of him still desperately hoped he was wrong. That the girl who sat beside him during classes, the one who never backed down when it comes to bickering with him wasn't the same person who danced across rooftops with him as Black Cat. That the consequences hadn't bound their fates together in such a cruel, intimate way. But deep down, he already knew.

"I knew you'd be here."

Your head snapped toward the voice, heart jolting in your chest. There he stood—Spiderman—perched at the far edge of the opposite rooftop, silhouetted against the glittering city skyline. The red and blue of his suit caught the moonlight, making him look almost unreal.

"Spidey," you mused, a playful lilt curving your lips beneath the mask. You tilted your head, letting the teasing tone drip like honey. "You're always where I am. At this rate, I might start thinking you've already fallen for me."

A low chuckle rumbled from Spiderman's chest, the sound surprisingly soft against the steady patter of rain. With a graceful flick of his wrist, he swung forward, landing just a few steps closer on the same rooftop.

Your body tensed instantly, every instinct screaming at you to stay alert.

"Hm?" He tilted his head, voice laced with something unreadable. "Why are you stepping away from me?" He took another slow step forward, rain sliding down the sleek surface of his suit like liquid shadows. "Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of me."

Your stomach dropped. You forced out a soft, disbelieving laugh, trying to cling to your usual playful confidence. "Me? Afraid of you?" You took another careful step back, the edge of the rooftop now much closer than you liked. "Oh, Spidey..."

But every time he moved forward, you mirrored him with a step back. Your heart hammered wildly against your ribs, loud enough that you wondered if he could hear it through the rain. A nervous gulp betrayed you as your fingers twitched, ready to summon your claws at any moment.

"Y/N."

Your breath hitched sharply, the sound catching in your throat like a blade. The world seemed to tilt for a second. He had said your name with quiet certainty, as if it belonged on his tongue.

He knows. He fucking knows who you are. Ice-cold panic flooded your veins. How? When? Who the hell was he beneath that mask?

You forced a breathless, disbelieving laugh, taking another instinctive step back. "Who are you calling Y/N?" Your voice came out sharper than intended, laced with defensive edge. "You've got the wrong person, Spiderman."

"I wouldn't say a name if I wasn't confident about who you are. I know you're exactly who I think you are."

You pressed your lips together, your grip tightening around the jewel hidden behind your back. A nervous laugh almost escaped you, but you swallowed it down.

"I think all this chasing has been giving you the wrong idea," you said, shaking your head lightly. "I'm sorry, but I think we should end this here. This—"

The rest of your sentence got stuck in your throat.

A rustling sound came from him. At first, you thought he was simply shifting his weight, but then your eyes caught the movement of his hands rising toward his mask. Your brows furrowed in confusion. For a second, you could only stare as his fingers hooked beneath the fabric.

Wait. What was he doing?

Your heart skipped a beat. Slowly, he pulled the mask away from his face. The moment the fabric fell, your entire body went still.

Brown eyes met yours. Warm, familiar brown eyes. Your breath caught as your mind scrambled to make sense of what you were seeing. The face in front of you was one you knew. One you had seen countless times before. Without his usual glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, he looked different enough to throw you off for a second, but not different enough to hide who he was.

Han Jisung.

The name echoed in your head as you stared at him, unable to look away. Out of everyone, every single person, you could have expected to find beneath that mask, Han Jisung had never once crossed your mind.

"Jisung..." you breathed, the name slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Of course he heard. He was Spiderman, after all.

The moment his eyes met yours, panic surged through your chest. "I'm sorry—I need to go."

You didn't give him a chance to respond. Before he could say anything, you turned and leaped away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible. The wind rushed past your ears, but it did little to quiet the frantic thoughts racing through your head.

Han Jisung was Spiderman.

No matter how many times you repeated it to yourself, it still didn't feel real. Your heart wouldn't stop pounding, a mixture of shock and nervousness making it difficult to think straight. How were you supposed to face him now? How were you supposed to sit beside from him, talk to him, and pretend everything was normal after learning something like this?

The more you thought about it, the more your head spun.

The person you had spent months pining after, wondering about, chasing after without even realizing it, turned out to be someone who had been right beside you the entire time. Someone you laughed with, talked to, and saw almost every day.

You landed on a quiet rooftop far away from the city's glowing center and pulled your mask off, breathing hard. Your hands were trembling. It should have made things easier. Instead, it only made everything more complicated.

You couldn't wrap your head around it. Every conversation you'd ever had with him suddenly felt different, taking on a meaning you hadn't noticed before. Moments you once brushed off kept replaying in your mind, making you wonder how you had missed something so obvious.

That revelation alone was enough to keep you awake for nights, staring at your ceiling while the same thought circled endlessly through your mind.

The following weeks became a careful game of avoidance. Whenever Jisung tried to approach you after class, you'd suddenly remember something you forgot and rush off in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, the two of you had worked so efficiently that you finished most of the project ahead of schedule. There was no real reason for the two of you to meet anymore. That made avoiding him easier.

But Jisung was nothing if not persistent. He was determined. The questions in his head had grown too loud to ignore. He needed to hear the truth from your mouth. He needed to know if the girl he sat next to every week, the one who rolled her eyes at his jokes and snatched her lipstick in panic, was really the same person who made his heart race every night on the rooftops.

So on Thursday evening, without warning, he stood in front of your dorm room. He took a deep breath and knocked.

You were lounging on the couch in oversized clothes, hair messy, scrolling through your phone when the knock came. Thinking it was your roommate's boyfriend (who always came over unannounced), you didn't even bother checking.

"Coming!" you called out lazily.

You opened the door without a second thought. And froze.

Jisung stood there, hands in his hoodie pocket, looking unusually serious. His eyes met yours with an intensity that made your stomach drop.

Without thinking, you moved to slam the door shut. But Jisung was faster. His arm shot out with surprising speed and strength, his palm slapping against the door just before it could close. The impact made the wood rattle. You pushed harder, but it barely budged, his arm was unyielding, muscles tense under his sleeve.

"Wait—" His voice was firm, but not aggressive. "Don't close the door. Please."

You stared at him, breathing heavily painfully aware of how close you two are now, only inches away from yours. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the mixture of confusion, determination, and something softer.

"I'm not leaving until we talk," he said quietly, still holding the door open with surprising ease. "You've been avoiding me all week. Running away every time I try to get close to you. Just like how she always run away from me."

You chewed on your  lower lip. Your eyebrows furrowing, whispering to yourself and praying to all the Gods and Goddesses you know that he should not asked that question.

"Is it you, Y/n? You're Black Cat, aren't you?"

With a sharp, frustrated exhale, you grabbed the front of his hoodie with your uninjured hand and yanked him inside the dorm before anyone could see him. Jisung stumbled slightly but didn't resist as you pulled him straight through the living room and into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you with a firm click.

The moment the door closed, you let go of him and took a step back, breathing heavily. The cast on your right hand suddenly felt like a glaring beacon between you two.

"What do you even want from me?" you snapped, voice sharper than you intended. "If you're looking for all the jewels I've stolen, none of them are here. I don't keep that stuff. I don't know what else you want me to say."

You took a shaky breath, eyes burning with a volatile mix of defiance and vulnerability as you glared at him.

"Sure, I'm Black Cat. And what about it?" Your voice cracked slightly. "Are you here to arrest me?"

Jisung stood near the center of your room, looking strangely out of place among your things. His eyes slowly drifted across your space. The neatly organized desk, the black hoodie hanging on the back of your chair, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air, before finally settling back on you.

He didn't speak right away.

The silence stretched between you, heavy and electric. You could see the storm of emotions behind his eyes. Shock, confusion, something else.

"I'm not here to arrest you," he said finally, his voice low and steady. "I'm not here as Spiderman right now."

He took one careful step closer, then stopped when he saw you tense up. "I just..." He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "I've spent the last week losing my mind trying to connect the dots. The injury on your hand, the lipstick, the way you move, the way you talk when we're on the rooftops... And then I realized it was you. The girl who sits next to me in class. The girl who rolls her eyes at my stupid jokes but still smiles when she thinks I'm not looking." Jisung's voice softened, almost pained.

"So yeah... I know you're Black Cat. But I'm not here to take you in or demand answers about what you've stolen." He looked straight into your eyes, vulnerable in a way you'd never seen from him before, not as Jisung, and certainly not as Spiderman.

"I'm here because I can't stop thinking about you. The real you. Both versions of you."

He swallowed hard, voice dropping to a near whisper. "So tell me... was any of it real? The flirting? The tension? Or was I just some game to you?" The air in your room felt impossibly thick as you stood there, back pressed against the door, heart racing wildly in your chest.

"Don't tell me you've seriously fallen for my other persona?" you said, forcing your voice to stay firm even as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest. "You must be losing your head if that's the case."

You tried to sound cold. Detached. You needed him to believe that this—whatever this was—could never work. You were a thief who lived in the shadows. He was a hero who protected the light. Nothing good ever came from crossing that line. You knew that better than anyone.

But Jisung didn't back away. Instead, he took a slow step closer, until your faces were only inches apart. His hand rose, pressing against the door beside your head, effectively caging you in without touching you. His warm breath brushed against your lips as he spoke.

"And if I do?" he breathed, the question hanging heavy between you. His eyes, dark, intense, and unwavering, searched yours desperately, looking for even the smallest crack in your armor. The playful, easygoing Jisung you knew from class was gone. In his place was someone raw, honest, and completely unguarded.

"If I told you I've fallen for both versions of you..." he continued, voice low and rough, "the girl who I argue most of the time, and the girl who makes my heart race every time she runs across rooftops... what of it then?"

Your back was pressed firmly against the door. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. His gaze never left yours, not even for a second, as if he was afraid you'd disappear the moment he blinked.

You opened your mouth to protest, heart racing wildly.

"Jisung, we can't— this isn't—"

But he didn't let you finish. Before the words could fully leave your lips, Jisung closed the remaining distance and captured your mouth with his. The kiss was sudden, urgent, and breathtaking. Like he had been holding back for far too long.

Your eyes widened in shock. Your hands instinctively rose to push against his chest, wanting to pull away, knowing this was dangerous, knowing you shouldn't let this happen. But the moment his warm, soft lips moved against yours, all your resolve crumbled. A quiet, helpless sound escaped your throat as your body betrayed you. Your clenched fists slowly loosened, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie instead of pushing him away. The kiss deepened, and you felt yourself melting into it, knees weakening under the intensity.

Jisung's hand slid from the door to gently cup the side of your face, tilting your head as he kissed you harder, pouring months of hidden tension, frustration, and longing into every movement. His other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

You knew you should stop this. But God... his lips felt like heaven. The way he kissed you, desperate, tender, and hungry all at once made your mind go blissfully blank. A warm shiver ran down your spine as you finally gave in completely, kissing him back with just as much fervor. Your left hand rested gently against his chest while your other hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. A soft sigh slipped into his mouth as you surrendered to the feeling.

Jisung let out a low, shaky breath against your lips, like he couldn't believe this was really happening.

You barely had time to catch your breath. Jisung's hands slid down to the back of your thighs, gripping them firmly. With surprising strength, he lifted you up effortlessly. A startled gasp escaped your lips as your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He didn't hesitate. His mouth found yours again in a hungry, heated kiss as he carried you across the room.

Your fingers tangled deeper into his hair, kissing him back with just as much desperation. Every step he took sent sparks through your body. The feeling of being held so securely in his arms while his lips moved against yours made your head spin.

Jisung reached the edge of your bed and sat down, keeping you wrapped around him. He pulled you closer until you were straddling his lap, your knees pressing into the mattress on either side of his thighs. His hands stayed firmly on the back of your thighs, holding you flush against him.

He broke the kiss for just a second, breathing heavily against your lips, eyes dark with want.

"Tell me to stop..." he whispered, voice rough and low, "and I will."

But you didn't tell him to stop. Instead, you leaned in again, capturing his lips in a deeper, slower kiss. Jisung groaned softly into your mouth, one hand sliding up your back while the other stayed gripping your thigh, pulling you even closer. The warmth of his body, the way his chest rose and fell against yours, and the undeniable hardness growing beneath you made heat pool low in your stomach.

You rocked your hips slightly without thinking, drawing another quiet groan from him. His fingers flexed against your skin as he kissed you harder, tongues brushing, breaths mingling. Jisung pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with pure reverence and desire.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he murmured, voice husky. "How long I've wanted you."

Jisung's hands tightened on your thighs as he pulled you even closer on his lap. The kiss grew deeper, slower, heavier. No longer just desire, but months of unspoken longing finally breaking free.

"Can I?" he softly asked, as he try to lift your shirt up. Your eyes fluttering shut trying to look at him, and when you nodded your head giving him the permission he needed, he stopped hesitating.

He pulled your shirt over your head in one smooth motion, lips immediately attaching to your neck, sucking and kissing down your collarbone as his hands explored your bare skin. You moaned softly, arching into him. The feeling of his warm palms sliding up your back, unclasping your bra, and cupping your breasts made you shiver.

You tugged his hoodie and shirt off together, finally feeling his bare chest against yours. The heat of his skin, the firmness of his muscles, the way his heart pounded wildly under your palm, it was intoxicating.

Jisung flipped you gently onto your back, hovering over you as he kissed down your body with reverence. Every touch felt like worship. He took his time, lips brushing over your breasts, tongue circling your nipples until you were whimpering, hands gripping his hair. Lower and lower he went, until he was between your thighs, pulling your pants and underwear down in one go.

When his mouth found your core, you cried out, back arching off the bed. He groaned against you, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He ate you out like a man starved, slow, deep, and devoted. Like he had dreamed of tasting you for months.

"Jisung— fuck—" you moaned, thighs trembling around his head.

He didn't stop until you came hard on his tongue, gasping his name like a prayer.

Only then did he crawl back up, kissing you deeply so you could taste yourself on his lips. You reached down, palming him through his pants before pushing them down. When you finally wrapped your hand around his hard, throbbing cock, Jisung let out a broken groan, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"Baby... I need you," he whispered, voice shaking with restraint.

Jisung pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, breathing ragged. His hand gently caressed your thigh as he positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against your wet folds.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, voice hoarse with need.

You answered by pulling him into a deep kiss. He pushed in slowly. A broken moan slipped from both of you as he stretched you open, inch by inch. Jisung's eyes fluttered shut, forehead pressed against yours as he sank deeper.

"Fuck... you're so tight," he breathed shakily, voice trembling with restraint.

You gasped softly at the fullness, your walls fluttering around his thick length. He kept going until he was buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. For a moment, neither of you moved, just feeling each other completely.

The stretch was perfect. The warmth. The way he throbbed inside you.

Jisung let out a soft, broken moan against your neck, his fingers digging gently into your hip. "You feel... so fucking good. I've been dreamed about this."

When he started moving, it was slow, deep rolls of his hips. Every thrust was deliberate, dragging against that perfect spot inside you. Soft, breathy moans filled the room as your bodies rocked together.

"Ah— Jisung..." you whimpered, legs tightening around his waist.

He groaned lowly, the sound vibrating against your skin. "Fuck, say my name again."

"Jisung..."

He kissed you deeply as he picked up the pace just slightly, still making love to you rather than fucking you. Every thrust was long and sensual, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, savoring the way your walls clenched around him.

You moaned softly in his mouth as a response, your hands sliding up his back, feeling the muscles shift under your fingers with every movement. The slow, steady rhythm made the pleasure build gradually, warmly, spreading through your entire body.

He angled his hips a little differently, and a sweeter, higher sound slipped from your lips. Jisung groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he kept that same perfect pace, thrusting deeper but never faster.

Neither of you spoke much, just soft gasps, quiet moans, and whispered names. You could feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the way he throbbed inside you, the slight tremble in his arms as he held himself back. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core, warm and heavy.

"I'm close..." you breathed, nails lightly pressing into his back.

"Me too," he whispered, voice strained. "Let go, baby."

A few more deep, smooth thrusts and you came with a soft, broken moan, clenching tightly around him. Jisung followed right after, burying himself deep as he groaned lowly against your neck, hips stuttering as he spilled inside you.

Both of you trembled, breathing heavily in sync. Jisung stayed buried inside you for a long moment, placing lazy, gentle kisses along your shoulder and collarbone as you both came down from the high.

Silence settled over the room. The only sounds were your slowing breaths and the faint hum of the city outside your window. Neither of you spoke right away. The weight of everything that had just happened slowly sank in. Your body was still buzzing with pleasure, your skin flushed and sensitive, while a deep, warm emotion bloomed in your chest.

Jisung's fingers traced lazy patterns on your bare back. You could feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady but a little faster than normal. After a few minutes, he finally shatters the silence.

"...What does this make us?" he asked softly, his voice low and a little uncertain. His hand paused on your waist as he waited for your answer.

You lifted your head from his chest and looked at him. His eyes were warm, vulnerable, and full of quiet hope. For a moment, you just stared at him—this boy who was both your annoying seatmate and the hero who had chased you and made you feel so many emotions.

You let out a small breath, a faint smile tugging at your lips. "If you're okay dating someone like me... a thief," you said quietly, "then I guess we're dating?"

Jisung's eyes softened. A slow, genuine smile spread across his face as he pulled you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You lay quietly in Jisung's arms, your head resting on his chest as his fingers gently stroked up and down your back. The silence between you was comfortable now, warm and full of unspoken feelings.

After a while, Jisung spoke again, his voice soft against the top of your head.

"You know you're not just a thief, right?" When you lifted your head again slightly to look at him. He was already watching you, eyes gentle and sincere.

"One of the main reasons I never tried too hard to stop you from stealing those jewels... is because I know where they're going," he continued quietly. "Your methods might not be justified in everyone's eyes, but you're a hero too, Y/N. In your own way."

That acknowledgement hit you deeper than you expected. Your heart fluttered strongly in your chest, warmth spreading through your entire body. For so long, you had carried the weight of being the bad guy, the thief, the villain in someone else's story.

But hearing it from him—from Spiderman—made something inside you shift. You buried your face back into his chest, hiding the shy, emotional smile threatening to break out. Jisung chuckled softly and tightened his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your hair.

"Maybe... just maybe," you whispered against his skin, "falling for Spiderman wasn't as bad as I thought it would be."

Jisung smiled, a bright, heart-shaped grin you could feel even without looking. "Good," he murmured, voice full of affection. "Because you're stuck with me now, Kitty."

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[hanjinology]

so uhm, hi! see you in a week? HAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm so excited with this, hopefully @skzcodered's ideas will be put in justice once i finished this. anyone wants to be specifically tagged here. feel free to leave a comment! <333

[hanjinology]

so uhm, hi! see you in a week? HAHAHAHAHAHA. I'm so excited with this, hopefully @skzcodered's ideas will be put in justice once i finished this. anyone wants to be specifically tagged here. feel free to leave a comment! <333

[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 6k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< part 4 | part 6 >

“no, no, that’s cheating! you can’t just change the rules halfway through”, han says, pointing at seungmin from where he’s half-lounging on the sofa.

“i didn’t change anything”, seungmin says calmly, “you just didn’t understand the rules in the first place”

“i understood perfectly”, han insists, “you’re just-

“you’re losing, han”, chan cuts in, laughing at han’s reaction.

han turns to him immediately, “bro, you’re supposed to be on my side”

“am i?”, chan says.

“traitor”, han mutters under his breath, making lily laugh from beside him. 

“i think you just don’t like losing”, yeong says, crossing her legs as she leans back against the arm of the sofa.

“i never lose”, han says.

“you literally lost five minutes ago”, you say, laughing even harder.

“y/n! i thought we were friends”, han says, shaking his head.

yuna is sitting near lily, smiling and laughing with all of you, nodding along, slowly easing into the group. she had introduced herself earlier this morning, just before you had breakfast together, a rare occurrence in the house. she had told you she’s a model and loves sports and going out to eat in new restaurants, to try new food.

“i’ll make you all a list”, she had joked lightly, “of places we can all try together”

after that, you had made small groups to divide the house chores - some of you stayed in the house cleaning and others went out to get groceries. and now, after all of you had finished, you are in the living room together, just teasing and joking, no pressure, no expectations until the doorbell rings again.

“i’ll go”, minho says, standing up.

you watch him walk out of the room, your curiosity pulling your attention towards the hallway and when he comes back, he’s holding something in his hand. an envelope, obviously. minho doesn’t say anything, just walks to the centre of the living room and opens it. 

you sit up slightly, your attention fully on him now. he pulls the paper out, unfolds it and then reads it.

‘participants, go downstairs’

“and… that’s it?”, chan asks.

minho nods, “yeah, that’s it”

you all look at each other, before chan speaks again.

“okay…”, he says, all of you standing up slowly, “that doesn’t sound suspicious at all”

“not at all”, you murmur under your breath.

“if something jumps at me, i’m leaving the show”, han says.

“you’re not leaving anything”, seungmin says, heading towards the stairs like all of you.

one by one, you all leave the living room, and walk down together, your footsteps echoing in the stairwell. when you reach the basement, the lights are already on, and the space isn’t empty this time. 

in the centre of the room, there’s a large table, set with lots of food - plates, bowls, glasses, dishes laid out neatly, steam still rising from some of them.

“oh-”

“wait-”

“what?”

a few laughs break out almost immediately.

“okay, i guess this means i’m not leaving the show”, han says, walking towards the table.

you can’t help but smile, the tension from before melting just a little as you step closer too.

“this is… really nice, actually”, you say.

chairs scrape against the floor as everyone sits down, filling the space around the table. you take a seat between yeong and han, your eyes still moving over the food for a few seconds, taking everything in.

“okay, i’m starving, let’s eat”, han says.

“of course you are”, lily says, laughing.

at first, there’s a bit of hesitation, everyone reaching carefully for the food, but it doesn’t last long. soon plates are being passed around without asking and people lean over each other to grab more food. 

across the table, chan is talking to yuna, his voice calm and warm, his hands moving as he explains something. you don’t mean to look for too long, but your eyes linger for a second before you look away.

next to you, han nudges your arm, “you’re quiet”

“i’m not, i’m eating”, you say.

“and? that has never stopped me from talking”, he says.

“that explains a lot”, you tease him.

han gaps, placing a hand over his chest, “what? i’m being attacked in my own house”

“you don’t even own this house”, seungmin says from across from him, making you laugh so hard that chan turns to look at you.

once the food is gone and your plates are empty, you sit there, looking around the table and catch some of them doing the same, the same look on their faces - curiosity, suspicion, expectation, eagerness.

“so… why are we actually here?”, seungmin says, voicing it out loud this time.

“good question”, minho says.

no one answers because no one knows and then, your phone vibrates. you unlock your phone, your eyes scanning the text, before reading it out loud.

exchange: the female participants will choose their dates for tomorrow. please send the name of the male participant you would like to go on a date with and remember, you cannot choose your ex

“oh…”, yeong says softly beside you. 

“do we have to choose right now?”, yuna asks no one in particular. 

you don’t look at anyone for too long and you don’t let your eyes settle because you already know. your thumb hovers over the screen, your heart beats a little faster and then, you start typing.

chan.

the name comes to you immediately, almost natural, and yet, your chest tightens as you type it. you don’t let yourself think too much, so you just shake your head and press send, but your phone feels heavier in your hand after that. 

around you, the other girls are doing the same, none of you saying anything out loud, and after a few seconds - after all of the girls have sent the text you assume - the boys' phones vibrate this time, only theirs.

you look up without meaning to, your eyes moving to chan before you realise you’re doing it. he’s looking at his phone, reading the message and then, a small smile appears on his face. he then looks up, right at you, and your breath catches for a second. 

he doesn’t say anything then, but he doesn’t need to- the way his eyes soften when he looks at you tells you everything - he knows you’ve chosen him. you look away first, your heart beating even louder now, but before you can think too much about it, seungmin’s phone vibrates. he picks it up, glancing at the screen before speaking.

“it says…”, he pauses briefly, his voice steady, “the female participants will go back to the house and the male participants will go to the X room to chat with their date’s ex” 

your stomach tightens immediately and your grip on your phone tightens again. you feel nervous, more than before. chan is gonna go to that room and ask questions about your past, about things you haven’t said in this house yet. and he’s gonna ask your ex.

you look down at the table, your thoughts already starting to spiral. 

what does chan wanna know?

what is your ex gonna say?

chan lowers himself into the chair, his hands resting on his thighs at first before one of them drifts up to rub the back of his neck. the computer screen is already on and the chat is open, waiting for him.

he exhales quietly, leaning back, his eyes scanning the empty chat like it might offer him something - anything - about what he’s supposed to do next. he’s been here before, sure, but this time is different, he knows it. he feels it in the way his chest tightens when he thinks about you.

he swallows as his fingers move closer to the keyboard, then pull back. he runs a hand through his hair, letting out a small breath.

“what do i even ask…”, he mutters softly to himself.

he leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees now, his gaze fixed on the blinking cursor. he breathes in deeply, breathes out, and then, starts typing his first question.

chan: what was y/n like when you first met?

he sends it before he can overthink it and he waits for almost a minute before the reply comes.

ex: quiet at first, but always happy smiling. she was observant, very observant. but once she opened up she was… bright. she had this way of making everything feel lighter and better without trying too hard

chan reads it once, and then again. that’s so you, that hasn’t seemed to change. his fingers start typing the next question.

chan: what made you fall for her?

there’s a pause this time, longer, and chan sits there, watching the screen, his jaw tightening as he waits.

ex: everything. the small things. the way she listens. the way she cares and is always there. she made me feel understood in a way i didn’t know i needed

chan exhales slowly through his nose. his hand lifts, pressing lightly against his lips as he leans back in the chair. he gets it, he understands, but understanding doesn’t make it easier. he leans forward again, his fingers hovering before he types the next question.

chan: what was the reason you ended things?

this time, the pause feels heavier, like the person on the other side is choosing their words carefully.

ex: it wasn’t just one thing, it was a lot of small things that built up. but i’d rather not discuss it here if you don’t mind 

chan’s gaze softens as he reads. he can almost picture it - a relationship that didn’t break in one moment, but it broke slowly, quietly. he swallows, then types again.

chan: do you still love her?

his finger hovers the send button for a second longer than with the other questions. 

should he send it?

but it’s too late, he has already pressed the button and the reply comes quicker than with any of the other questions, because there’s no hesitation behind it.

ex: yes

his chest tightens again, sharper this time. he leans back, his gaze lifting from the screen to the mirror in front of him. of course, of course he still loves you. and he knew that already.

he’s not completely sure of who your ex is, but he has his guesses, and this just confirmed it. he could feel it, see it. and now it was written there too. 

crystal clear.

and it hits differently when he reads it.

his hand drifts up again, brushing over his lips as he exhales slowly. for a moment, he considers stopping there, closing the chat and leaving, because this is already enough. but then, there’s one question left, the one that’s been sitting in his chest since he walked into this room. the one he’s been trying not to ask because he doesn’t want the answer but at the same time, it’s the one he needs.

he leans forward again and his fingers move slower this time, more careful.

chan: do you think she’s over you?

he stares at it, his heart beating louder now, and sends it before he can delete it and leave the room. he sits there waiting for the answer, the pause much longer this time. chan doesn’t move, he doesn’t even blink. he just watches the screen, his chest rising and falling slowly as he waits until, finally, the message comes through.

ex: i’m not sure how to reply to that

chan’s breath catches slightly and he leans as another message appears.

ex: i want to believe she’s not

another pause and then, the last message.

ex: but i’m scared to find out the real answer

the next morning, you had sat at the table with the girls while you had breakfast, a cup of coffee between your hands as you listened to the girls talking, and even though you responded when they talked to you, your mind had been somewhere else entirely.

back in the basement.

back in the X room.

back to the questions chan may have asked.

back to the answers you’ll never know.

back-

you stopped yourself because thinking about it doesn’t change anything, and yet, you’ve been doing exactly that since yesterday. all afternoon, all evening, even last night, staring at the ceiling while your phone rested heavy in your hands.

you had hesitated again but in the end, you had texted your ex and even after sending it, you had stayed there, staring at your screen, wondering why.

why him again, if hours ago you had chosen chan for another date.

why always him.

now, you push those thoughts aside as you stand in front of the mirror in your room. your reflection stares back at you, familiar but slightly different these days. you adjust your outfit, smoothing the fabric down as you think about today.

you date with chan.

the thought settles in your chest, soft but present, and it makes your heart race but in a different way, lighter and easier, and maybe that’s what makes it confusing in its own way. you reach for your bag when there’s a knock on the door. you walk towards it to open it and find chan, ready too, a smile on his face that tells you he’s a little nervous too.

“hey”, he says, a small smile forming on his lips.

“hey”, you say, mirroring it without even thinking.

“you ready?”, he asks.

you nod your head, “yeah”

he steps back slightly, giving you space to walk out. you grab everything you need and step into the hallway, closing the door behind you. everyone else is already gone, it’s just the two of you, walking side by side towards the door, your steps in sync without trying. you open the door and step outside together, the air fresh against your skin and then, you leave the house side by side, together.

“okay, this thing is not moving”

“it is moving”

“chan, we’ve been in the same spot for the last five minutes”

“that’s because you’re not pedaling properly”

you turn to look at him, your eyebrows raised, still laughing, “i am pedaling properly”

he shakes his head, laughing too, “no, you’re not! you’re just… moving your feet”

“okay, that’s literally what pedaling is, chan”

he laughs again, the sound loud and bright, and leans forward like doing that will magically make the boat go faster.

it doesn’t.

you let out a breath, then start laughing again, dropping your head for a second.

“oh god, this is so embarrassing”, you say between laughs.

“no, no, it’s fine”, he says quickly, though he’s clearly trying not to laugh harder, “we’re just… going slow”

“chan, we’re not going slow. we’re not moving”

“we moved earlier”

“what? two metres?”

“well that’s progress, isn’t it?”

you laugh again, shaking your head, your legs still moving even if it doesn’t seem to be doing much. the sun reflects off the water, soft and warm, the breeze just enough to make everything feel light and simple.

you watch as the rest of the boats keep passing you, you’re probably the worst pair on the river right now, but you’re still laughing. you look at chan again and he’s already looking at you, a grin still on his face.

“okay, i’ve got a new plan”, he says, “we stop trying”

you blink at him, “what?”

“we stop trying to move and just enjoy the view”

you laugh, shaking your head, “yeah, okay”

you look around - the river, the boats, the sky, the city stretching in the distance, then back at him.

“just say you’ve given up”

“yeah, you got me there”, he says laughing.

you laugh again, your legs slowing down until they eventually stop and you just sit there, enjoying the view. by the time your slot ends and you step off the boat, your legs feel sure but you’re still smiling. 

“that was a workout”, you say as you walk beside him.

“i know, and now, i think we should reward ourselves”, he says.

you look at him, amused, “with what?”

he gestures ahead, and you see the street stands lining the river.

“food”

you don’t even hesitate, “that’s the best idea you’ve had today”

the area is lively, full of people walking around, music playing faintly from one of the stands, the smell of different foods mixing in the air. you stop at one of the stands and buy some fish cakes you can eat while you walk around. he insists on paying before you can even reach for your wallet.

“chan-”

“it’s fine”

“you don’t have to”

“i want to”

you look at him then let it go, “okay… thank you”

“you’re welcome”, he says with a small smile.

you walk together after that, eating, pointing at random things, commenting on people passing by, just laughing and joking together. you stop at another stand with small handmade toys, picking up a little ballerina and looking at it.

“this one is cute”, you say.

“it looks like you”

you blush and roll your eyes, pulling the toy back down, but the smile doesn’t leave your face. you keep walking until you find another stand, quieter and less crowded. your steps slow down without you even realising it. it’s a jewelry stand with simple pieces displayed neatly - necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings. your gaze drags over them absentmindedly at first until you stop when you see a ring.

it’s simple and delicate, nothing too flashy, but something about it catches your attention. you reach for it without thinking, picking it up to look at it closer.

“this one’s nice”, you say.

chan steps closer to you, looking at it too.

“yeah”, he says softly.

“that’s a couple ring”, the seller says, pointing to the pair displayed together.

you freeze slightly and your eyes move to the second ring. matching. your fingers loosen just a little before you place it back down.

“oh- i-i didn’t realise…”, you say quickly, taking a small step back.

“it’s okay”, the seller says, smiling.

but you’re already shaking your head, “no, i was just looking-”

“we’ll take them”, chan says.

you blink and then turn to him.

“what?”

chan is already reaching for his wallet.

“chan, no-”

“it’s fine”, he says.

“it’s not fine, it’s a couple ring and we’re… we’re not…”, you say.

“then it’s not a couple ring”, he cuts in, looking at you with a small smile, “it’s friendship ring”

you hesitate.

“still-”

“you liked it”, he says simply.

you open your mouth to argue again, then close it, because he’s already paid for them and the seller is already wrapping them.

“you’re impossible”, you mutter.

he smiles, “yeah, i’ve been told”

the seller gives you a small bag with the rings and you leave the stand, walking a few steps before you stop again. chan opens the bag and hands one of the rings to you.

“here”, he says.

you look at it in your hand and then at him.

“are you sure?”, you ask him.

“yeah”, he nods his head, “it’s just a ring”

just a ring. 

you look back at it for a second longer and then, you slip it onto your finger and then exhale without realising it, as he does the same. 

“thank you”, you say quietly.

he smiles at you, “it suits you”

you look at him again, then back at your hand. you look at the ring, resting there, light, but somehow, not feeling like it. 

not long after that, you head back to the car together and drive back to the house. you rest your hands on your lap, your fingers brushing against the ring every now and then and each time, your gaze drops for just a second, like you’re still getting used to it being there.

chan notices once but he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and looks back at the road. 

when you finally pull up to the house, the sun is already lower in the sky, casting a soft golden light over everything. you step out of the car and walk in together, going straight to the kitchen and finding minho and lily already there. 

“you’re back”, lily says when she sees you.

“yeah”, you nod, smiling back.

“how was your date?”, minho says, his gaze lingering for a second longer than expected.

“it was really nice”, chan says, laughing softly, “we didn’t drown”

lily laughs too, “that’s always a plus”

before anyone can say anything else, you hear the door opening and closing again, then footsteps getting closer. you turn just as seungmin and yeong walk in, their voices fading when they notice you’re there.

“oh, everyone’s here”, yeong says.

“almost, yuna and han aren’t back yet”, lily says.

you look around for a second, then take a small step back.

“i’m gonna go and get changed”, you say, adjusting your sleeve slightly.

“me too”, lily says, then starts walking with you towards your room.

as you walk to your room, your fingers brush against the ring again and your mind starts wandering and running in circles one more time. you’re so lost in your head that you don’t even notice when your pace slows, just like before when you didn’t notice your ex looking at that same ring on your finger.

the days start blurring together and before you realise it, it’s been almost two weeks since everything started. two weeks of shared breakfast and late dinners, two weeks of learning habits and living with new people. two weeks of living with your ex, two weeks of living with chan. 

the same chan you’ve been getting closer and closer to. these past few days you’ve been going on more dates together, some of them planned - always the same way whenever the doorbell rang, you got an envelope and you had to choose a date that couldn’t be your ex, you all knew the drill by now, it was nothing new - and others unplanned, just one of you asking the other to go somewhere whenever you felt like it.

but it didn’t matter how your dates started, they always ended the same way - with you next to him and with you sending him a text after that. you have texted him each night for almost a week now and you feel good with him, you’re happy, but there’s something else, something you can’t quite name yet.

a weight that settles in your chest when you’re alone.

a feeling that lingers in the shadows even when everything else seems right.

and sometimes, that weight, that feeling, shifts to your hand, to your finger, to the ring.

you wear it every time you’re with chan, almost without thinking, but the moment you come back to the house, you take it off, because you had always pictured yourself with a ring on your finger, a ring that was given to you by somebody else, but this was definitely not what you had imagined, and you-

“we got another one!”

yuna’s voice cuts through your thoughts, stopping yourself from spiraling any further. you leave your room and walk to the living room, seeing yuna with an envelope in her hand. everyone gathers around the table as you all wait for her to open it and read what’s inside.

“okay”, she says, opening it carefully, “let’s see…”

you find yourself holding your breath without realising it as she unfolds the paper and starts reading.

‘some participants will choose their date for a double date today’

a chorus of reactions follows immediately.

“what?”

“oh god”

“a double date?”

you blink, your gaze flicking briefly across the room then back to yuna as she continues reading.

‘after choosing your date, each couple will pick one of the other envelopes. two of them contain the same activity, and the other two have a different one, one is bowling and the other is skating’

“that sounds fun”, han says, already smiling.

“or dangerous”, lily says.

“depends on who you go with”, minho says under his breath.

you let out a small laugh but your attention shifts again when yuna reads the last part.

‘today, the participants choosing their dates are: chan, lily, han and yeong’

chan doesn’t hesitate, he barely even pauses, “i choose y/n”

your eyes meet his instantly, “okay”

han goes next, smiling as he glances around, “yuna”

“yes!”, she says grinning.

lily claps her hands once, “minho”

he looks at her, nodding his head, his lips tight, “alright”

and finally, yeong, “good, because i wanted seungmin”

“great”, he says, looking at her.

“okay”, yuna says, placing the envelopes on the table, “couples, pick your date”

you move with chan almost automatically, stepping closer to the table, and then look at him.

“you pick”

he looks at you, then down at the envelopes, “no pressure, right?”

“none at all”, you say, laughing softly.

he reaches forward and grabs one at the same time the rest reach for their own envelope.

“okay, let’s open them”, seungmin says.

you and chan look at each other briefly before he opens yours, pulls the card out and reads it.

“bowling”

“bowling?”, you repeat, excited.

“yeah”, he nods.

han starts laughing then, “we got bowling too”

“so it’s us four”, chan says.

you glance at han and yuna, then back at chan - a double date, with them. you can already feel yourself getting excited, just as you can hear lily saying what a disaster their double date it’s gonna be because she doesn’t know how to skate.

“there’s no way you’re better than me”, han says.

chan scoffs immediately, stretching his arms, “please, i’ve been good at this since i was a kid”

“yeah?”, han shoots back, “then why do you look nervous?”

“i don’t look nervous”, chan says.

“you do”

“i don’t”

“you do”

“i don’t”

you and yuna exchange looks at the same time and burst out laughing.

“they’ve been like this for five minutes at least”, yuna says, shaking her head.

“it’s actually kind of impressive”, you say, trying to hold back your laughter as the boys keep going.

“i’m just saying”, han continues, pointing at chan now, “you better not cry when i win”

chan lets out a dry laugh, “you’re not gonna win”

“we’ll see”

“oh we will, trust me”

you drop onto the bench, watching them with an amused smile, your legs stretched out in front of you.

“this is gonna be fun”, yuna says, sitting next to you.

“oh, definitely”, you nod your head.

chan finally turns towards you, like he just remembered you’re actually part of this too.

“okay, let’s make it interesting”

you raise an eyebrow, “how?”

he looks at han, then back at you.

“date vs date”

han grins immediately, “umm, yeah, i like that”

yuna nods, “that’s good”

“yeah, okay”

you stand up slowly, brushing your hands against your jeans before stepping closer to chan.

“chan… i should tell you something before we start”, you say quietly.

he looks at you, “what?”

“i uh… i’ve never played before”

he blinks once then smiles, “seriously?”

you nod, a little embarrassed now.

“that’s okay, i’ll teach you”, he continues.

“right now?”, you say.

“yeah, quick lesson”, he says, already reaching for a ball and handing it to you. 

you take it carefully, feeling the weight of it in your hands.

“okay”, he says, stepping closer behind you, “hold it like this”, his hands guide yours, adjusting your grip, “and then you just… step, swing, release”

“just?”, you turn around and look at him, and find out he’s much closer to you than you had thought.

“yeah, just”, he nods and then continues, “i trust you, you’re gonna do great”

you roll your eyes and step away from him, but there's a smile there, one that he doesn’t miss and you can’t quite hide.

the game starts and as expected, you are terrible, your first throw barely makes it halfway before veering off to the side.

han bursts out laughing immediately, “wow”

“don’t say anything”, you point at him.

“i didn’t say anything!”

“i will make sure you choke on your cheesecake”

yuna laughs beside him when she sees his expression after that, “it’s okay, mine's not gonna be much better”

it isn’t but she’s still better than you, that’s for sure. 

chan on the other hand is good, like really really good. strikes, spares, again and again.

“are you sure you’re not a professional?”, han mutters.

chan just shrugs, “told you”

you slowly start getting the hang of it, a little better each round, a little less embarrassing, until you throw, the ball rolls straight, hits and knocks all the pins down.

“did i just-”

“you did a strike!”, yuna shouts. 

you turn to her, your eyes wide, “i did a strike!”

chan laughs beside you, “see? i told you”

you laugh, clapping your hands once, genuinely excited, “okay, maybe i’m actually good at this”

“okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves”, han says.

“shut up”, you shoot back, still smiling. 

you end up winning the game, mostly thanks to chan, but still, a win is a win. you turn to him immediately, laughing as you step closer and hug him without thinking.

“we won!”

he laughs too, his arms wrapping around you, “i knew we would”

han groans behind you, “this is not fair”

yuna nudges him, “we lost, deal with it”

he straightens up suddenly, “okay, rematch”

you pull back from chan, still smiling, “what?”

“another round”, han says, already grabbing a ball again, “but this time, there’s a penalty”

yuna’s eyes light up immediately, “oh that’s good”

“what kind of penalty?”, you ask, a little cautious now.

there’s a pause, all of you looking at each other, trying to think of one when yuna speaks.

“the losers have to hold hands and walk home like that”

you blink, “what?”

“from here to the house”, she says again, clearly amused, “holding hands the whole time”

chan lets out a small laugh, “oh, really?”

han grins, “yeah, really, bro”

you look at chan, then at his hands, then at yours and you hear him speak again.

“okay”

just like that, the game starts again but this time, chan misses.

once.

twice.

balls going slightly off.

pins left standing.

you narrow your eyes at him, “are you serious right now?”

he looks at you innocently, “what?”

“you’re doing that on purpose”

“i’m not”

“yes, you are”

“i’m not”

“chan-”

“i swear”

you look at him for a second longer, because you don’t believe him, not even a little. but the game keeps going and despite your effort, despite trying to actually do well and win this round too, you lose.

han throws his arms up, “yes!”

yuna laughs, “oh my god, this is gonna be so good”

you drop your head, laughing despite yourself, “i can’t believe this”

chan looks at you, trying and failing to hide his smile, “well… i guess we lost”

“no, you let us lose”, you say.

“i didn’t”, he says.

you give him a look but he just shrugs. a few minutes later, after returning the shoes, and getting your things, you’re all standing near the exit. you look at his hand and then look away.

“so…”, you say.

“so”, he says.

he looks at you and then reaches for your hand, your fingers fitting together easily. you can hear yuna and han laughing behind you, but you don’t dare to look at them, your face burning by now. you look at your joined hands for a second and he smiles when he sees you.

“you ready?”, he says.

you nod, not daring to even look up. and then, with your face so read you’re sure you’re almost on fire, you start walking home hand in hand.

when you reach the house, your hand is still in his, and you’ve stopped noticing it somewhere along the way, or maybe you’ve just stopped questioning it. when you push the door open, you can hear voices in the kitchen and the four of you start walking towards it.

the moment you walk in, minho’s and seungmin’s gaze drop to your joined hands, they’re the first ones to notice them and the moment you realise it, you let go of chan’s hand, the moment quick and almost instinctive, pulling away completely.

you clear your throat, “we, um-”, you start, looking at yeong and lily, “there was a penalty”

“a penalty?”, yeong says.

you let out a forced laugh, shaking your head, “yeah, we played a second round and um… the losers had to walk home holding hands”

“no way”, lily says, laughing.

“it was not my idea”, you point out quickly, looking around the room, not really sure why.

“sure”, yeong says smiling.

you turn your attention towards the girls, forcing yourself to settle there, breaking the tension.

“what were you doing?”, you ask them.

“nothing, we just got here, like 10 minutes ago”, lily says. 

“how was your-”

the doorbell rings, interrupting you, and seungmin is the first to move, almost running to the door.

“i got this”

you let out a sigh, wondering what the envelope might have in store for you this time, because of course he’s coming back with a new envelope. when he does, you all move to the table, sitting around it as seungmin opens the envelope and pulls the paper out.

‘participants, you are going on a trip together’

he stops there, everyone looking at each other. 

“what?”, minho says.

seungmin continues reading.

‘you’re going to jeju’

that’s when the room explodes.

“what?”

“no way?”

“are you serious?”

“oh my god, we’re going to jeju!”

seungmin reads the last part.

‘please pack your things. you will leave in two days at the scheduled time’

the energy in the room shifts completely now and everyone starts talking at once again.

“what are we gonna do there?”

“we have to go to the beach”

“we should plan-”

“food. we need to eat everything”

all of you are laughing and smiling, caught in the moment, forgetting what this is really about. it feels good, like you’re actually a normal group of friends planning a trip together, but that is until your phones vibrate, and just like that, the atmosphere changes again.

you pull your phone out slowly, your fingers already feeling a little colder. 

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text. you may also choose not to send a text today

what?

not send a text?

that’s new. your chest tightens slightly and your mind starts moving immediately, too fast, too loud. your finger move over your screen and then-

your ex. like always, like every night. but just like every night, you change your mind and text chan instead.

‘i had a nice day today… even if we lost because of you’

there, sent. 

you lock your phone, placing it on the table in front of you. around you, the others are doing the same and once you all finish, it doesn’t take long until your phone vibrates again and you grab it.

‘my favourite part of today was the walk home’

chan. it is his, there’s no doubt. 

you read his text again and then, you wait, like you do every night. you wait for the second text, your ex’s text. 

the one that has always come, ever since your first night here.

you stare at your screen as the seconds pass, maybe minutes. your fingers tighten around your phone, and your heart starts beating faster.

it’s fine.

maybe it’s just taking longer.

maybe-

your phone vibrates and your heart jumps. you open the text immediately and everything stops, the silence around you never quite this loud.

exchange: your ex did not choose you

a/n: okay so this is the final time i get to ask you this in this fic so: who's the ex?? pls place your bets bc... we're finally meeting the ex IN THE NEXT CHAPTER SEE YOU VROOOOOM 😮

the library

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[itsseohannbin]

I Don't Want To Put You Through Me: Part Three

500 Follower Event! 🥳🥳🍾

© itshannjisung, 2024 / © itsseohannbin 2024

♡ itsseohannbins masterlist ♡

Genre: 💕 Fluff 🫦 Suggestive ⚡️Angst 💔 Hurt 🌧️ Comfort.

Summary: Friends with Benefits. That's all you two were supposed to be. No feelings, no strings attached, just sex. But after a failed confession, a drunken movie night, and another member moving in for their shot, Chan realizes how hard it is to let go of someone who was never rightfully his to begin with.

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader x Yang Jeongin -> Multiple POVs

Warnings: fluff. angst. swearing. suggestive themes. depictions of self-hatred. some fighting. hurt. comfort. soft Innie. Some real cutesy shit tbh. If you think I missed any let me know!

Note: the author has chosen to leave out some of the warnings to maintain an element of surprise for the reader. viewer discretion is advised.</p> <p>** please remember to practice self-care as some of these themes may be triggering to some readers.

Word Count: 28.4k

Story Inspired By -> Put You Through Me by Arrows In Action

Series Master List || Part One || Part Two || Part Three

Enjoy! ♡

Chan’s POV

What am I doing?

Chan’s forehead rested against the steering wheel, both hands gripping it so tightly his knuckles were turning bone white. His heart pounded loud in his ears, fast and relentless, like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest.

Seriously, what am I doing?

He pulled his head back an inch before knocking it forward into the steering wheel again, softly hitting his head as if it would stop the onslaught of thoughts and emotions that were racing through his mind at a million miles per minute.

It didn’t.

What the fuck am I doing?

His car sat idly in the visitor parking lot outside your apartment building. The engine was off, seatbelt still buckled, the early morning sun creeping over the tops of the surrounding buildings. The world was just waking up, but Chan still hadn’t slept.

He didn’t even remember deciding to come here. At some point last night, he grabbed his keys, got in the car, and just drove. His body had moved before his brain could stop it, and eventually, after cruising all night long, his heart brought him back to you.

He had been sitting here now for almost an hour, arguing with himself while staring at the building you lived in like some sort of stalker. Like each brick held an answer and a consequence all in one.

Do I go inside? Or do I put the car in reverse and go home like I should’ve done from the start?

He had no business being here. None at all. He knew you had moved on, that you were healing, that you were happier now than you had been in months. But there was something about the way Jeongin’s hand rested on your stomach back in the HyunBin kitchen during movie night that made Chan’s heart twist painfully.

The memory played on repeat in his mind with no mercy.

You had been standing at the kitchen counter, laughing and talking with the others while they got snacks and drinks prepped for the movie. Hyunjin had been hugging you, arms wrapped around you while he slurred drunken words into your ear. He attempted a waltz, but he was quickly pulled away. And then, Jeongin was right there, stepping into the space like it was instinct, like second nature, like he belonged there.

He slipped in behind you, his hand settling on your waist, fingers splaying across your stomach before he pulled you back against him. Your bodies fit together too easily, too naturally, like pieces of a puzzle slotting perfectly into each other.

It made Chans jaw clench.

“Who’s kissing who now?” Jeongin had teased with a grin on his face.

Chan watched you freeze for half a second, your cheeks flushing, your breath catching slightly when Jeongin leaned over your shoulder to take a shot. He caught the way you swallowed as Jeongin’s torso pressed into you, eyes widening when his face hovered too close to yours, the way your hands shook slightly when you grabbed the glass Jeongin offered you. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves, surprise, or something else entirely, but whatever it was, it made him uneasy.

Despite the shaking, you took the shot glass without hesitation, your head tipping back as the liquid poured down your throat. And then, just as easily, your head fell back against his shoulder, and you didn’t move.

It was brief, barely even a second, but it was enough.

“Hyunjin kissed Y/n.” Han blurted, breaking through the noise.

Chan watched as Jeongins body tensed for a second before he laughed it off, turning his head to look down at you. Your faces were close enough that if you turned and tilted your chin up even a fraction, your lips would’ve met. The anticipation on your face made Chan’s stomach drop.

“How’d that go?” Jeongin asked, his voice laced with amusement.

“Just great,” you replied sarcastically, trying to look anywhere but directly at him.

Then your eyes met Chans, and he could tell immediately that you were flustered and completely on edge from Jeongin’s proximity. He forced a smile to prevent himself from doing anything else. It was tight and controlled, the only thing he could trust himself to do without letting something crack open in his chest.

He nodded once. You smiled back, though it was polite and distant, something he wasn’t used to. And that somehow hurt more than everything else.

He felt like he was going to break, and watching the two of you together made the room feel like it was closing in on him. So, he nodded again, sharper this time, before turning and following Hyunjin out of the room.

He told himself it was fine, that he was happy for you, for Jeongin, that it didn’t matter anymore. But he’d been lying. He wasn’t fine. He hadn’t been for a while now.

For the entirety of the movie, he kept glancing over at you two. He couldn’t help himself. You had laughed at something, head tipped back slightly, the sound bright and genuine in a way he hadn’t heard in months.

Chan hated how much he wanted to see that smile over and over again, so he kept taking chances and looking over. But then he saw it.

Not the smile, but the telltale moment where something was going to be followed by a kiss. The two of you had leaned closer together on the couch, whispering something to each other while the movie played in the background. Jeongin’s hand was cupping your face, and you were both staring into each others’ eyes like you were the only two in the universe.

It made his chest tighten painfully and he had to force himself to look away. He didn’t think he could watch it happen and still remain in control.

He didn’t know what happened after that. He barely remembered the rest of the movie or Felix pulling out a deck of cards, he just remembered that you and Jeongin went off to bed, and he was left feeling empty, hollow, and completely heartbroken.

The real breaking point, however, came later. He didn’t even realize when the shift started. One moment he was sitting there, half-paying attention to the boys playing Mario Kart, poker completely forgotten, and then the next, Felix was wrapping his fingers tightly around his wrist.

“Come here,” Felix whispered. He wasn’t as quiet as he thought it was being. The whisper was loud enough to carry across the room, laced with barely contained excitement, like he was holding onto a secret too good not to share. It was enough to break Chan out of his own mind, where he had been lost in thought all night

Chan frowned slightly, his body instinctively resisting as Felix tugged him to his feet.

”Felix, what are you—”

“Shh!” the blonde shushed him quickly as he pulled Chan behind him. He didn’t look back, just kept pulling Chan down the hallway, past the kitchen, towards the spare room. Chan’s confusion only grew, eyebrows pulling together as a strange sense of unease started to creep up his spine. Something about the way Felix was acting — giddy, quiet, careful— made Chan’s chest contract before he even knew why.

The door to the spare room squeaked softly as Felix pushed it open. He didn’t want to look inside, but his curiosity got the better of him. Felix pointed briefly into the room with a soft smile, and Chan’s eyes followed against his will.

You were curled up on the couch, passed out, tucked into Jeongin like you had always belonged there, and it felt like everything inside him froze over.

Your body was angled towards Jeongins, one of your hands loosely gripping the fabric of his shirt like it was something you needed to hold onto even in your sleep. Your legs tangled with his, face half-hidden against his chest, breathing so slow it was almost non-existent. It was peaceful in a way Chan hadn’t seen from you in months.

Jeongins arms were wrapped around you tightly. One draped securely across your waist, the other tucked beneath you, like he’d adjusted himself just to make sure you were comfortable, like staying like that all night long wasn’t an inconvenience, but instead, an honor. It was natural and easy.

Chan’s breath caught somewhere between his chest and his throat. You didn’t look fragile anymore. You no longer looked like you were holding yourself together out of habit. You looked safe, comfortable, like sleep had come without a fight.

The realization hit him hard then, sharp and final. This wasn’t new to you. It wasn’t a one-time thing. This was routine, something that had been happening long before tonight. It was something steady and consistent, something he had never been able to provide for you.

Something inside his chest cracked. It wasn’t loud or violent, just a quiet, devastating split, like something fragile had finally given out under too much pressure.

The grip Felix had on his wrist loosened.

“Cute, right?” he murmured softly, like he didn’t want to break the spell that seemed to be covering the two of you like a soft blanket.

Chan couldn’t bring himself to answer right away. All he could focus on was the way your fingers twitched slightly against Jeongins shirt, the way your body instinctively pressed closer to him when he shifted in his sleep, and the way his hold tightened without him even having to wake up.

It was protective, loyal, involuntary, like his body had already learned you and was just acting on autopilot. Chan swallowed hard around the ache in his throat.

“Yeah,” he forced out quietly. His voice didn’t sound like his own anymore, be he continued anyways. “Yeah… it is.”

He stepped away before Felix could say anything else, before the image could be burned deeper into his mind like a brand, but it was too late. The damage had been done, and it carried with him anyways.

The next morning only made it all the worse, as if it was even possible.

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. He was trying to sneak out to go to his meeting without waking anyone, but Felix and Hyune were already in the living room, talking amongst themselves; they weren’t exactly trying to keep their voices down, so Chan didn’t really have a choice but to listen.

He had barely stepped into the hallway when he heard them.

“Yeah, apparently they’ve been sleeping like that for months now.” Felix had said, his voice laced with concern.

“Seriously?” Hyunjin asked in surprise. There was silence, and Chan could only assume Felix was nodding wildly.

“Yeah. Innie mentioned it to me a while ago when I asked him about it. She hasn’t slept in her own bed since that guy tried coming back.” Felix went on to explain. Before Chan could even react, Felix spoke again. “It's sad, but I think sleeping with him like that is exactly what she needs.”

Chans fingers curled up slowly into his palms, his nails pressing into this skin. He was trying to ground himself enough to stay standing there and not interfere on the conversation.

“Yeah, if anyone can make her happy,” Hyunjin added, his voice softer now, “it’ll be him. I swear they’re meant for each other.”

The words didn’t hit him like he was expecting. They settled, slow and heavy, like something sinking deep into his bones and refusing to move.

If anyone can make her happy, it’ll be him.

They’re meant for each other.

Chan exhaled slowly, but it didn’t help at all. He unfurled and refurled his fists. Nothing. Because the worst part wasn’t the jealousy. It wasn’t the anger or the regret. It was the understanding.

They weren’t wrong. And now, sitting here in his car, those words wouldn’t stop replaying, over and over and over again. His hands tightened harder, muscles beginning to cramp from the tension.

It hurt knowing you had been sleeping on your couch for months because of him, because of what he did, and because what he didn’t do. It hurt worse knowing that when you needed him the most, he wasn’t there, and now Jeongin was the one holding you through it. He was the one staying, the one who was steady enough not to run, the one doing everything Chan should’ve done from the start.

Chan dragged a shaking hand down his face, moving to press his palms into his eyes like he could block it all out.

Six months. Six months of distance. Six months of convincing himself that staying away was the right thing to do. Six months of telling himself that you deserved better, knowing that he wasn’t allowed to come back after everything he put you through.

Six months of knowing that loving someone meant letting them go.

But seeing you like that, safe in someone else’s arm, made something inside him crack. Suddenly, it wasn’t about what you deserved anymore. It was about what he was on the verge of losing, permanently, without trying to fix it. And knowing he hadn’t even tried to do so was a thought he couldn’t live with.

So that’s how he ended up here, sitting outside your apartment like a complete and total idiot. Engine off, hands shaking, heart racing, staring at your building.

Do I go up, or do I go home and keep pretending I’m okay?

He let out a slow, shaky, uneven breath, but it got caught on the way out, like his body didn’t even want to believe his own lie anymore. Truthfully, he hadn’t been okay for a long time, he was just getting better at hiding it.

His hand moved before he could stop it, opening the car door and slipping out. The cold morning air rushed through him immediately, sharp and biting against his skin. The door slammed behind him louder than he intended, echoing through the near-empty lot.

There was no turning back now.

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and pulled the hood up slightly, lowering his head as he walked towards the entrance of the building. By the time he got inside the elevator, his heart was beating so hard it made him dizzy. The ride up felt endless. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, fingers fidgeting with the rings on his hands as the numbers ticked higher and higher.

What am I even going to say? What if you don’t even answer? Were you even home?

The elevator dinged softly and the doors slid open, and suddenly, he was standing at your apartment door. His stomach twisted violently at the thought of what was going on behind it. He could see it so clearly.

Jeongin standing in your kitchen, making you coffee. You curled up somewhere nearby watching him, the same way you watched Chan all those months ago when he thought he could bear the idea of staying.

Maybe you two were both still sleeping, wrapped together on the couch, legs tangled too intimately to be considered platonic, fingers gripping, faces too close.

His heart stuttered as the image from the other night flashed through his mind. Desperate to keep it at bay, he knocked. He didn’t mean for it to sound erratic, but it came out that way anyways. He knocked twice, then waited ten seconds before knocking again. After another twenty seconds, he knocked again. He felt like a madman, but he just needed to see you.

He raised his hand after another twenty seconds to knock once more, but he stopped when he heard the telltale sound of a lock sliding out of place, and then the handled turned and the door slowly opened.

The sight of you standing in front of him knocked the air straight out of his lungs.

Your hair was messy from sleep, unbrushed and wild.  Your eyes were heavy, like you had just rolled out of bed, but they were bright enough to show you’d been awake for a while. You also had an oversized shirt hanging off your body, the hem resting at the top of your thighs. Chan couldn’t help but imagine the panties that you wore just beneath, but he tried to keep his head out of the gutter.

He thought you looked absolutely gorgeous, and for a brief second, he forgot how to breathe.

His gaze softened, and he was just about to open his mouth to say something, to apologize, to tell you everything that had been going through his mind over the last six months, but his eyes finally registered the details that he didn’t see before.

The shirt hanging off your body was definitely Jeongins; Chan recognized it from the other night, which meant Jeongin never came home, and was probably still here. Then he registered your naked legs, and his breath caught at the realization that you were walking around your apartment half-naked with Jeongin inside.

The next thing he noticed, and ultimately the worst, were the marks that littered your neck and collarbones. When his eyes involuntarily travelled lower, he saw the same marks peeking out from the inside of your thighs, and his teeth ground together in a sudden burst of irritation.

Then, he heard a voice call from behind you, unmistakably belonging to Jeongin. “Y/n, baby. Everything okay?”

Chan’s chest constricted painfully, listening to the footsteps that followed the voice into the corridor. He was surprised to see Jeongin turning the corner from the hallway to the left instead of venturing out from the living room from the right. It made his stomach pinch.

Because that meant you two were undoubtedly in bed together.

Jeongin appeared behind you a second later, his grey sweatpants sitting low on his hips like he just slipped them on a moment before. His chest was bare, and Chan tried not to acknowledge the marks he was sporting on his torso, perfectly matching the shape of your mouth.

When Jeongin’s fox-like eyes landed on Chan, surprise flickered across his face, followed by embarrassment. He ran a hand through his hair awkwardly, the tips of his ears burning bright.

“Uh… hey Channie. What’s going on?” He sputtered out, glancing towards you before bringing his gaze back to Chan.

Chan couldn’t speak. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the two of you as his world came tumbling down around him. A realization sank somewhere deep inside him, deeper than anything ever had before with each passing second.

He was too late.

Following his silence, Jeongin stepped closer, instinctively moving to stand in front of you. It was protective, but not in a way where he was threatened by Chan; more-so in a way that said he didn’t want his leader seeing you in such a compromising state.

If only Jeongin knew.

“Everything okay?” the younger male asked again cautiously, his eyes worried. Chan forced himself to swallow.

“Yeah, I, uh…” his voice caught in his throat, rough and tinged with emotion. He let out a fake cough, trying to keep the uneasiness level. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, and tried to smile through the pain. “I figured you’d be here.”

He watched Jeongin blink in confusion, waiting for Chan to elaborate. Chan cleared his throat again at Jeongin’s silence and nodded, twisting one of his rings around his finger to stay grounded.

“Right. I just wanted to remind you, we leave Thursday for that ambassador shoot with Hyune and Seung.” There was a brief pause before Jeongin raised his eyebrow in question.

“Yeah… I know.” Jeongin drawled out. His brows pulled together in concern, eyes shining with a mixture of worry and confusion.

Chan nodded again, trying to keep his body moving in any way possible. If he stopped for even a second, he was sure he was going to collapse.

“Right. Of course you did. Okay.” Chan shook his head to try and clear the fog from his mind. “Well, we have to be at the airport for six. Are you, uh, coming home before then or should I send Skzigi to pick you up from here?”

There was another long, awkward pause before Jeongin turned to look at you briefly. You gave him a small smile, prying your eyes off Chan for the first time since he showed up.

You nodded softly. Not to grant permission, but to assure Jeongin you would be fine without him there for the night. There was a hesitancy in Jeongin before he nodded back, like he wanted to stay but understood he couldn’t.  And then, Jeongin turned back to him.

“I’ll be home.” He answered.

Chan swallowed roughly, trying to avert his eyes from the small intimate moment the two of you just shared. He took a step back, immediately feeling every bit of the outsider he clearly was. “Right, okay. Well, sorry to disturb your morning. I’ll get going now.”

With that, he turned around before either of you could say anything else and walked back to the elevator. He could feel Jeongin’s gaze burning into his back as he walked, the hallway slowly closing in around him, suffocating him.

When he stepped foot into the elevator, clicking the button for the lobby, he turned just in time to see you standing in the hallway staring at him. It was the last thing he saw before the doors shut, and then he was alone. Only then did he hear the echo in his head.

Y/n baby? Everything okay?

Everything about the way Jeongin said it had been so natural. The words flowed out of his mouth with confidence. There was no second-guessing in his voice. No hesitation. Just quiet certainty, like caring for you had become something instinctive, something he didn’t have to think about anymore.

Chan closed his eyes, a long sigh leaving his mouth as the elevator slowly descended.

He could never be the man Jeongin was for you. He knew that. But for the first time in six months, he wasn’t ready let you go without at least trying to be. And the thought of going up against Jeongin, his little brother, his maknae, terrified him. Not because he was scared he would win, but because he knew he was going to lose.

And yet, he wasn’t ready to give up anyways.

The metal clanged louder than Chan expected it to when he dropped the bar back onto the rack. His chest heaved with each breath, sweat dripping down the side of his face and onto the bench he was laying across. His arms burned, his muscles trembled slightly from the strain, but it still wasn’t enough. Not even close.

He sat up abruptly and reached for his water bottle, taking a long drink before dragging the back of his hand across his mouth. Across the room, Changbin was in the middle of a set, lifting with his usual controlled precision while Han leaned against the rack beside him, scrolling on his phone in between reps.

Chan forced himself back onto the bench, lifting the bar again.

One. Two. Three.

Each rep slammed through his arms and chest like a dull ache, but the real pain sat somewhere deeper, somewhere no amount of weight could reach. The image of you standing half naked in the doorway flashed through his mind, body littered with bites of love and the stench of sex filling the air.

Four. Five. Six.

Messy hair, sleepy eyes, Jeongin’s shirt hanging off your shoulders.

Seven. Eight. Nine.

And then, Y/n baby. Everything okay?

The bar wobbled in his grip, and he barely managed to shove it back onto the rack harder than necessary before sitting up and dragging both hands down his face.

“Dude,” Changbin’s voice cut across the room. Chan barely raised his head and looked over to find him staring across the room, eyebrows pulled together. “You trying to break the equipment or what?”

Chan forced a quick breath through his nose. “Nope. Just lifting.”

Changbin snorted then. “You’ve been lifting for forty-five minutes and you’ve barely rested once.”

Before Chan could respond, Han looked up from his phone and chipped in his two cents, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Chan’s face.

“Yeah,” he added slowly. “And you look like you’re about to punch a hole through the mirror.”

Chan just grabbed his towel from where it was laying on the ground and wiped the sweat from the back of his neck, letting out a long sigh. “I’m fine.” He grunted.

Changbin’s sigh nearly matched his own as he finished his set and racked the weights before walking over, grabbing his bottle to take a drink.

“I call bullshit,” the younger male stated confidently. Han just let out a scoff and nodded his head softly in agreement. Chan didn’t answer right away. He just stood up and walked towards the squat rack, already loading weight onto the bar. The other two just watched him silently for a moment.

“Did something happen?” Changbin asked cautiously after a long pause. Chan swallowed hard as he continued adding plates.

“No.” he said firmly. It was clipped, short, dripping with finality, but Changbin didn’t buy it.

“Did someone say something?” he asked after another second, rubbing the back of his neck with his towel.

“No.” Chan snipped again, trying to focus on locking the carabiners onto the bar so the weights didn’t fall off. His hands were shaking and he hoped to God neither of them noticed.

“Have you slept?” Han then asked. Chan didn’t answer, and it only caused Changbin to sigh heavily and lean against the rack, watching Chan with curious eyes.

“You know, ignoring the questions doesn’t make them magically disappear.”

Chan moved to step under the bar, grabbing onto it tightly before lifting it off the hooks. He lowered into a squat, the weight digging into his shoulders, his legs straining as he pushed back up.

One. Two. Three. Four.

He kept going while the other two watched him silently, waiting for him to say something, anything. But Chan had nothing to say. He kept going long after the burn started, after his thighs started shaking, after his lungs started screaming for air. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw you standing in the doorway, and he forced himself to keep going.

Y/n baby?

The words twisted deep in Chans chest, causing him to falter and lose his balance. He braced himself for the moment the bar was going crush against his trapezoids. He expected it, maybe even wanted it. But without a beat, the boys both stepped forward and grabbed the bar, hauling it off him and racking it back onto the hooks.

“Jesus, Chan, what the hell are you doing?” Han asked, moving around the squat rack to stand directly in front of him. His eyes were wide with concern, the frown on his face deep, like his heart was breaking just from watching Chan push himself.

Chan didn’t answer, and this time, he felt Changbin step closer behind him. His steps were slow, like he was scared Chan would bolt if he moved too fast.

“Chan,” he tried, but Chan didn’t reply. He was too busy trying to catch his breath, to suck in enough air to keep his lungs from exploding, to keep his heart from collapsing.

“Channie,” Changbin tried again. Han just stood and watched helplessly. Unlike Changbin, he’d never seen Chan in such a state, and it made guilt pinch at Chans insides. He never wanted his members to see him lose control like this, especially not Han, who was already struggling more than enough in his own ways.

But Changbin had seen this side of him many times. Changbin knew Chan worked out to relieve his stress, to lock out his emotions, to keep himself grounded. And he knew that in moments like this, where Chan refused to listen and kept pushing himself to the limit, he needed to be stopped. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, Changbin knew the drill.

Chan just wasn’t sure he wanted his help this time.

“Bang Chan!” Changbins voice rose an octave, his tone firm and full of the authority Chan was so clearly lacking. The minute he felt Changbin’s hands rest on his shoulders, he jerked away and pushed him off.

“What!?” Chan snapped unintentionally, his face whipping around to look at him. As usual, Changbin wasn’t offended. He didn’t step away, didn’t lose his cool, didn’t snap back. He just stood there and studied Chan with all the ease of someone who was in complete control.

It was silent for a moment while Changbin’s eyes flickered over Chans face, trying to piece together what was happening in his head. He probably noticed the dark circles under Chans eyes, the tightness of Chans jaw, the way his shaky hands wouldn’t stop moving, even when he was standing still.

Finally, after a few moments of nothing, as the tension from Chan’s outburst began to dissipate, Changbin let out a long sigh. “You look like you’re about five seconds away from either crying or fighting someone.” He stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, or both.” Han let out with a huff of air, swallowing hard as he stepped out of Chan’s personal bubble. Chan knew Han wasn’t afraid of him, but the younger man knew when to give Chan his space and when not to. And right now, he clearly needed it.

Chan curled his fingers into the palms of his hands, trying like hell to keep everything under control, to keep everything at bay, to make sure they didn’t see the cracks and shards of glass that sat deep within his soul.

“Yeah,” He let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Something like that.”

Changbin crossed his large arms over his chest, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek. “You wanna tell us why?” he asked, eyebrows raising expectantly.

 Chan didn’t answer. He just moved to grab his water again, eyes diverting to the floor while he took a long drink. When he lowered it, the truth came out, quiet and uneven in a way neither of the boys heard before.

“I went to see her this morning.” He admitted.

When nobody said anything, he glanced up at the two of them. He watched Han blink, slowly sliding his phone into pocket of his sweats, while Changbin straightened slightly. Both of them gave him their full attention, and it was then that everything slowly spilled out.

“….Y/n?”

Chan nodded once at the question; his jaw clenched so tightly his teeth almost cracked. The silence fell heavy on all of them, each of them lost in their own thoughts before Han slowly moved to stand next to Changbin.

“And?”

Chan’s shoulders sagged slightly, as if carrying an invisible weight. His voice was almost a whisper.

“And I shouldn’t have gone.”

Changbin let out an uneasy frown, brows pulling together.

“Why?” he pressed gently, voice tentative. Chan just exhaled slowly, eyes fixed on the ground like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The words he let out next tasted bitter, and a ball of guilt formed in his stomach.

“Because Jeongin was there.”

A pause stretched out, thick and suffocating. Chan waited, expecting them to catch on. Because Jeongin was always at your place, but now, it was a matter of what state he was in when Chan showed up uninvited. Half-naked, hair pulled in every direction, shirt hanging off your body instead of his own.

Y/n baby.

Hans eyes widened a fraction, recognition dawning on his face. His jaw slackened, and all he could manage was, “Oh.”

Changbins hard expression softened, pity shining bright within the lines of his face as he winced slightly, like he was bracing for impact.

Chan let out a hollow laugh, devoid of humor, almost sarcastic. “Yeah,” he said, twisting his ring unconsciously, fingers trembling. “I knew he would be.”

“But you went anyways.” Changbin stated flatly, like a fact rather than a question. Chan just nodded slowly, guilt still shadowing his face, twisting in his gut.

“So, what happened?” Han asked, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to bridge the silence.

Chan just kept his eyes on the floor, his shoulders heavy as he tried to get his thoughts in order. When he answered, his voice was strained and hesitant, like he was afraid that of saying it all out loud.

“I knocked. She opened the door, and he was inside.” He paused and tried to stop his throat from tightening in on him. “They were both half-naked and littered in marks.”

The words fell like stones into the stillness. The gyms faint hum of the overhead lights seemed deafening. Chan swallowed hard, and he listened to the sound of Changbin and Han both shuffling cautiously behind him. Then, Han broke the silence, his voice quiet.

“You okay?

Chan let out another humorless laugh and shook his head. “No. Which is why I’m trying to destroy my legs.” He looked back toward the squat rack, eyes becoming unfocused.

“You’re not destroying anything except your ability to walk tomorrow,” Han’s tone was dry, teasing, but the concern lingered beneath it. Chan just shrugged, forcing a smile onto his face. “I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have any schedules then.”

Neither of them laughed. And the silence came back, stretching heavy. Chan just exhaled again, harder this time, shoulders sagging as if he was trying to release a burden he’d been carrying too long.

“You guys don’t get it,” he let out suddenly, finally turning around to face the two of them. His knees shook, though he wasn’t sure if it was from strain or emotion, so he moved to sit on a nearby bench, digging the heel of his palms into his eye sockets so hard he saw stars.

“Then explain it,” Changbins tone was immediate, firm and unyielding, like he was refusing to let Chan hide.

Frustration bubbled over as Chan ran a hand through his hair, eyes flickering with pain.

“I stayed away for six months. Six months, Bin. I let her heal, I let her move on. I told myself that was the right thing to do.” His voice rose slightly, trembling with the effort it took to speak. It felt like one of the plates was now sitting on his chest, pressing down on him until he could barely breath. “I told myself I was okay with it. But I’m not. And now, I’m too late.”

 Changbin shook his head automatically, denial etched into his face. “You don’t know that.”

Chan attempted to send him a sharp glare, but he was tired, worn down, ready to just lay down and go to sleep. His shoulders slumped further. “You’ve seen the way he looks at her. And I saw the way she looks back now. That’s not something you just break.”

The silence lingered, tension palpable while the boys thought of what they could say next to help ease the pain. But there was nothing they could say for him, nothing they could do. He made his bed, and now, he had to lay in it.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Han asked softly. Chan’s eyes found his, and he suddenly felt lost and unsure, completely insecure in this state. He wasn’t used to feeling this way. Normally, he had control. He always had control. He took pride in his ability to remain calm and collected in the worst situations, but here, in the gym with the guys, he felt his façade slipping, and fast.

“I don’t know.”

The words hung there, thin and fragile, and Chan felt like he was on the edge of his breaking point. His eyes moved to the mirror, looking at himself with a mixture of emotions. Beads of sweat were drying on his forehead, his muscles were visibly tense, his hands shaking slightly from the exhaustion, both physical and emotional. He felt as if he was trying to find some version of himself that still existed beneath all the weariness and pain.

At first, it was just that. Staring. Like he was trying to recognize the person looking back at him, trying to grasp what was left of himself, but the longer he held his own gaze the more his expression shifted. His jaw tightened and then relaxed, only to tighten again like he was fighting an internal battle. His breathing, which had begun to steady, grew uneven again. It was shallow, like something inside him was winding itself back up, resisting peace.

Because the truth was, he did know. He just didn’t want to say it.

His hands came up to drag across his mouth again, and then down his chin, trying to ground himself and anchor his body in the present, but it didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. Nothing did. Not the gym, not the exhaustion, not the distance he forced between you and him from the beginning.

“You want to know what the worst part is,” he said suddenly, his voice barely more than a whisper. Neither of the other two spoke, letting him sit to gather his own thoughts. Normally, he loved that about them; how they always gave him the space he needed to think through the tough situations he was put in, but now he hated it. Someone needed to break the silence, and he hated that it was him who had to do it.

“It’s not even that they slept together.” He continued. “I mean, yeah, it sucks. I’m not a fucking robot, but that’s not what’s messing me up.”

He paused, looking away from his reflection, his gaze moving down to his hands. He began rotating the ring on his finger around and around and around again, trying to make sense of the flood of thoughts in his head.

“It’s the fact that I made it so easy for someone else to step in and do everything I should have done. I thought I was able to handle it, but standing there this morning, seeing him standing behind her, hearing him call for her… it made me want to rip him away from her.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the ball of guilt in his stomach felt like it exploded. Because how was able to feel that way towards someone who he’d known for years? Someone who gave him back his youth, who looked up to him, who had been a pillar in the family the boys and him created for each other.

How could he want to do that to Jeongin?

“I wanted to walk in there and pretend none of it ever happened, like I didn’t screw everything up, like I still had a fucking right to stand next to her and tell him to back off.”

He took a deep, shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut, tears threatening to surface but not falling yet. The room grew still, the quiet thick and oppressive. It felt like the air itself was holding its breath. He reverted his eyes back to the floor now, as if staring at it long enough would help make the weight of his feelings disappear.

Then, finally, Changbin spoke up, exhaling slowly. It wasn’t frustrated or angry, just calm and reassuring.

“Okay,” he said, voice even but firm. Chan’s brows knit together in confusion. It’s not what he was expecting. Changbin shifted his weight, uncrossing his arms as he took a small step towards Chan. He bent next to him, bringing his face level with his. “You’re allowed to feel like this. No one is saying you’re not.”

Chan swallowed hard and forced himself to look up at Changbin.

“But, you need to be careful with what you do with it. Because what you’re talking about right now doesn’t just involve you and her. Now, it involves him too.”

Chan’s jaw clenched, muscled tightening in response. His fists curled involuntarily, nails digging into his palms as if he was trying to keep himself anchored. Changbin didn’t falter or look away. He just sat there, giving Chan the shred of reality he needed.

“Jeongin isn’t just some guy. He’s not someone you get to hate or fight or push aside because you’re hurting.”

A sharp exhale left Chan’s mouth, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I know that.”

“No,” Changbin cut him off. “You know it here,“ he paused to tap his own temple, trying to make a point. “But right now? The way you’re talking doesn’t sound like you’re thinking about that at all.”

Chans pressed his lips into a thin line, biting back an argument. He knew he was being called out, and he deserved it.

Changbin’s voice dropped into a softer tone, filled with conviction as he kept talking like Chan wasn’t unraveling at the seams before him.

“He’s family. And if you walk into this without remembering that you’re not just risking her, you’re risking him.”

The one landed heavy, like a blow to his chest.

He dragged a hand over the back of his neck, eyes dropping again, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders, the weight of everything he’s been holding back.

“I’m not going to do anything to him,” he murmured, but his voice was hollow again, lacking confidence. Changbin nodded slowly, his gaze full of understanding.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Just remember that before this turns into something you can’t take back.”

The air settled then. It was still heavy and thick, but for a moment, it was easier to breathe. Then, Han exhaled loudly, awkwardly shuffling on his feet, and Chan knew that whatever was about to come from the younger male’s mouth wasn’t going to be good.

“Okay, I’m going to say something, and you’re probably not going to like it. But I feel like someone has to.”

“Then maybe don’t.” Chan suggested, already bracing himself for the impact of his words. As per usual, Han ignored his request and let out a loud breath, like he was tired of listening to Chan’s emotional breakdown.

Chan couldn’t blame him though. He was tired of having an emotional breakdown.

“You’re acting like you just lost her today. But you didn’t. You lost her six months ago.”

This made Chan lift his head, eyes narrowing defensively, his sharp glare piercing Han. From beside him, Changbin dropped his head and let out a curse under his breath in disbelief at Han’s approach, but neither stopped him from continuing.

“You left. You made your choice. Maybe it was the right one, maybe it wasn’t. But it was still your choice. You don’t get to act surprised now that someone else stepped in when you weren’t there. That’s not how this works, Channie.”

Upon hearing his nickname, Chan shot up from his seat, nearly knocking Changbin over in the process.

“Don’t,” he breathed, voice thick with authority. The words sunk in whether he wanted them to or not, but he pushed the acknowledgment away. Every word was true, and that cut deep, but his anger, his last resort, his defense mechanism, was boiling and he was losing his sense of control.

Han didn’t move. He didn’t take a step back, didn’t soften, didn’t even try and take the edge off what he said. He just stood there, steady and unflinching, like he had no intention of backing down. And that made Chan’s jaw clench harder.

Because that was how you knew Han meant it. Not when he joked, not when he rambled, not even when he argued. It was when he stopped bending, stopped laughing it off. When he didn’t back track, didn’t try to smooth things over the way he usually would.

When he looked like this, calm and certain and unmoving, this wasn’t him just talking, it was him knowing every word he said was true.

“Or what?” Han shot back, his voice sharp and challenging.

Before he could stop himself, Chan’s hand came up. It wasn’t quite a shove, wasn’t quite a grab, but it was close enough that it hung in the air, trembling with the urge to do something more. His knuckles tightened, fingers flexing before the forced himself to lower it.

“Enough.” Changin’s voice sliced through the tension like a crack of thunder, loud and commanding. Both Chan and Han flinched at the power it held, but neither moved as Changbin stepped in between them. He lifted his hands and pushed against both of their chests, stopping them before either one crossed a line they couldn’t take back. His grip was firm but completely controlled.  “Knock it off.”

Chans breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling like he’d run a marathon, eyes burning past Changbin and fixating on Han with a mixture of fury and despair. His jaw was so tight it felt like it was going to shatter.

Han didn’t flinch. He simply just stood there, unwavering, eyes locking with Chans, conviction tinged with something softer in his eyes. It was a type of concern that made Chans heart hurt despite himself.

“Say it again,” Chan couldn’t stop himself from taunting the younger male, looking for a reason, any reason, to stay angry. Because being angry was better than being broken, and it was the only thing he was holding onto, the only thing preventing him from taking everything too far.

Changbins hand twisted into a fist, clutching Chans shirt. He pushed him back slightly, just enough to keep peace. “No. We’re not doing this.”

Chan let out a sharp, frustrated breath, running his hand through his hair again. He took a step back, the haze clearing slowly as he took in what had just happened. He felt like he was caught in a storm of emotion, shoulders sagging, stuck between anger and helplessness.

It was silent for a moment, both of the younger males staring at him like they were waiting for him to pounce again. But Chan just shook his head and grabbed his belongings.

“Whatever,” he snapped. “I’m done with this.”

And with that, he turned abruptly, shoulders squared like he was trying to block out the storm raging inside him. He didn’t bother looking back at either of them, didn’t bother apologizing, didn’t both giving them the benefit of the doubt. They were trying to help him, but he didn’t care.

The door slammed behind him with a force that echoed into the silence of the hallway, and he knew if he stayed even a second longer, he would break for real this time. And he didn’t think he’d be able to stop.

Y/ns POV

The door clicked shut behind you and for a moment, neither of you moved. The apartment felt strangely quiet now, the soft thud swallowing the sound of the elevator as Chan disappeared behind the doors. The silence he left behind was thick, pressing against your chest in way that made it hard to breathe.

Jeongin shifted beside you, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he blew out a long breath.

“Well, that was awkward,” he murmured before stepping into the kitchen. You blinked, still staring at the door. The sound of him opening cupboards and clicking glasses together sounded distant and far away, like you were trapped in a bubble.

Why the hell did he show up? What did he want? Was he really here to remind Jeongin about the shoot, or was there something else going on?

You couldn’t get the image of him standing in your doorway out of your head. The way he showed up, looking destroyed in every way possible. He looked like he was going to say something, anything to break the tension that sparked to life the second you answered the door. He was just standing there, staring at you, eyes running along your body just enough to make your skin prickle.

And then Jeongin appeared behind you with a soft, “Y/n, baby. Everything okay?” and Chan’s entire demeanour changed before your eyes. One second, he looked like he was on the verge of saying something he wouldn’t be able to take back, and the next, he was glaring at Jeongin like he personally offended him.

It wasn’t right. It was odd, out of character, completely confusing, and you hated that your interest was piqued. You wanted to know what was really going on, but you were also way too scared to find out.

You didn’t even realize how fast your heart was beating until Jeongin softly called your name a second later, snapping your world back into focus. You hesitated for another second before you shook your head slightly and followed his voice into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even think he’d be awake at this time.” Jeongin continued as he pulled open the fridge and brought out a jug of orange juice, pouring you each a glass. He turned to hand you one before he flicked on the coffee maker; he knew better than to let you start your day without a cup of coffee regardless of the juice you were sipping quietly. “But, let’s be honest, he probably hasn’t even slept yet.”

You forced a small laugh as you hoisted yourself up onto the counter. Normally, you would opt for the dining chair sitting directly across from you, but the surprise of seeing Chan standing in your doorway looking the way he did, made you crave Jeongins comfort, if only to drive away the anxiety that was buzzing beneath your skin.

Because Chan looked absolutely wrecked, and it made something deep within your stomach pinch uncomfortably.

“Airport at six. Like I’d forget that. We literally just talked about it three days ago.” Jeongin kept muttering to himself, trying to pick apart the pieces of what Chan had said like there was an underlying message behind his words and his reason for dropping by. You didn’t like considering a deeper meaning either. It didn’t sit well in your chest.

“He could’ve just texted you,” you said hollowly, taking another sip of your juice, eyes fixated on the tiles of the kitchen floor.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too,” Jeongin responded as he chugged back his juice and set the empty cup down. Before another word could be said, he stepped in front of you, his hands resting on your knees, that one-hundred-watt smile planted on his face. You felt your heart melt from just the look alone.

Your legs parted automatically for him, allowing him the space to step closer to you. His hands moved from your knees to your waist, pulling you to the edge of the counter, closer into his body as he pressed against you.

“It doesn’t matter though. I don’t want to talk about Channie anymore.” He smirked at you. You felt your heart flutter, a smile coming to your lips despite the anxiety and ache in your chest. “I’d rather talk about us.”

“Us?” you questioned with a quirk of your brow, your arms curling around his neck. Your legs automatically moved to wrap around his waist like it was second nature at this point. It was natural, easy, safe.

Jeongin leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before rubbing his nose against yours.

“Yes, you dork. Us.” He joked. You let out a laugh and dipped your head down, but he pulled it back up with his fingers grasping your chin. He leaned in again, head tilting slightly to catch your lips in another soft, sweet kiss. It was tender, gentle, full of emotion. It never deepened, but it still took your breath away.

“What about us?” You giggled once he pulled away, only to be brought back in again for another kiss, and then another, and then another. Your hands moved to tangle in the strands of hair at the nape of his neck, sighing in content. You swore you’d never get used to kissing him.

When he pulled away again, his fingertips pressing into you just enough to make you dizzy, he was more than a little breathless. He gave himself a few seconds to relax before opening his eyes and resting his forehead against yours.

“Well, for one, I want to know what this is.” He spoke quietly, his voice shaking, like he was scared it was all an illusion he couldn’t bear to break. “Your confession last night was everything I ever could have hoped for, but we still never talked about where this leaves us.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest like a butterfly, a shot of dopamine coursing through your body.  You couldn’t help but give him a shy smile, cheeks flushing from his words.

Last night was everything I ever could have hoped for.

His thumbs continued their slow, absent circles against your skin, warm and grounding, like he was reminding you that he was right there, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Reminding you he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I just,” he started again, quieter now. “I don’t want to assume anything and mess this up.”

“You won’t,” you murmured around a sigh.

One of your hands slipped from his hair, tracing slowly down the side of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips. You didn’t rush, just let your touch linger, like you were learning every inch of him all over again.

You let out a small smile at the way his breath hitched. “You’re not that easy to mess up, you know,” you added softly.

Jeongin let out a huff of laughter, but it’s softer, quieter. His grip on your waist tightened just slightly before it loosened again, like he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. A giggle sat at the tip of your tongue, and you bit your cheek to prevent it from coming out. It didn’t quite work.

He smiled up at you, his cheeks tinting a light pink colour, and it made your heart do somersaults in your chest. “Still,” he said, his voice dripping.  “I want to hear it.”

Another soft laugh managed to escape your lips, gentle and adoring, and it made the tint on his cheeks darken. Before he could turn his face away from yours, you leaned in, inhaling his scent, letting it wrap around you like a blanket. 

He tilted his head, expecting your lips to meet his, but you stopped just an inch away. Your breath mingled with his, and it was then that you noticed just how uneven his breath was. He looked nervous, and it made another smile tug at your lips.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, rubbing your nose against his, your legs tightening around his waist. Your hand came up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly under his eye. “And you’re mine.”

For a moment, he just froze. His eyes flickered over your face, like he was trying to memorize it, like he was making sure you really said that and it wasn’t something he created with his imagination. Then, something in him gave out.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to see his shoulders drop, the tension draining out of him all at once, and before you could say anything, he leaned forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

A soft, muffled breath brushed against your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, pressing you closer to him like he was trying to glue his body to yours. You blinked in surprise for half a second, and then you softened into a smile.

“Oh my God,” you laughed quietly, one hand coming up to cradle the back of his head. “Are you hiding from me right now?”

Jeongin let out a groan against your neck, the sound vibrating through your skin. You could feel how hot his cheeks were getting from hard he was pressing his face into you.

“Don’t,” he mumbled, his voice still slightly muffled. “Just— just give me a second.”

Your fingers immediately slid back into his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck, and you could feel his body melt into it, into you. His grip tightened just a little bit more, his shoulders relaxing further as he pressed closer, as if he had completely given up on pretending he was stable.

“You’re so cute,” you teased softly, unable to help yourself,

“I am not,” he muttered back. You could feel his smile against your collarbone.

“Mmm,” you hummed, tilting your head slightly to give him more space. “You definitely are.”

You both sat there for a couple minutes, basking in the silence of the vulnerable moment. Then, he let out a quiet breath, half laugh, half embarrassment, and turned his head just enough to press his forehead against your shoulder instead, still not quite ready to look at you.

“You can’t just say things like that.” He whispered.

“Like what?” you asked, feigning innocence.

“Like that you’re mine and expect me to act normal about it.” he responded, his voice exceptionally softer now.

Something about the way he said it made your heart flutter, butterflies coming to life once again.

“Why not?” you teased with a smirk on your face. Seeing him this adorable and this vulnerable made something inside you bubble, making your veins feel like they were filling with what could only be described as sunshine.

He huffed softly again, finally lifting his head just enough to look up at you. His eyes were soft, filled with warmth and love, but still vulnerable.

“Because” he whispered back, moving his nose to nudged against yours the way you did with him. “I’ve wanted to hear that for way too long.”

“Well, get used to it.” you said softly. You watched his smile widen and you wasted no time doing the same before leaving a small kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah?” he asked, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Yeah.” 

He studied your face for a second longer, like he was still not fully convinced you were real, that this was real. Then, his hand came up, brushing along your jaw, moving to rest at the back of your neck. His fingers pressed into your skin, bringing you closer to him, and then your lips met.

It was soft at first, then it deepened in a way that felt more certain, more grounded within each other. Your fingers moved to curl into his hair again, and you could feel the quiet exhale he let out against your lips, like something inside him finally settled.

When he eventually pulled back, it was only slightly, just enough to rest his forehead against yours again. This time, he didn’t try to hide, you both just stayed like that for a while, foreheads pressed together, breathing slightly uneven, hands resting where they naturally fell. There was no rush to separate, no urgency to fill the silence. It's quiet, yet comfortable, completely filled with peace.

Eventually, Jeongin broke the silence, though it wasn’t by much. His lips brushed against yours once more, soft and deliberate, like he just couldn’t resist and then he pulled away completely.

“C’mere.” he murmured, nudging you gently.

Without a question, you let him pull you off the counter, legs loosening from around his waist. He moved to fix you both up a cup of coffee before he laced his pinky with yours and guided you to the living room.  He fell into the couch seconds before he pulled you down with him, maneuvering you so your legs were draped over his, shoulder curving into his armpit, head resting against his collarbone. 

One of his arms came up to wrap around your shoulders, the other reaching blindly for the remote on the coffee table.

“What are we feeling?” He asked, his voice light, like nothing in the world was wrong. “Trashy reality shows, or something that’ll make you cry?”

You huffed out a quiet laugh against his naked torso, your fingers idly tracing patterns into the space at the base of his throat. “Both.”

“So greedy,” he teased, nudging your head lightly with his chin before clicking something on.

The TV filled the room with soft noise. He chose something mindless, something easy to follow without actually paying attention. Exactly the kind of thing you both default to when you just want to exist next to each other.

His hand found yours without looking, fingers threading together loosely, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a slow, unconscious movement. You felt yourself sink into it, into him, into the quiet and comfort and safety he never failed to offer you. And for a while, it works.

You laugh when he makes a comment under his breath about something ridiculous on screen, he presses a quick kiss to the top of your head when you shift closer, at some point, your legs tangle together.  His hand slides up and down your arm absentmindedly before resting against your hips like he’s done so a thousand times before.

But even though you’re basking in the bliss of being next to him this way, your dynamic still the same, but also completely different, your mind still wanders back to Chan, and what he was doing standing at your door at six in the morning. 

You were trying to push him out of your head, but his intentions were unclear, and it was gnawing at you.  It made your heart ache. Because you knew you should’ve said something. You should’ve told Jeongin the truth a long time ago.

Yeah, he may have gotten mad at you if you told him who you were seeing, and he may have been pissed at Chan when the inevitable happened, but you felt like it was almost easier that way. Easier than being here, drowning in your own guilt, knowing the lies have gone on too long. You needed to tell him the truth before somebody got hurt.

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to. After everything that happened over the course of the last nine months, you just wanted some semblance of peace. 

“Food?” Jeongin asked after some time, voice slightly muffled against your hair. You were thankful he was so in tune with the show that he never realized how much was going on inside your head. 

“Yeah, okay,” you hummed in response, not really thinking.

“What do you want?” he asked, moving to pull his phone out of his pocket.

You opened your mouth, and then you paused, mind going blank for a second. Not because you didn’t know what you wanted, but because a horrible thought slithered its way into your mind, and it had no right being there. It was uninvited, unwanted, and completely unnecessary but your brain conjured it up on its own anyways.

What the fuck am I doing?

Your fingers tightened slightly where they rested against Jeongin’s skin, nails pressing just enough to ground yourself, to remind yourself where you were and who you were with.

It didn’t work. Because his presence, Chan’s presence, didn’t leave when the door closed. It lingered in the silence, in the way your chest felt too tight and the way your thoughts remained completely unsettled.

You swallowed roughly, shifting against Jeongin without meaning to, and he adjusted himself immediately, because of course he would. His arm tightened against you, and his thumb brushed slowly over the back of your hand like he was smoothing something out he couldn’t see. And it makes it worse, because he doesn’t know.

Chan said he came to remind Jeongin about the ambassador shoot, and maybe that’s what he told himself too, but all three of you knew that wasn’t why he was standing in your doorway.

Chan knew. You had your suspicions. And Jeongin was just confused.

“Want me to pick?” He asked, nudging you slightly, scaring you out of your thoughts. You blinked a couple times, turning to look up at him to find him already smiling down at you.

“Yeah,” you responded quickly, mentally shaking yourself out of the daze you fell into. Satisfied, he planted a kiss on your temple before focusing back on his phone.

“I’ll just get you the same thing I order.” He said with a smile. “You always steal half my food anyways.”

Normally you would laugh, then argue playfully at him. Maybe you’d kiss him again just to shut him up, but instead, your mind drifted. It lingered back to the morning, back to the knock on your door, the way your heart stopped when you saw Chan standing there.

You didn’t know what to say, what to feel, what to even think.

The fact that you hadn’t told Jeongin sat like a brick in your chest, making your stomach feel like it was being squished into oblivion. You should tell him. You knew you should. This wasn’t something you just hide from your person, not like this.

“You okay, Baby?” he asked quietly, his thumb hovering over the food delivery app indecisively. His eyes were on the screen, but his body was always in tune with yours.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep the guilt inside.

“Yeah,” you responded immediately. The lie sat heavy on your tongue, but thankfully, he didn’t call you out on it, he didn’t push, he just hummed softly and pressed his lips into your hair again.

Just focus on him. He’s here, and Chan is nine months in the past.

You forced out a small laugh, mentally shaking yourself out of your thoughts again. Then, in an attempt to calm your racing heart, you reached up to grab his phone out of his hands before he could blink.

“Hey! Wha—”

“Food’s on me today,” you sang lightly, moving to hold his phone just out of his reach with a wink. “Consider it a reward for being so cute earlier.”

The tips of Jeongins ears flushed almost instantly. He let out a small, shy laugh, covering part of his face with his hand. He was adorable, and you were never going to let him live that down.

“Shut up,”

“Make me.”

You didn’t have even a second to react before his lips were on yours once again, knocking the breath clean out of your lungs. Without hesitation, his tongue moved to slide into your mouth, and you accepted the intrusion with ease. For a couple seconds, all you could think about was him.

He pulled away too soon, a teasing smirk curving up the ends of his mouth when he saw the frown on your face. His ears were still burning hot.

“Done,” he whispered against your mouth. You huffed out a quiet breath, completely dazed, your fingers curling into the fabric of his sweats without thinking. A smile tugged at your lips, and he moved again to kiss you. And just for a second, you’re able to let yourself forget.

You let yourself forget it all. All the tension, the guilt, the nerves and anxiety. All of it stopped, frozen in time, and all you can focus on was him. He was warm, easy, safe for your heart, and completely yours. Which is all you ever needed and more.

The thought made your heart stutter, but there was something else that crept in immediately afterwards. It was a feeling, small and miniscule, but still present, and it curled itself into the space Jeongin just made almost without notice. You noticed it though, just barely, because it suddenly seemed like that sunshine you had coursing through your veins earlier was being washed out by a storm.

The feeling was a familiar one, one you’ve felt it before. Not just from this morning, but from earlier earlier. Back when…

It was the same quiet, persistent feeling that lingered in the air long after Chan left, waiting patiently for the moment your guard slipped just enough to let it in.

And now it was here again, deeper, stronger, and way too impossible to ignore.

Hope.

Not for Jeongin, not for you and your new budding relationship. But for Chan.

And you fucking hated yourself for it.

The days leading up to the boys leaving for the ambassador shoot were… weird. Not because anything had happened. It was more like because nothing happened.

You never told Jeongin about Chan. You knew you had to, had to come clean about your history with Chan, had to try to explain that the reason you fell into a near-depressive state not once, but twice, was because of the same man who led his team to success.

Every time you thought about it, about finally just biting the bullet and doing it, your heart cracked, gut caving in on itself to a point where you felt like you were going to vomit just from trying to get the words out.

He deserved to know the truth, no matter how selfish you were for wanting to remain in this bubble of peace that you and he had created over the last nine months. He deserved to know, but you didn’t think you’d ever have the guts to do it.

He deserves someone who doesn’t lie to him.

Someone who doesn’t keep things from him.

Someone who wouldn’t sleep with one of his best friends.

The thoughts of self-doubt crept in during those moments of quiet, when Jeongin wasn’t around, and the more they crept in, the harder they were to ignore.

Because they were right. Jeongin did deserve someone better. He deserved someone who was able to be completely honest with him, someone who would tell him the truth, who wouldn’t have even done it all in the first place.

If you came clean to Jeongin that you use to be in love, or what you thought was love at the time, with his leader, that Chan was the one who broke your heart, then deceived you back into bed only to break it all over again, you don’t think he’d recover. A rift would be created, words would be said that he couldn’t take back, you’d cause a divide within the team, and you would never be able to forgive yourself for being the reason why Stray Kids broke up.

The kids would probably resent you for keeping it to yourself, their loyalty lying with the one who deserved it most. And Jeongin would be caught in the middle, stuck between the devotion he had to his makeshift family, and the love and friendship he’s had with you for longer than he’s known any of them, minus Hyunjin.

Chan would hate you. The kids would hate you. Jeongin would hate you.

Stay would probably hate you too if they ever found out. Even if the band didn’t break up, there would still be that emotional rift, and STAY always had the easiest time picking up on every single change in behavior, so much so that it was near scary. You still didn’t know how you managed to go unnoticed by them all these years.

When you woke up tangled in Jeongins arms the next day after having him distract you from your thoughts all night, it almost felt normal. Like all the feelings of guilt and shame were nothing more than a bad dream.

You both laid together for what felt like hours, basking in each others presence, words barely spoken, bodys pressed against one another. Lips never stopped moving, hands never stopped touching, love never stopped pouring out of every vessel. It was addicting, and you never wanted it to end.

Because when it ended, reality would come rushing back in, and you didn’t think you’d ever be ready for the inevitable that sat on the horizon. You wished that if you continued to have him like this, lips swollen, body moving against yours in all the right ways, then the inevitable would never come, and you’d be happy forever. But you knew that would never be the case.

Eventually, too soon, it came to an end. Tired and spent, you two dragged yourselves to the kitchen, where breakfast was made and quietly shared, smiles exchanged over mugs of coffee and instant noodles, cause that’s all you had left.

If he noticed anything was wrong, he didn’t mention it. He just continued to give you affection that you knew you didn’t deserve. Brushing your hair away every time it fell into your face, arm holding you against him like he couldn’t bear the thought of being separated from you for even a second, leaning in for small kisses that made your heart flutter despite yourself. But the weight of the unspoken words lingered, and you still couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

From then on, time between the remaining three days passed by in a strange blur. It wasn’t the kind of blur where time moved quickly. It was more like the kind where every hour felt stretched thin. You tried to act normal, tried to move through your routines the same way you always did.

Coffee in the morning, music playing softly while you cleaned the kitchen, sitting curled up on the couch with Jeongin while he scrolled through his phone or practiced lines for whatever album they were currently cooking up.

It was beginning to feel normal again, but the guilt inside that was still pressing down on your chest kept reminding you it wasn’t, and it probably never would be again.

Every time Jeongin smiled at you, every time his fingers brushed yours, every time he leaned over to kiss your cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world, you heard the same thoughts pounding at the back of your mind.

You haven’t told him yet.

You don’t deserve him.

He deserves someone better.

It followed you everywhere. It sat between the two of you on the couch, it lingered in the quiet moments before you both fell asleep, wrapped in each others’ arms like everything was okay.

It whispered at you when Jeongin curled his arms around from you behind while you stood at the stove making him dinner. It was only three days, but those three days felt like an eternity of suffering. You played it over in your mind, again and again and again.

How would you tell someone like Jeongin that the person who broke you nine months ago was standing ten feet away from him almost everyday? That the man he trusted with his life, the one he called his leader, the one who had watched the two of you slowly fall into something soft and steady, was the same man who once had your heart in pieces?

Every time you tried to imagine saying the words out loud, your throat would close up like you were having an allergic reaction. Because you already knew what it would do to him, and the thought alone made your stomach twist.

The day before he was supposed to leave felt infinitely worse.

Jeongin sat on the couch beside you, close enough that your knees brushed every time either of you moved, but not quite as tangled as the nights before.

The distance was subtle, almost non-existent, but you felt it, and you were hoping like hell that for once, he didn’t.

You weren’t curled into him like usual, his arm was draped around you, pulling you in without thinking. Instead, his hand rested loosely against your thigh, thumb brushing back and forth in a slow, absent motion, like he didn’t want to push or assume anything.

Your fingers twisted together in your lap, nails pressing faintly into your skin as you stared at the screen without seeing it. The weight in your chest had been building all evening, thick and heavy, pressing into your ribs every time you thought about him getting on a plane and the fact that you still hadn’t said a thing.

You should. You really, really should.

The words hovered at the back of your throat, fragile and sharp all at once, but every time you tried to reach for them, your chest tightened instead, your mind flooding with everything that would come after.

The questions, the hurt, the way his expression would change. He wouldn’t look at Chan the same; wouldn’t look at you the same.

You swallowed hard, blinking slowly as your gaze dropped to where his hand rested against you, warm and familiar. Just seeing it made your heart ache.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he murmured softly, his voice cutting gently through the silence. You forced a small breath out through your nose, your lips twitching into something that was supposed to resemble a smile.

“Just tired.”

The lie came too easily. It slipped past your lips like it belonged there, settling between you before you could take it back.

Jeongin didn’t respond right away. His thumb stilled against your thigh for a moment, like he was considering whether to push or not. You could feel his hesitation, but then, just as softly, his hand moved again,

“Come here,” he said quietly.

Your heart stuttered just briefly, and for a moment, you didn’t move. But, like muscle memory, you instinctively shifted towards him, letting him pull you in this time, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and tucking you against his side.

It felt exactly the same, and somehow it made everything worse.

He let out a long breath, like just having you against him made all his worries disappear, meanwhile the feeling of his skin against yours was making your heart break more and more.

You sank into him despite yourself, your head resting against his shoulder, his warmth seeping into you like it always did.  His chin brushed lightly over the top of your head as he settled in, his hold tightening a fraction.

“I’m gonna miss you,” he admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now. Your chest constricted painfully.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You whispered, and at least that part wasn’t a lie. Sure, he was only going to be gone for four days, but after having him in your apartment every day for the last week, it was definitely going to be hard.

He huffed out a soft laugh under his breath. “Four days,” he said, like he was reassuring himself. “That’s nothing. At least that’s I’m going to tell myself.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t bring yourself to.

Four days. It shouldn’t have felt like a countdown, but it did. Four days meant distance. Four days meant space. Four days meant time for everything you hadn’t said to sit and rot between you.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself, holding on just a little tighter than necessary. “Yeah,” you murmured. “Nothing.”’

He left earlier than you wanted him to that night. Or maybe it just felt that way because you knew it was coming.

The two of you had turned off the TV at some point and were both laying together on the couch, just like you’d done a thousand times before. You were both just staring at each other, words murmured no louder than whisper, soft kisses exchanged around quiet laughs.

The clock had barely passed midnight when he shifted beside you, letting out a quiet sigh as he reached for his phone.

“I should probably head out,” he said, glancing at the screen. “Early flight.” Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hand reaching out to catch his wrist lightly.

“Already?” you pouted.

He looked at you then, something in his expression softening immediately.

“Hey,” he whispered, dropping his phone onto the couch and lacing his fingers through yours. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll call you when I land, yeah?

You nodded even though the knot in your chest pulled tight. “Yeah. Okay.”

He planted a soft kiss to your forehead and untangled himself from you, sliding off the couch and taking you with him as he stood. You walked him quietly to the front door, watching him slip on his shoes, grab his keys from the side table, throw his hoodie on over his head.

For a second, neither of you moved. You both just stood there in the dim light of the front foyer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that if you leaned forward just a little bit, you’d be pressed against him again and you wouldn’t let him go.

Your breath caught mid thought.

Say something!

Now!

Before he walks out the door!

Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The moment stretched and you could already see the way it would break, the way everything would shift the second the truth left your mouth.

You couldn’t do it. Not like this. Not right before he left. Not when things were finally…

Your chest closed in on itself.

“Hey,” Jeongin said softly, his hand coming up to cup your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Where did you go?”

You blinked a couple of times, forcing yourself back into the moment, back to him. “I’m here,” you whispered, breath shaky.

You felt his eyes search your face for a second, like he didn’t fully believe you, but then his expression softened impossibly more, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek.

“You take care of yourself while I’m gone.” He said quietly, though it felt like he was scolding you. Like he knew you were struggling. The guilt twisted deeper.

“Don’t worry, Innie. I will.”

You didn’t know if it was another lie or a promise you weren’t sure you could keep. He leaned in anyways, closing the distance slowly, giving you more than enough time to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips met yours, gentle and familiar. It wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate, just steady and secured, like something meant to last.

Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt again, holding him there for just a second longer than necessary. You felt like you needed to memorize it, memorize him.

The way he felt. The way he kissed you. The way he always stayed.

When he pulled back, your breath felt uneven, your chest too tight, your thoughts too loud.

“I’ll text you,” he murmured. “Get some sleep, okay baby?

“Okay.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was waiting for you to say something. Like he was waiting for you to stop him the way you always playfully did when he left for work. Your throat closed and you said nothing. Again.

Eventually, he nodded to himself, stepped back, your fingers slipping from him as the distance finally settled between you.

“I’ll see you soon.” He winked.

You forced a smile.

“Soon.”

And just like that, he was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and the silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing in from all sides as you stood there, unmoving, staring at the door like it might open again. It didn’t.

Your arms wrapped around yourself slowly, your breathing leaving you in a quiet, uneven exhale as everything you had been holding back came rushing in all at once.

The guilt. The shame. The truth you didn’t say. It sat deep in your chest, heavier now that he wasn’t there to soften it. It was sharper now that there was nothing left to distract you from it. You should have told him. You knew you should have. And now, it was too late.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you mentally scolded yourself, fingers curling into your sleeves as your shoulders tensed. The worst part wasn’t just what you did. It wasn’t just what you were hiding. It wasn’t even what would happen when he found out.

It was the warmth, the easy closeness, the quiet kind of happiness that you’ve just spent the last week basking in. It was the fact that this was now something you were about to lose, and you weren’t even sure you deserved to keep it.

Jeongin’s POV.

Being back in Paris felt refreshing in a way Jeongin hadn’t expected.

The tour was over, fashion week had wrapped, and for the first time in what felt like months, there wasn’t a suffocating schedule looming over his head the second he woke up. No early morning practices, no vocal lessons that stretched late into the night, no last-minute studio sessions that stole what little rest he could get. Just four days.

Four days where he could just breathe, exist, and pretend, even just a little, that his life wasn’t constantly moving at a pace he could barely keep up with.

Well… four days, and the ambassador shoot.

It wasn’t exactly a vacation, but it was close enough.

He was here with Chan for the shoot, something about representing a new luxury brand together, while Hyunjin had his own campaign with Versace and Seungmin was attending a Burberry event.

The schedules were different, scattered across the city, but at least they had all travelled together and ended up in the same hotel, thanks to Skzigi. There was something grounding about knowing that even in a different country, in a city as overwhelming as Paris, he wasn’t alone.

Still, despite all of that, his thoughts kept drifting back to you, wishing you were with him. He knew it wasn’t fair. This was work, not some romantic getaway, and yet the idea had rooted itself so deeply in his mind that he couldn’t seem to shake it.

Paris had always been that place to him—the place people went when they were in love, when their relationships were secured and safe and worth celebrating. And now that he had that with you, now that things between you two had finally settled into something real, something he found himself holding onto a little tighter every day, he couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you here with him.

He had thought about it more times than he cared to admit.

He would book a room somewhere quiet and beautiful, somewhere with warm lighting and big windows that overlooked the city. Not something overly extravagant, but something that felt intimate and romantic, like a space meant just for the two of you.

You’d spend your days wandering without a plan, ducking into small bakeries tucked between narrow streets, sitting in old cafes where the tables were too close together and the coffee was just a little too strong. He’d take your hand and walk with you along the Seine, listening to you talk about nothing and everything all at once, memorizing the way your voice sounded in a place like this.

Maybe he’d plan something more. Something you wouldn’t expect.

A private boat ride, or something ridiculous like a hot air ballon just to see the way your face lit up. And then at night, he’d take you out somewhere nice, somewhere quiet where the food is good and the vibes were romantic, before bringing you back to the hotel and making love to you all night.

God, he loved making love to you.

And on the last night, he’d take you up the Eiffel Tower, just like every cliché he used to roll his eyes at. He’d kiss you there anyways, under the lights, with the entire city stretched out beneath you, because suddenly, those cliches didn’t feel stupid anymore. They felt like something he wanted.

Maybe not now, but soon.

“There’s a pizza place I tried out last time I was here,” Seungmin’s voice cut through his thoughts, casual and light as he sprawled across Chan’s bed. “It’s actually really good. We could go out.”

“I was just going to order room service,” Chan replied, dragging a hand through his long hair with a tired smile. “I don’t feel like leaving again.”

“I’m down for pizza,” Hyunjin added from the couch, his attention still fixed on the documentary playing on the TV. It was something old and slow-paced that none of them had bothered to change after losing the remote.

Seungmin shifted just enough to glance over at Jeongin. “Hey, loser. You want pizza?”

Jeongin didn’t look up right away. His thumb hovered over his phone screen, his eyes scanning over the same few messages like they might change if he stared long enough.

“Yeah,” he muttered after a second, barely lifting his hand in half-hearted wave. “Whatever.” The response came out flat and distracted, because something wasn’t right.

He had felt it the night before when he said goodbye to you. It had been subtle—easy to brush off in the moment—but it had settled somewhere deep in his chest and refused to leave. He told himself it was just your anxiety. You always got a little quieter when he had to leave, a little clingier, like you were trying to hold onto the time you had left together.

It was cute, and he couldn’t deny how much he adored it, but this felt different. Now that he was here, miles away from you, he expected that feeling to ease, but it hadn’t. If anything, it had only gotten worse.

His eyes flickered back to the phone.

Jeongin: You doing okay, Princess? You: Yeah, I’m alright. Jeongin: You up for a video call later? I miss you already <3 You: Yeah. Sure. Jeongin: Are you sure you’re alright?”

He stared at the screen, his thumb hovering just above the keyboard waiting semi-patiently. He watched the typing bubbles appear. Then they disappeared. Then they came back again. Then they disappeared again.

His stomach twisted.

You: I’m fine. Just getting  ready for work. Text later.

That was it. No softness, no reassurance, no “I miss you too”. Nothing that sounded like you.

Jeongin leaned back in his chair dragging a hand down his face as a quiet sigh slipped past his lips. His legs started bouncing before he even realized it, the restless movement betraying the unease settling deeper into his chest.

“You okay over there?” Hyunjin asked, finally looking away from the TV.

Jeongin forced a small nod, though even he could hear how off he sounded when he answered. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“That didn’t sound very convincing,” Chan added, glancing over at him.

Jeongin shrugged in response, crossing his arms over his chest as he sank further into the chair, like he could fold himself in enough to hide what he was feeling. He was trying to rationalize it.

You were busy. You were at work, what with Seoul being eight hours ahead of Paris. You had your own life outside him. It didn’t mean anything was wrong. So why did if feel like it was?

He turned his attention to the TV, pretending to watch whatever was playing, but the voices blurred together into meaningless noise. He would still feel the others glancing at him every so often, could still feel the weight of their attention pressing against him until it became impossible to ignore.

Finally, he let out a quiet breath and looked at them.

“What?” he asked, the question coming out sharper than he intended.

Seungmin sat up slightly, his expression shifting into something more observant. “What’s going on, Innie?”

Jeongin hesitated. Part of him wanted to brush it off, laugh it away, pretend he wasn’t sitting here overthinking a handful of texts like it actually meant something. But another part of him, the quiet and more honest part, didn’t know what to do with the feeling sitting in his chest.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s fine,” Hyunjin added, nudging his foot lightly against Jeongins. There was a long pause before he let out another hard sigh and just decided, fuck it.

“It’s Y/n.”

The words came out quieter than he wanted them to, fingers moving absentmindedly. He was twisting one of your hair ties around his wrist. It was something he had taken from your bathroom without thinking and didn’t even remember he had it until now.

It was supposed to be grounding. It was anything but.

He glanced up, his eyes landing on Chan almost instinctively. “Did she seem off to you the other day when you stopped by?”

For a split second, Chan stilled. It was so subtle that Jeongin almost missed it, and it made something small poke him in the gut.

He watched as Chan’s fingers, which had been loosely curling around the edge of his phone, tightened just slightly before he forced himself to relax, shoulders rolling back as if shaking something off. His expression stayed neutral, composed in that practiced way he had perfected over the years, but there was something just beneath it.

“Not really,” Chan replied after a beat, his tone too light. ”Why?”

Jeongin frowned, shifting in his seat. He slipped the hair tie back onto his wrist and opted for toying with a loose thread on the arm of the chair, tugging at it without thinking as he tried to make sense of the unease curling in his chest.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, glancing down at his phone again even though the screen hadn’t changed. “She’s just been… weird. It’s almost like she’s somewhere else even when she’s right in front of me.”

Chan hummed softly, leaning back against the couch, one arm stretching across the backrest like he was settling into something comfortable, but his eyes didn’t quiet meet Jeongins.

“Probably just tired,” he said. “You know how she gets when she’s overthinking things.”

The answer should’ve been enough for him, it should’ve reassured him, should’ve settled something in his chest. But it didn’t. If anything, it made that tight, restless feeling twist a little deeper.

Chan always noticed things like that. He was the first to pick up on shifts, on moods, on the smallest changes in the people he cared about. It was one of the things Jeongin trusted most about him. So, if something was wrong, why did it feel like he was just brushing it off?

Jeongin studied him for a second longer, eyes narrowing just slightly, as if he was trying to read between the lines, but Chan had already looked away, attention drifting back to the TV like the conversation had ended before it really began.

And just like that, the moment slipped. Jeongin exhaled quietly through his nose, leaning back into the chair as he forced himself to let it go for now. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe this was just his own anxiety talking, twisting something small into something bigger than it needed to be. It sure as hell wouldn’t be the first time.

Still, his grip tightened slightly around his phone as he stared down at your messages, his thumb continuing the hovering it had done earlier like he was debating whether or not to type something else.

He didn’t. Instead, he just locked the screen and let his head fall back, eyes closing for just a second longer than necessary.

“Don’t sweat it,” Hyunjin waved his hand off with a smile. “She’s your best friend. You know how she is. Work is probably just getting to her.”

Another pain dug its way into this chest. He hadn’t told them about you yet, about what’s happened the last four days, and it was then that he realized Chan hadn’t said anything either, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful for that or not.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He mumbled, though something still gnawed at him.

“You don’t think she’s hiding from you because she went back to that guy again, do you?”

Seungmins words cut through the room so abruptly that Jeongin physically stilled, the air catching somewhere between his lungs and his throat. The mention of him, that guy, made something sharp twist in his chest, an immediate, visceral reaction he couldn’t quite suppress no matter how hard he tried to play it off. His fingers curled slightly against his arm, nails pressing into his skin as he tried to ground himself.

For some reason his gaze landed on Chan. It was only for a brief second, but it was enough to catch the way Chan’s shoulders had gone just a little too rigid, the subtle tension that passed through him like a ripple before it disappeared just as quickly.

Jeongin frowned, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Instead, he shot Seungmin a sharp glare, a warning behind his eyes, but Seungmin only raised his hands in mock surrender, completely unbothered.

Jeongin exhaled slowly through his nose, jaw tightening as he forced himself to stay calm, to not let the mention of that guy dig any deeper than it already had.

“She isn’t seeing him anymore. Trust me.” He said, his voice low, and a little too controlled. There was an edge to it he couldn’t quite smooth out, tension coiling beneath every word despite his effort to keep things light.

Seungmin didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push either. Instead, he just hummed and glanced down at his phone again.

“I’m just saying,” he sing-songed, tone far too casual for the weight of the topic. He barely paused before his brows furrowed together in annoyance. “So, it looks like the pizza isn’t available for delivery, so I’m going to head out and grab it. It’s just a few blocks away.  You guys coming?” he looked up again, glancing between the others.

“I’ll join,” Hyunjin said almost immediately, pushing himself up from the couch with a stretch, arms raised high above his head until his back arched slightly. “Been sitting too long. Need to move before I turned into a piece of furniture.”

Jeongin shook his head before the question could even fully settle in the air. “I’m good,” me muttered, already sinking further into himself, into the chair, into the weight pressing against his chest.

Chan declined too, and as small as it was, that worked in Jeongins favor, because there was something he’d been wanting to ask.

Seungmin and Hyunjin moved around the room, grabbing their jackets, slipping on their shows, their chatter filling the space in a way that felt distant to Jeongin, like he was only half-present for it. The door opened, then closed, and just like that, the room fell quiet.

“Be safe!” Chan called after them.

The silence that followed stretched. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it wasn’t entirely relaxed either. It sat somewhere in between, filled with unspoken things and half-formed thoughts.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

Chan got up to answer it, and the moment the door opened, the smell of food drifted in, warm and rich and suddenly overwhelming. Jeongin’s stomach reacted instantly, a low, traitorous growl breaking the quiet, but the hunger didn’t quite reach him fully. It stayed distant, dulled by everything else crowding his mind.

He watched as Chan thanked the staff, took the tray, and then shut the door again. He stayed quiet as Chan settled back onto the couch, pulling the small table closer, unwrapping containers with ease.

“Want some?” Chan asked, glancing over.

Jeongin shook his head without thinking. “I’m good.”

Except he wasn’t. Not really. But food felt like the least important thing right now.

The documentary continued to play in the background, filling the space with voices neither of them were really paying attention to. Jeongin pulled his phone back out, scrolling aimlessly, eyes moving over the screen without actually absorbing anything.

Across from him, Chan ate quietly, the soft sounds of utensils and packaging blending into the background noise. Time passed like that, slow and uneventful to a point where it was almost peaceful if not for the persistent unease sitting in Jeongin’s chest.

Not too long after Chan started eating, his phone lit up, vibrating against his chest He jumped in surprise. It was a text from you. The notification was small, but it might as well have been the only thing in the room.

You: I love you <3

The words hit him instantly, warm and soft and familiar in a way that made something inside him loosen. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension easing just a fraction as a small smile tugged at his lips.

There it is. There you are.

For a moment, everything felt manageable again, but even as that warmth settled in, it didn’t quite erase the lingering feeling from earlier. It didn’t stop the doubt, only softened it, and maybe that was enough to give him the courage to ask what had been sitting on his tongue all night.

Jeongin: I love you too, baby <3

“Hey, Channie?” He glanced up, his gaze landing on his Hyung.

“Yeah? “ Chan asked, his eyes not looking away from the screen.

Jeongin hesitated for half a second, thumb brushing absently against the edge of his phone.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone about the other day?”

Chan shrugged easily, like the question didn’t carry any weight at all.

“Wasn’t my secret to tell.”

The answer was simple, but something about it made Jeongin’s jaw tighten slightly, a faint irritation sparking under his skin.

“It’s not really a secret,” he muttered. Chan just shrugged again.

“Either way, it wasn’t my place to say anything.”

There was a small pause, the documentary filling the gap between them. Jeongin almost felt awkward sitting there with Chan which was something he hadn’t experienced for a long time. It was unsettling.

“What exactly is going on with you two?” Chan asked after the moment of silence.

Jeongin’s breath caught in his throat, his mind flashing to that moment. The doorway, the way Chan had seen everything. The marks, the proximity, the undeniable truth of it all laid bare without explanation.

Heat crept slowly up Jeongins neck.

“We slept together,” he said.

The words came out quicker than he intended, more blunt than planned, but once they were out there, he didn’t take them back. Maybe it was defensive, maybe it was instinct, maybe it was something else entirely.

Chan let out a quiet, humorless huff of air.

“Yeah,” he said dryly. “I gathered that much.”

Jeongin swallowed hard, forcing himself to hold his ground. Against what, he didn’t know. But he felt the need to defend himself and his relationship with you anyways.

“We’re together.” He said, his voice firmer and more certain this time. He watched Chan carefully, and the reaction he got wasn’t what he expected.

He watched Chan’s jaw tighten. It wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough for something inside Jeongin to dip, that small flicker of excitement he’d been holding onto dimming just a little.

He thought that out of everyone, Chan would be the most happy for him, and realizing he wasn’t made Jeongin’s heart crack ever so slightly.

“Kind of thought you’d be happy for me,” he admitted, a small, awkward smile pulling at his lips despite the heaviness settling in his chest.

“I am,” Chan replied quickly. “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. You know how important it is to keep this part of your life hidden.”

And just like that, the rest of the warmth faded, the joy washed out. It was replaced with something sharper. He felt it immediately. That prick of annoyance, that familiar frustration bubbling up under his skin.

He wasn’t a kid. He wasn’t reckless. He knew the rules, the risks, the consequences. He didn’t need a lecture, he needed his friend.

“I know,” He said, the words slipped out through clenched teeth despite his effort to stay composed. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Good.”

Chans attention returned to the TV as if the conversation already ended for him. Jeongin stared at him for a second longer before looking away, something in his chest sinking heavily.

He hadn’t expected a celebration, but he had expected…something. Maybe a little more than that. Because after pining after you for so long, after gushing about you to his friends, his leader, for years, you’d think they would be some sort of happiness given to him. He got the girl, wasn’t that worth celebrating? But instead, he got nothing.

His grip tightened slightly around his phone before he exhaled slowly, leaning back into the chair, eyes drifting back to the screen once more without really seeing it.

I’m probably just being dramatic.

Again.

The rest of the night unfolded in a way that should have been easy to remember, but somehow it wasn’t. Seungmin and Hyunjin came back not long after, the sound of their voices echoing down the hallway before the door even opened. The smell of pizza filled the room almost instantly. Hyunjin was already talking about something—some story about a designer he met earlier — while Seungmin kicked the door shut behind him with his heel.

Normally, Jeongin would’ve been right there with them, laughing, teasing, stealing slices straight from the box before anyone else could grab one. But tonight, he stayed where he was, tucked into the corner of the chair, offering a small smile when Seungmin shove a slice in his direction.

“Eat,” he muttered, not unkindly.

Jeongin took it without argument, more out of habit than hunger. The cheese stretched as he pulled it away, the heat warming his fingers, but when he took a bite, he barely tasted it. His attention drifted again, slipping away from the room and back to you without permission.

Across from him, Chan laughed at something Hyunjin said, but it sounded distant and muted, like Jeongin was stuck in a bubble. He swallowed, forcing himself to chew. It smelled delicious, but it tasted like cardboard, only because his mind was elsewhere. He felt like he was trying to hold onto something that was slipping through his fingers and he didn’t even know what.

At some point, Seungmin found the remote wedged beneath the mattress, holding it up triumphantly like he’d just uncovered buried treasure. Hyunjin immediately switched the channel, replacing the documentary with some old cartoon, the bright colors flashing across the screen as the animated voices filled the room.

It should’ve been enough to pull him back in, and usually, it would’ve been.

But even as he watched, even as he let out a quiet huff of laughter when Hyunjin mimicked one of the characters too perfectly, the feeling didn’t leave. It sat heavy in his chest, coiled tight, refusing to loosen no matter how normal everything around him felt.

He made the mistake of checking his phone again, and wasn’t surprised when nothing showed on the lockscreen, but it still made him falter. He debated whether to send something, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, didn’t want to seem desperate, didn’t want to push if you just needed space.

He didn’t think it was possible to be his clingy, but here he was. It almost made him laugh.

He locked his phone and leaned back, exhaling slowly through his nose.  Eventually, Hyunjin stretched, groaning softly as he pushed himself off the couch.

“I’m calling it,” he announced, running a hand through his hair. “I have an early call time tomorrow.”

Seungmin barely looked up from his phone. “You always have an early call time.”

“Yeah, and I always make the mistake of ignoring it. I’m gonna’ lose this ambassadorship at this rate,” Hyunjin shot back with a grin before slipping his shoes on.

Chan let out a snort. “Yeah, like Donatella would ever get rid of you.”

Hyunjin smirked, his eyes knowing as he grabbed his jacket from the closet. He cracked a joke, but Jeongin wasn’t paying enough attention to it. He just heard the door close behind him, and then the room settled.

A few minutes later, after a comfortable silence, Seungmin and Chan decided to go live, shifting the energy again. The two of them moved closer together, setting things up, joking under their breath as they brought out their work phones and adjusted the lighting.

Jeongin watched for a moment, the familiar rhythm of it all tugging at him. Normally, he would join without hesitation, but tonight, he didn’t.

“I’m going to head out,” he muttered, pushing himself up from the couch.

Chan glanced over briefly, something unreadable flickering in his eyes before he nodded.

“Get some rest.”

Jeongin nodded back, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes before slipping out of the room.

The quiet of his own hotel room hit different. It wasn’t loud like the others, it didn’t carry the echo of laughter or overlapping voices. It was just still and too quiet.

He exhaled slowly as the door clicked shut behind him, running a hand through his hair before dropping onto the edge of the bed. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at nothing, letting the silence settle around him.

Then his phone buzzed, your name lit up the screen, and just like that everything in his chest shifted.

He answered immediately. Because of course he did. He had no problem admitting he was a simp for you.

And seeing your face on the screen did something to him. The tension in his shoulders eased, his chest loosening as a smile finally broke through, for real this time.

“There you are.” He murmured, his voice soft in a way that the boys would never let him live down if they ever heard it. “What time is it there?”

You smiled back, and everything felt normal again. You had your hair up in a ponytail, one of his shirts hanging off your frame, tucked into a pair of tights. A cup of coffee sat beside the camera and you were eating a bowl of your favourite cereal.

“Almost nine.” You commented around a mouthful. Jeongin watched you in awe, falling back into the bed. He maneuvered himself so he was laying on his stomach, his phone propped against the pillow. “Seoul is like, eight hours ahead of you guys.”

He let out a laugh, and then you two got lost in conversation.

You talked about your morning, your work, about nothing and everything all at once. Your laughter came easier now, filling the space between you, so much so that it made Jeongins chest burn bright with happiness.

He missed this. He missed you. He knew it had only been twenty-four hours since he last saw you, but he didn’t care. He loved you too much to ever care about how clingy and needy he was being. After spending the day in a constant state of unease, he craved your smile.

As the conversation stretched on, hours slipped by unnoticed, and he let himself believe that everything was okay. He knew he had been overthinking, that the distance was playing tricks on him. The honeymoon stage was still fresh, that was how he excused it. You two were still in that phase where you never wanted to be separated for even a second.

And then, it came. Too soon. Sooner than he wanted. The end of the conversation, the yawn he couldn’t hold off anymore. You were working, your fingers tapping away on your laptop, and the sound of the keyboard was soothing enough to make Jeongin feel like he could fall asleep just listening to it.

“You should sleep,” your voice came through the speaker, soft and gentle, like you didn’t want to wake him up at all.  “It’s almost four where you are, you dork.”

Jeongin nodded, even though he didn’t want to.

“Yeah, I know.”

Neither of you hung up right away. You both just sat there, looking at each other through the screen, like you were both holding onto each other.

“I love you,” he finally said, the words coming out easily, like loving you was his life’s purpose. The smile you sent back to him was devastating, and the thanked the world he was already laying down or his knees would’ve buckled.

“I love you, too, Innie.”

And there it was again. The shift. It was subtle, barely there, but he noticed it too easily.  He liked to think it was because he knew you too well, but he knew it was probably because in the back of his mind, he was expecting it.

Your smile lingered, but your eyes didn’t quite follow. There was something just beneath the surface, something dimmed and distant. Like you were there, but not completely. Like you were present, but also far away in a different land.

His chest tightened hard, the feeling coming back sharper and heavier. It was wrong. Something was wrong. But, he forced a smile anyways, nodding like he believed you.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, Handsome.”

The call ended, and just like that, the room fell silent again.

Jeongin stared at the dark screen for a long moment, his reflection staring back at him. The warmth from earlier faded quickly, replaced by something cold as stone.

Because no matter how much he wanted to believe you, no matter how normal you tried to act, he knew something wasn’t right.

And whatever it was, you were refusing to tell him.

Jeongin's POV

The next day, Paris felt brighter.

The sky stretched wide and clear above him, pale blue bleeding into soft gold as the morning settled into early afternoon. The streets were alive in that effortless, European way. People spilling out of cafes, chairs scraping softly against pavement, laughter drifting through the air.

Jeongin walked alongside Seungmin with a small paper bag looped around his wrist, the handles twisting slightly every time his fingers flexed. Inside, there was a sweater. It was soft, neutral in tone, something you’d absolutely steal from him the second he wore it, and he was going to let you without question. He had seen it in the window and didn’t even hesitate.

Now, every few steps, his thumb brushed against the edge of the bag like he needed to remind himself it was still there. So much so that Seungmin noticed and glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, lips twitching slightly.

“You’ve checked that bag like five times already. I don’t think it’s going anywhere.” He teased.

Jeongin huffed quietly, side-stepping a family waiting to get into a small restaurant. “I have not.”

“You literally just did it again.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it this time. He just adjusted his grip on the handles before shoving his free hand into the pocket of his jacket.

They had been in and out of stores all morning. Small boutiques tucked between larger designer fronts; small coffee shops squeezed into corners that smelled like fresh bread and espresso. Seungmin had made commentary on everything, from overpriced jackets to questionable fashion choices, while Jeongin nodded along, half-present and half-somewhere else entirely.

He tried to be present. He really did. He laughed when Seungmin dragged him into a shop just to make him try on something ridiculous. He shoved him lightly when Seungmin made a comment about his shoes. He even teased Seungmin back, easy and familiar, slipping into the rhythm they always had.

But it never lasted long; eventually his mind circled back to you.

By the time they settled into a small cafe for lunch, the noise of the city had dulled. The atmosphere of the coffee shop offered something softer than the hustle and bustle of weekend buzz.

There was gentle chatter in French, the clinking of cutlery against ceramic plates, the low hum of music bleeding through the overhead speakers. It should have been grounding, something to pull him out of his own head. But instead, it only made everything feel further away, like he was watching the moment happen from just outside of it.

Seungmin, on the other hand, looked completely at ease.

He sat across from him with one leg crossed over the other, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, lazily stirring his iced coffee like he didn’t have a single thought in his head. Every now and then, he’d glance around, people watching with mild interest, like this was just another afternoon and not the first real break they’d had in weeks.

Jeongin wished he could feel like that. Instead, he found himself staring down at his plate, pushing his food around more than actually eating it.

Seungmin noticed, but didn’t comment on it right away. He let it go for a while, long enough to take a bite of his own food, long enough to sip his drink and pretend he wasn’t watching Jeongin spiral in real time. But eventually, he sighed, setting his fork down with a soft clink.

“So,” he started casually, though there was nothing casual about the way his eyes flicked up, sharp and ever-observant. “How is Y/n doing? Have you talked to her?”

Jeongin didn’t answer right away. His fingers twitched slightly around his fork before he set it down, exhaling quietly through his nose as he leaned back in his chair. His gaze drifted toward the window beside them, watching people pass by on the streets like he might find the answer out there somehow.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment of silence, voice quieter than he intended. “I talked to her last night.”

Seungmin hummed, leaning forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “And?”

Another soft humorless breath left Jeongins mouth.

“And I don’t know.” He admitted, dragging his hand through his hair, the strands falling messily back into place. “We were on video call for hours. Everything felt fine, and she was laughing and smiling and talking like she always does. But I could tell something was off.”

Seungmin tilted his head slightly. “Off how?”

There was hesitation in Jeongin’s answer, because he didn’t know ‘how’. He just felt it.

“It’s hard to explain,” he breathed, glancing down at his hands. “It’s like she’s there, but not really. Like she’s thinking about something else the whole time. And every time I try to ask, she just brushes it off.”

He felt Seungmin studying him, and when he took a chance and glanced up at him, he saw Seungmin expression shifting. It wasn’t teasing, not sarcastic, but surprisingly thoughtful. He looked back down at his napkin, bracing himself for whatever Seungmin was going to say next, but he wasn’t expecting this.

“Are you sure it’s not about that guy?” he asked carefully.

Jeongins head snapped back up, his expression hardening. His answer was instant.

“Yes, I’m sure Seung.”

“Well, I’m only asking because—”

“We’re dating.”

The words came out before he could stop them, and they hung there, sharp and sudden, cutting through the noise of the café like everything else had fallen away. Seungmin just blinked, eyebrows shooting up, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that he fought down.

“Wait,” he slowly shifted, sitting up straighter. “Wait, what?”

Jeongin swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how exposed he felt. He didn’t know if this was how he was supposed to tell them. He didn’t even talk to you about it first, just like you guys planned. You were going to tell everyone together, after he got back from the trip. But just the mention of that other guy made him feel protective, like he didn’t want even the idea to taint what you two had.

“We’re dating,” he repeated, quieter this time.

Seungmin stared at him again. Jeongin peeked up at him and watched him blink once, twice, three times. And then—

“Are you serious right now?” he leaned forward abruptly, a grin breaking across his face, eyes lighting up with something dangerously close to pride. “Since when?”

The reaction hit Jeongin a little slower than it should’ve, like his brain needed a second to catch up to the fact that someone was actually happy for him out loud.

It wasn’t even the question that mattered. It was the way Seungmin asked it. He asked like it was obvious that this was something worth celebrating, like it made sense that Jeongin and you together was something good instead of something complicated.

This was the reaction I wished I had gotten with Chan.

Jeongin felt something in his chest bloom before he could stop it. A small, almost disbelieving laugh slipped out of him as he looked down at his plate, tugging at his earlobe in that familiar, absent way he always did when he didn’t quite know what to do with his emotion.

“Since Saturday,” he admitted. He winced as he watched Seungmins smile grow impossibly wider.

“Wait, it’s been a week?” Seungmins voice pitched up before he quickly lowered it again, glancing around like he’d just remembered where they were. “You’ve been dating for a week and you didn’t say anything?”

Jeongin held back a comment about Seungmin spending too much time with Hyunjin because of his dramatics. Instead, he just shrugged and took a deep breath.

“We wanted to keep it to ourselves for a bit,” he mumbled. “Just to enjoy it before everyone started making a big deal out of it.”

Seungmin scoffed and leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, I am absolutely making a big deal out of this.” He said immediately. “Do you guys have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for one of you idiots to finally figure it out?”

That pulled a laugh out of Jeongin deposit everything, the sound surprising even himself as it slipped past the tightness that had been sitting in his chest all morning. The fact that someone else could see it, the way you and him fit together without needing an explanation, eased something in him, loosening that persistent knot just enough for him to breathe a little easier.

“Shut up,” he laughed, eyes squinting as a proud grin spread across his face, softer and more genuine. For a moment, the weight lifted. The doubt, the anxiety, the overthinking, it all dulled at the edges.

“No, seriously,” Seungmin went on, pointing his fork at him like he was making a formal accusation. “The tension was disgusting. Felix and I were just about ready to take matters into our own hands.”

Jeongin huffed, rolling his eyes, but he didn’t fight the smile this time. It lingered, tugging at his lips as he ducked his head slightly, suddenly a little more self-conscious under the attention.

There was a warmth settling into him now, spreading slow and steady, and for a second, he let himself believe everything was fine. That maybe he really had just been overthinking, that maybe things were still exactly what he wanted them to be.

But the feeling didn’t last. Because the moment his mind drifted back to your texts, to your voice the night before, to that look in your eyes that hadn’t quite matched your smile, the warmth started to thin. It unraveled at the edges as something colder slipped back in to take its place.

His fingers tightened slightly around his fork, the metal pressing faintly into his skin as his gaze dropped to his plate, appetite fading just as quickly as that moment of comfort had come.

Seungmin watched him carefully, the earlier amusement fading into something quieter, more observant.

“So, if things are good,” he said slowly, tilting his head just enough to catch Jeongins eye, “then why do you look so heartbroken?”

The question landed soft in Jeongins ears, but it still hit exactly where it needed to. Jeongin let out a quiet breath through his nose, his gaze dropping to the table almost immediately.

He didn’t want to be seen, didn’t want to admit how much that question actually hit him. Because nothing had ended, nothing had been said, but somehow, it felt like everything was already slipping away from him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a minute, his voice quiet and drained. His fingers curled loosely around the edge of the table, thumb tapping absently against the surface. “That’s what’s messing with me. I don’t know what changed.”

Seungmin didn’t interrupt this time. He just leaned back slightly, giving him the space to keep going.

“She told me she loved me,” Jeongin continued, the words coming easier now that he’d started. “Actually, she told me she was in love with me. And she wasn’t joking, wasn’t just casually throwing it around. She meant it.”

Seungmins brows lifted slightly.

“And?”

“And you know as well as I do I’ve been in love with her for years now, Seung.” He glanced up briefly before looking away again. “It was everything I thought it would be. It was good. But now she’s just acting like…” he trailed off, jaw tightening slightly as he tried to find the right words.

“Distant?”

Jeongin shook his head and started toying with the ring on his finger. It was one he had just bought, advertised as helping with anxiety, but even as he spun the small contraption around and around, even he had to admit it wasn’t doing a very good job. “No, not distant. She’s just off. I feel like she’s hiding something from me.”

Seungmin hummed quietly, tapping his fingers against his arm in thought as he processed the situation. This was what Jeongin loved about him. He took everything Jeongin said, processed it with that extremely intelligent mind of his, and then laid it out bare, no gimmicks, no beating around the bush, just reality.

“When did it start?” he asked.

“After Chan came by,” Jeongin didn’t hesitate to respond, having played that entire day over and over again in his mind. The answer came out faster than he expected, and the moment it did, something in the air shifted.

Seungmins expressions changed just slightly.

“Chan?” he repeated in confusion.

Jeongin let out a long sigh.

“Yeah,” he nodded, frowning ever so slightly. “He stopped by to remind me about the trip, which I thought was really weird considering we’ve been talking about it for the last two weeks. But she’s been different ever since.”

There was a long pause, long enough for Seungmin to lean forward slightly, his interest sharpening in on the information.

“Did something happen when he was there?” He asked, like he was a detective trying to get to the bottom of a case. It would’ve made Jeongon smile if it wasn’t for the anxiety in his gut. He hesitated for a second before letting out a sigh and coming clean to Seungmin about the night you spent together.

“Well,” he reached up to tug at his earlobe again. “He may or may not have caught us both half-naked at the front door so.”

Seungmin froze, expression going completely blank for half a beat, like his brain had short-circuited trying to process what he’d just heard.

“I’m sorry?” he asked slowly. Jeongin winced slightly, already regretting opening his mouth.

“Yeah, so that happened.” He responded just as slow, his ears burning at the tips.

Seungmin just stared at him for a second longer before he blinked. Then he blinked again. Then he leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face like he needed a full system reset.

“Oh my god,” he let out a breath, shaking his head. Jeongin couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or if Seungmin was just in total shock. “Okay, we’re not going to focus on that right now, but—”

“We can just—”

“No,” Seungmin interrupted Jeongins attempt at fleeing the conversation. He pointed at him like a warning. “We are absolutely coming back to that. Just, not while I’m trying to be a rational, helpful human being.”

That pulled another real laugh out of Jeongin, the tension easing just a fraction. “Rational and helpful, hey? That’s new.”

“Shut up.” Seungmin shot back, though there was a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. Then, with a small exhale, he leaned forward again, expression shifting back into something more focused. “Okay, so, Chan came over, caught you two looking like you just had—”

“Shut up.”

“—And then what happened after that?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes at him, debating whether or not he should just shut this conversation down, but his need for advice ruled that option out.  “After he left, she just kind of changed. Like someone flipped a switch.”

Seungmin nodded slowly, absorbing his words, his earlier humor fading back into thoughtfulness. He let the pieces settle into place before he spoke again, his tone steady and practical, but not harsh.

“Okay,” he said, tapping his fingers lightly on the table. “So nothing actually changed between you two. There was no fight, no weird conversation. Just awkward timing.”

Jeongin frowned slightly, but nodded. “Yeah.”

“And the only new variable,” Seungmin continued, raising his brow. “is that the old man showed up, saw something he probably didn’t need to see, and then left.”

When he put it like that, it almost sounded simple.

Jeongin let out a slow breath, leaning back in his chair, his hands come up to drag through his hair again as his thoughts rearranged themselves. The tightness in his chest didn’t disappear, but it loosened, just enough that it didn’t feel like he was suffocating anymore.

“So, you have two options here,” Seungmin went on, matter-of-fact. “You either keep spiraling and make yourself miserable over something you don’t even understand yet,”

Jeongin huffed quietly, hitting Seungmin with a pointed stare.

“Or?”

“Or you trust what you already know is real, and you talk to her properly when you get back.”

Jeongin was silent for a moment. It made sense, annoyingly so. And maybe that was why it worked, because Seungmin didn’t feed into panic, didn’t let him sit with it, he just cut to the chase and told him how it was, like he always did.

A small, almost relieved smile tugged at Jeongins lips as he exhaled, some of the weight finally easing off his shoulders. Even if Seungmin didn’t have any advice to give, it still felt good knowing he wasn’t bearing the weight of his anxieties on his own.

“Yeah,” he nodded slowly, his shoulders easing. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Seungmin waved him off immediately, like his help was nothing. To Jeongin, it was everything. The tension in his body had shifted, replaced with something lighter, something that felt a little more like himself again.

The seriousness melted away almost immediately afterwards, replaced with something far more dangerous. A slow, knowing grin spread across Seungmins mouth and it immediately put Jeongin on edge for complete different reasons.

“Wow,” the older male said, leaning back in his chair again as he crossed his arms, clearly pleased with himself. “Our little baby bread has finally grown into a man.”

Jeongin groaned instantly.

“You’re four and a half months older than me,” he pointed out.

“But you’re still the baby.” Seungmin teased.

“Fuck off,” Jeongin shot back as he flipped Seungmin the bird. Seungmin let out a small laugh in response, moving to kick Jeongin in the shin.  

“So,” he asked a second later, eyes gleaming as he tilted his head like a curious dog. “How was it?”

Jeongin hit him with another look, his face scrunching up in displeasure.

“You’re disgusting.”

Seungmin didn’t even blink. “We’re guys,” he deadpanned. “Of course we’re disgusting. Now, how was it?”

“You’re spending too much time with Hyunjin,” Jeongin muttered, shaking his head as he reached for his drink, using it as an excuse to avoid eye contact.

“You’re deflecting.” Seungmin pointed out immediately. Then he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand like he had all the time in the world. “Was it that bad?”

Jeongin scoffed, finally looking back up at him mildly offended. He moved to kick Seungmin the same way Seungmin did to him moments ago. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Well?” Seungmin pressed, completely unphased. There was a long pause before Jeongin shifted slightly in his seat. His ears started to burn, his gaze drifting down to the table as he tried, and failed, to come up with a way out of this conversation.

There wasn’t one.

He let out a slow exhale, running a hand over the back of his neck. He was no stranger to these conversations; the guys always talked about their romantic and sexual escapades, so he was used to the prying, the jokes, the need to know more. Hell, he had done the same himself after Han finally lost his virginity, but being the hot spot now definitely felt awkward. It made him feel guilty for always giving the others a hard time.

“It wasn’t bad,” he admitted. Maybe it was because it was Seungmin he was talking to, or because he was proud of himself and wanted it to be known, but he let it out anyways. “It was good. Better than good.”

Seungmin leaned in, more invested than he needed to be, but Jeongin shouldn’t have expected anything less, what with you being Jeongin’s first. Sure, he’d gone far with girls he’s met at bars or at event after-parties, but he never went all the way; not the way he did with you.

“It was…” he trailed off for a second, sitting up straighter in his chair, searching for the right word. “It was amazing.”

That got Seungmins attention in a different way. Jeongin swallowed, a faint, almost helpless smile tugging on his lips now. He lowered his gaze to the table, getting lost in the memory of the night you two shared.

Soft skin, whispered words, slow hands. It was something he would never forget.

“She’s amazing.” He added quietly.

And just like that, the teasing paused. It wasn’t gone, just softened, because there was something in his tone that wasn’t meant to be joked about.

He huffed a quiet breath, shaking his head slightly, like he didn’t even know how to explain it. “It wasn’t just—” he stopped himself, cheeks warming again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. “It just felt right. Like, I don’t know, like it was supposed to happen that way.”

Seungmin watched him for a minute, his grin still there, but less sharp. He looked like he was holding back a laugh, but his eyes sparkled with fondness.

“Wow,” he said after a beat. “You’re down bad.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes immediately, but his smile still lingered. “Fuck off.”

There was no bite behind his words, because for the first time all day, he actually felt lighter.

The conversation continued long after the food was gone. Seungmin prying for more details about Jeongin’s new-found love life, while Jeongin let himself be happy and excited and speak without judgement. Seungmin was happy for him, and it in turn, made Jeongin happy for himself. It made him want to tell the others, but he knew he needed to wait until he was home with you again before doing so.

They stayed at the table longer than they needed to, drinks half-finished, plates pushed aside, neither of them in a rush to leave. The earlier tension had softened into something easier, something familiar. Seungmins dry remarks, Jeongin’s half-hearted complaints, the kind of back and forth that always grounded him without trying.

Seungmins logic, his bluntness, the way he stripped things down to something simple and manageable, it gave Jeongin something to hold onto. Something solid enough that the ache in his chest eased, just enough that he could breathe without overthinking every inhale.

Maybe he was overreacting.  Maybe you were just stressed. Maybe things weren’t as complicated as they felt in his head, and he let himself believe that, at least for a little while.

They paid eventually, stepping back out into the outside air, the late afternoon sun dipping lower in the sky. The streets were still alive—busy, warm, filled with movement—and Seungmin immediately fell back into step beside him with ease, continuing their conversation like nothing had shifted at all.

On their way back to the hotel, they wandered. No real plan, no destination, just moving from place to place, ducking into stores, making comments they didn’t need to make, laughing at things that weren’t particularly funny but felt like they were in the moment.

By the time they made it back, the sky had darkened, the city shifting into something glowing under the evening lights. The energy from the day had worn off just enough to settle into something calmer and more subdued.

They all ended up in Chan's hotel room that night, the day relaxing into the evening. It was the kind of calm that came after a full day of moving, of talking, of pretending everything was fine. Hyunjin had returned from his shoot still half-dressed in designer clothes, complaining dramatically about how long he'd been made to stand under hot lights. Seungmin had immediately started picking him apart for it, unimpressed, while Jeongin lingered by the window, watching the city glow beneath them.

His thoughts had once again circled back to you, over and over again, like his mind refused to let it go. The lunch with Seungmin—the teasing, the laughter—it all felt distant now, dulled by the same unease that had been following him since he left Seoul.

Still, he played along. He always did.

"Hyune, you're literally wearing half a shirt," he muttered at one point, finally pulling himself away from the window to sit on the edge of the bed.

Hyunjin scoffed immediately, flipping his hair back. "It's called fashion, idiot. Look it up."

"Yeah, Innie," Seungmin deadpanned. "Get with the program."

It was enough to have Chan laughing, soft and easy, the kind of laugh that usually made Jeongin's worries disappear; because if Chan was laughing, then life wasn't so bad. But tonight, it didn't help. The laugh lingered too long in Jeongins ears. It felt off, though he couldn't figure out why. It just did.

Eventually, Chan pushed himself up from the couch, stretching his arms over his head with a quiet groan. "I'm going for a shower." He announced, already grabbing a change of clothes from his suitcase in the corner. "If my phone goes off, can someone check it? Might be dinner."

"Yeah, yeah." Seungmin waved off without looking up from his phone. "Go clean up. You stink."

Chan just rolled his eyes playfully, smacking Seungmin on the back of the head as he walked by him, a small "oops" leaving his mouth as he went. Seungmin just glared at the door as it clicked shut behind Chan, muttering dramatic curse words to himself before he turned back to his phone.

The room settled after that, Hyunjin flopping across the couch, scrolling through pictures from his shoot, occasionally turning his phone to show Seungmin something he deemed important. Seungmin responded with his usual half-hearted commentary, more focused on whatever he was reading than actually engaging.

Jeongin just sat quietly. He wasn't on his phone, he wasn't talking, he wasn't really paying attention to anything at all. He just sat there. The sound of running water filled the space, steady and consistent, blending into the background noise of the room. It was oddly calming, enough that for a breif moment, his thoughts slowed.

Then, a soft ding cut through the air and Chan's phone lit up on the table beside the couch.

The other two didn't move at all. Seungmin didn't even glance up, Hyunjin was mid-sentence about lighting angles, however, Jeongins eyes flickered towards it immediately. He didn't think about it, didn't hesitate, he just reached over, his fingers curling loosely around the device as he unlocked the screen.

"Probably Coupang," he muttered absently, more to himself than anyone else.

When he pulled down the notification center, his eyes searched for the Coupang app, trying to find out if their food had arrived or not, but something else caught his eye. It was a text message from the 3Racha group chat. Normally, he would ignore it. Everyone deserved their privacy, and he definitely wasn't one to pry, but the message itself sparked his interest.

Changbin: Have you talked to Innie yet?

The phone should have gone back down, he should've locked it and set it back on the table, but a quiet, intrusive thought slipped in before he could stop it.

Check.

He swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the edges of the phone.

Have you talked to Jeongin yet?

He knew he shouldn't. It would've crossed a line, one they never crossed with each other. Even with the kind of openness they all shared — passwords weren't exactly a secret between them anymore — this wasn't okay. But the thought didn't go away, it just got louder.

Check!

Jeongins jaw tighened.

Just one look. Just to understand. That's all.

That's what he told himself, at least.

His hand moved before he could fully talk himself out of it, thumb hovering over the screen for a fraction of a second, hesitation flickering through him. Then he opened the group chat.

Changbin: Did you talk to him yet, Channie?

It was sent earlier that morning, after Seungmin and Jeongin left for their day out on town.

Chan: no Han: you need to. Chan: I know.

Immediately, just from those four text messages, Jeongin knew something was wrong. Not the words themselves, although they weren't great either, but it was the way they sat. It was too direct, like something bigger was being talked around, not about. His eyebrows pulled together slightly as he kept reading.

Changbin: You can't keep dragging this out. Chan: I'm not dragging it out. Han: Then what are you doing?

There was a gap in the messages. Just over ten minutes, and Jeongin could practically feel it. The pause, the hesitation, the way Chan must've stared at his screen for too long before answering.

Chan: I'm waiting for the right time. Changbin: There isn't a right time for something like this.

That line made something shift inside Jeongins chest, like a piece of a puzzle slowly falling out of place. It was small, but it was enough to make his grip tighten on the phone.

Han: Does he suspect anything? Chan: I don't think so. Changbin: you don't think so? Chan: he asked about her yesterday.

This made everything in Jeongins body freeze, his breath stopping at the base of his throat. A strange feeling settled into his stomach. Not anger, not fear, just something that didn't sit right.

Han: and? Chan: I told him she seemed fine. Changbin: And you're just going to leave it at that? Chan: What do you want me to do Bin? Han: Tell him the truth.

There was another gap in the messages. Only a few minutes, but a few minutes felt like a lifetime to Jeongin right now. Hans text hit him in a way he never felt before. They felt heavy, laced with a trust that was slowly slipping. He swallowed again, eyes flicking towards the bathroom door, almost instinctively.

Chan: I will. Changbin: When? There it was again. That question. Something simple, but loaded. Chan: I'll tell him after the shoot. Han: You really think that's a good idea? Chan: No. But it's the only one I've got right now. Changbin: he's not going to take it well. Han: Of course he's not. No one would.

Jeongins heart started to beat a little bit faster, and he wasn't sure why. Nothing here said anything outright. Nothing here explained anything. And yet, his jaw tightened, brows furrowing more as he continue to read against his will.

Chan: I know. Changbin: Then stop acting like waiting is going to make it easier. Chan: I just need to figure out how to say it.

Something about that line struck Jeongin in an unpleasant way. It landed heavier than anything else in the chat, because whatever it was, it wasn't small or simple. It wasn't something you figured out how to say unless it had the power to change something. Or break something. And with the mention of Jeongins question the night before, the mention of you, made his stomach twist anxiety once more.

Han: just don't wait too long. Changbin: Yeah, because if he figures it out on his own, it's not good for either of you.

The messages stopped there. There was no follow-up, no clarification; it just stopped, like the three of them had reached the same wall and didn't know how to get past it. Changbin's new text sat just below his last, but Jeongin barely registered it now.

The sound of the shower hadn't changed. Water still hit tile in the same steady rhythm, muffled slightly by the closed door, like nothing outside of it had shifted at all. Like the world hadn't just tilted. But Jeongin could feel it under his skin.

He blinked, then slowly, like his body was remembering how to move piece by piece, he locked the phone and set it back exactly where it had been, like even the slightest difference might give him away.

No one noticed. Hyunjin was still talking, Seungmin was still half listening. It had only been a minute or two, and the room hadn't changed in the slightest, but something inside him did.

There was no immediate crash, no sharp, overwhelming realization that knocked the air from his lungs. It was worse than that. It felt like a slow unraveling, the kind that started in his chest and spread outward, subtle and suffocating, tightening around his ribs until breathing felt a little harder than it had a few minutes ago.

He leaned back slightly into the couch, hands clasped together loosely, feet digging into the carpet as if he was trying to ground himself, keep himself tether to reality, even though it wasn't really working.

After the shoot.

The words echoed, looping in the back of his mind.

Tell him the truth.

His jaw tightened again.

About what? What truth? What was going on, and why did he have this small, devastating feeling that it had something to do with you?

His thoughts tried to piece together, grasping at fragmernts that didn't quite connect. The way Chan had acted earlier, the tension he hadn't been able to name, the way you'd been distant before he left for the trip. He couldn't understand why everything seemed to feel like they were just slightly out of sync with him. Like the world knew something he didn't.

His stomach twisted so hard he thought he was going to throw up.

"—and then they made me stand there for like twenty minutes while they fixed the lighting," Hyunjin was saying, completely unaware, his voice cutting through the noise in Jeongins head. "I swear, I almost—"

"You always almost die at your shoots, Hyune" Seungmin interuppted flatly.

"I do not—"

"You literally said the same thing during fashion week."

"That was different."

Jeongin let out a quiet huff of breath that could've passed as a laugh if anyone was paying close enough attention. He was thankful they weren't, because he didn't think he could fake it properly right now.

His gaze drifted, unfocused, landing somewhere near the floor as the conversation continued around him, words blurring together into something indistinct. He caught pieces of it, tones, laughter, the rise and fall of familiar voices, but none of it really stuck. His mind was elsewhere, stuck on something he couldn't quite see yet. Something just out of reach.

After the shoot.

Why wait? Why not tell him now? His hands clenched as another thought slipped into his mind.

Unless it was something bad, something that needed to be timed properly. Something that needed to be handled and controlled like a rabid dog. His fingers curled slightly against his palms again, because if it was something small — something harmless— 3racha wouldn't be talking like that.

The bathroom door opened, making Jeongin jump slightly. Chan stepped out, hair damp, a towel draped loosely around his neck as he ran a hand through it, glancing around the room like he was reorienting himself.

"Did my phone go off?" he asked casually.

Jeongins head lifted, and for a split second, their eyes met. A feeling in Jeongins chest pulled tight. It wasn't enough to be obvious, but he felt like it was constricting him.

"No," he lied, surprising himself with how steady his voice was.

Chan nodded easily, not thinking twice about it as he reached for his phone, completely unaware of the way Jeongins gaze lingered for a fraction of a second longer than it should have.

He was watching, waiting, looking for something—anything at all— that might confirm what he'd just read. But Chan unlocked his phone, glanced at the screen, and moved on like nothing was wrong, like everything was normal, like there wasn't something sitting between them now, unspoken and unacknowledged.

Jeongin let out a low breath, swallowing hard and leaning back again. He forced himself to relax, even as that tight, suffocating feeling settled deeper inside his chest, curling around his heart. He didn't ask, didn't say anything else, didn't let his anxiety show.

But as the night carried on, the laughter returning around him, conversations overlapping, the room filling with that same energy as it always had, Jeongin still felt it. And no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was coming.

The next morning came too quickly. It felt like he hadn't really slept at all, just drifted in and out of restlessness, his mind looping the same fragments over and over again until they blurred into something that left him exhausted. By the time his alarm went off, he was already awake, staring at the ceiling, the weight in his chest heavier than it had been the night before.

After the shoot.

Tell him the truth.

The words hadn't left him. They followed him through his entire morning. Getting dressed, getting into the car, waiting outside the hotel with Chan in tow, walking into the studio.

He didn't say anything, didn't ask, didn't even look at Chan longer than necessary. He played his part as the clueless maknae, because that's obviously what he was. Clueless and out of the loop. Because if he didn't play the part, if he lingered or searched too hard, he was afraid something would show, something would slip, and he couldn't afford to let that happen in front of the cameras.

He couldn't confront it, wouldn't let it happen. Not yet, not until he understood what exactly it was that was happening around him.

The studio was too bright, with lights hanging overhead, casting everything in sharp, artificial clarity, which made it impossible to hide anywhere. Staff moved around with practiced rhythm. Stylists adjusting collars, makeup artists brushing over already-perfect skin, photographers calling out directions with easy confidence. And Jeongin slipped into it like he always did, acting like nothing was wrong. He let them fix his hair, adjust his clothes, position him exactly where they needed him. He followed instructions without question, his body moving on autopilot while his mind stayed somewhere else entirely.

He smiled when it was supposed to, laughed when it was expected, held eye contact with the camera like he meant it.

Professional, perfect, untouchable. From the outside, no one would have noticed. Not staff, not the cameras, not even the members if the rest of them were here. They were used to slipping in and out of these roles just as easily. But inside, everything was loud.

Every glance toward Chan felt heavier than it should have been. Every moment they stood side by side, every time their shoulders brushed, every quiet exchange between takes, it all felt different now. It felt tainted by something Jeongin couldn't name, but couldn't ignore either.

He kept waiting for something to confirm it, something to explain it, but nothing came. Chan acted normal. Easy smiles, casual comments, the same steady presence he'd always been.

Hours passed in a blur of outfit changes, lighting adjustments, repeated takes. The kind of day Jeongin usually enjoyed, something structured and controlled. But today it all felt endless, like he was performing twice; once for the cameras and once for everyone else.

He hit every mark, every angle, every expression they asked for with practiced ease. But underneath, something was splintering.

Every time there was a pause in the day, whether a stylist stepped in to adjust his jacket or fix his hair, his mind drifted, back to the hotel, back to Chan's phone, back to those messages that refused to settle into anything choerent.

Have you talked to Jeongin yet?

Waiting for the right time.

He's not going to take it well.

Chan never faltered for the entire day. Whether he was across the set, standing off to the side, laughing with staff and nodding along to directions, he didn't hesitate once. He was completely normal, totally composed, like nothing was wrong, like there wasn't something shifting between them that hadn't been said.

Jeongin had caught himself watching him more than once. It was subtle, quick glances he hoped no one else noticed, waiting for something. A look. A signal. Anything that said, we need to talk. But it never came.

By the time the final shot wrapped, the shift in the room was immediate. Staff relaxed, shoulders dropped, conversations softened into something more casual as people began packing up equipment. Someone clapped lightly, thanking everyone for their hardwork. A few stylists lingered, chatting, while others started wheeling racks away.

Jeongin exhaled slowly as he stepped off set, rolling the tension out of his shoulders as best as he could.

"Good job, today." One of the photographers said in passing.

"Thank you," Jeongin smiled, automatically falling into a bow. The appreciation felt hollow in his mouth, but he forced himself through it. He didn't go looking for Chan. He just stayed where he stopped, gathering his things slowly, eyes flickering up every now and then without meaning to.

Any second now, Chan would walk over, say his name, pull him aside with that quiet we need to talk tone he'd used a hundred times before. He would tell Jeongin the truth, put his mind at ease, and assure him that everything was just one big misunderstanding.

But it didn't happen. It never came, and Jeongin couldn't help but feel like this was no longer just hesitation. It was complete avoidance.

Any second now, Chan would walk over, say his name, pull him aside with that quiet we need to talk tone he'd used a hundred times before. He would tell Jeongin the truth, put his mind at ease, and assure him that everything was just one big misunderstanding.

But it didn't happen. It never came, and Jeongin couldn't help but feel like this was no longer just hesitation. It was complete avoidance.

By the time they had all settled into Chans room that night, the energy had softened into something loose and familiar, the kind that only came after long days and shared schedules and the quiet satisfaction of everything going right for once.

The air felt warmer, heavier in a comforting way, filled with the scent of take-out containers left half-opened on the table. The faint burn of alcohol sat at the back of throats, and the low hum of voices overlapped without anyone really trying to take control of the conversation.

Hyunjin had claimed the bed almost instantly, stretching himself across it like he owned it, one arm thrown lazily over his head while the other held his phone above his face. Every now and then he’d let out a quiet snort or a soft scoff, his lips twitching as something on his screen amused him. Every so often, he would shove the phone toward Seungmin, who was propped against the headboard beside him with a bottle of soju, without warning.

“Look at this,” he said, pushing himself up just enough to angle the screen in Seungmin’s direction. “Tell me this isn’t the worst outfit you’ve ever seen.”

Seungmin barely spared it a glance before leaning back against the headboard, unimpressed. “I’ve seen you dress worse.”

Hyunjin gasped like he’s just been personally offended. Jeongin just huffed a quiet laugh from where he sat in the chair off to the side, his head tilting back slightly as he watched the exchange unfold. Something warm and familiar settled into his chest at the predictability of it.

It was the same rhythm they always feel into. Hyunjin being dramatic, Seungmin being dry and deadpan, the back and forth effortless in a way that didn’t require thought. It grounded him without him even realizing it.

Hyunjins eyes flickered towards Jeongin at the sound, catching the small laugh before it faded, and something immediately shifted in his expression. Slowly, almost deliberately, a grin spread across Hyunjins face, the kind that meant trouble long before he even opened his mouth.

“Soooooo,” Hyunjin dragged out, rolling onto his side as he propped himself up on his elbow, gaze locking onto Jeongin with far too much interest. “Someone told me you had something to tell us.”

Seungmin didn’t even try to hide it this time. He didn’t look up from his phone right away, didn’t try to soften the delivery, he just spoke like it was obvious.

“Yeah,” he said simply. “Tell them, Innie.”

Jeongin just frowned, his posture shifting as he glanced between them. “Tell him what?”

Seungmin blinked up at him, slow and unimpressed, like he couldn’t believe that was even a question. “Are you serious right now?”

Hyunjin pushed himself up a little straighter, his attention snapping fully into place as he looked between the two of them, curiosity lighting up his features. “Wait, what did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Jeongin muttered, already feeling the familiar pull of wanting to deflect, to brush off before it became something bigger than it needed to be.

“Not nothing,” Seungmin corrected him immediately, not even giving him a second to escape it. Then, before Jeongin could stop him, “Our baby bread is no longer a baby. Him and Y/n are together. Finally. ”

The room went still, just for a brief second, and then Hyunjins entire body reacted at once, like the information hit him all at the same time instead of in pieces. “Wait WHAT?”

Jeongin flinched, his shoulders tensing. “Jesus, can you not yell—”

“Since when!?” Hyunjin demanded, already halfway off the bed, eyes wide and incredulous like he’d been left out of something unforgivable. ”Are you serious? Wait, no, that makes sense. Wait, no it doesn’t. Wait, when did his happen?”

Jeongin groaned, dropping his head into his hands for a second, but there was no real bite to it, no actual frustration behind the reaction. If anything, there was something else sitting just underneath, something lighter that felt suspiciously like relief mixed with embarrassment, like the words being out in the open had taken something off his shoulders.

“A little while ago,” he admitted, glancing up just enough to meet Hyunjins stare.

“How long is ‘a little while’?” Hyunjin pressed immediately, narrowing his eyes like he already knew he wasn’t going to like the answer. He settled himself on the couch right next to Jeongin, eyes scanning him wildly. Jeongin felt like he was under a microscope.

Seungmin didn’t hesitate. “Four days.”

“That’s not—”

“Saturday morning, actually.” Seungmin added, completely unfazed, like he was just clarifying the detail that mattered.

Hyunjins jaw dropped dramatically. “I knew it. I fucking knew it! When Felix told me about you two sleeping on the couch in the spare room together, I fucking knew something was going to come of it! No fucking way!.”

Jeongin scrubbed a hand over his face, the warmth creeping up his neck impossible to ignore now, but the smile tugging at his lips gave him away anyways “You’re both so annoying.”

“And you’re deflecting.” Hyunjin shot back, leaning forward again, his tone shifting just slightly into something more curious. “Did you stay over?”

Jeongin hesitated, the answer sitting right there but still catching for a second in his chest.

“…yes.”

“In the same bed?”

“…yes.”

“Not the couch.”

“No, not the couch.”

That was all Hyunjin needed. He leaned back like he’d just been hit with something, one hand dragging through his hair as a grin spread across his face, wide and disbelieving.

“Oh my god,”

“Don’t start.” Jeongin warned, though the soft laugh slipping into his voice stripped the words of any real weight.

“No, I’m starting.” Hyunjin shot back immediately. “You don’t get to just say that and then end the conversation. How was it?”

Seungmin snorted beside him, satisfied. Jeongin just shook his head, but this time he didn’t shut it down, didn’t retreat from it the way he normally would have. Instead, he exhaled slowly, leaning forward with his elbows braced on his knees, his gaze dropping to his hands for a second as if he way trying to find the right way to explain something he hadn’t fully put into words yet.

“Just, keep it normal,” he muttered.

Hyunjin leaned forward instantly. “Define normal.”

“Not weird.”

“We’re always weird.”

“That’s the problem.”

Seungmin let out a quiet laugh under his breath, but he didn’t interrupt. He just watched.

Jeongin’s fingers fidgeted together slightly as he searched for something that felt right, something that didn’t sound as simple as it had felt.

“It was…good.” He said finally. “Really, really, fucking good.”

The second the words left his mouth, he knew they weren’t enough.

Hyunjin made a face. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to give us?”

Jeongin huffed out a breath, shaking his head. “No. It’s not—” he paused exhaling slowly before trying again. “It was more than that. It was just…different.”

That caught both of their attention.

Jeongin swallowed, his gaze still lowered as he tried to explain something that didn’t feel like it belonged in words. “I wasn’t thinking about anything else,” he said after a moment. “Not work, not schedules, nothing. Just her.”

The room shifted, subtle but noticeable, like something softened in the air.

“And she—” he hesitated, his chest tightening slightly before he let the words out, quieter this time. “She made it easy. Like I didn’t have to overthink anything. It was incredible.”

Hyunjin blinked at him, the teasing easing just slightly as he leaned back again, something more thoughtful flickering across his face, “Wow,” he murmured under his breath.

Jeongin couldn’t keep the small smile off his face as he thought back to that night with you, where you let him do everything he ever wanted to, where you begged him for more, where you told him you loved him over and over again. He felt the blush darken his cheeks just thinking about.

“Oh, I know that face,” Hyunjin clicked. Jeongin felt all three of them look over at him, and he rubbed a hand over his face again. “You did it more than once, didn’t you?”

Jeongin remained quiet at that, his face twisting up into something akin to playful irritation.

“You’re so gross,” he mumbled.

“That wasn’t a no.” Hyunjin smiled, “Let me guess. Three times? Wait no, four, one for each day you were together.”

Jeongin swallowed hard and tried to keep his facial expression neutral, but Hyunjin caught onto this silence. A loud gasp left the older ones mouth.

“Wait, MORE THAN FOUR?”

“Alright, we’re done with this conversation,” Jeongin groaned, pushing Hyunjin away from him and falling back into the chair. He could

Seungmin nudged him lightly with his foot. “Told you he’s gone.”

“I’m not gone.” Jeongin protested, but the words came out weaker this time, lacking the conviction he would’ve had before. He brought his hand up to tug at his ear before he tried, and failed, to hide his smile behind his hand.

“Oh yeah, you’re so gone.” Hyunjin repeat, shaking his head with a grin that didn’t quite reach teasing anymore.

“Shut up.”  He tried again, smiling wider this time.

Somewhere in the middle of it, something settled inside him in a way he hadn’t expected, because this wasn’t just about you, not entirely. It was about this, about finally being a part of something he’d always watched from the outside, about not being the one they teased anymore. Not being the last to understand what it felt like to have something real.

On the couch, Chan hadn’t said a word. Jeongin didn’t notice it right away, not while the laughter was still bouncing around the room, not while Hyunjin was still talking over Seungmin and everything felt easy. But eventually, as the noise settled into something slower and softer, his eyes flickered over without him really meaning to.

Chan was leaning back against the couch, head tilted slightly against the cushion, his gaze fixed somewhere near the floor. He had said earlier he was just tired, but Jeongin didn’t believe it. Something about the stillness didn’t feel like exhaustion.

Jeongin’s chest tightened just slightly at the sigh, but he didn’t push it, didn’t ask, didn’t want to disrupt whatever fragile balance the room had settled into, so he let it go, let the conversation drift.

It wasn’t until later in the night did Hyunjin bring up the topic of your relationship with Jeongin again. He shifted slightly on the bed, watching Jeongin with the lingering curiosity, like he wasn’t quite done poking at things yet. A grin tugged at his lips.

“I still can’t believe our boy is no longer a virgin.” He shook his head in awe, pride shining in his eyes. Seungmin leaned over and smacked the older male on the back of the head, but before Hyunjin could complain about it, Chan cleared his throat and finally pulled his eyes away from the tv long enough to send Hyunjin a glare.

“How about we just leave it alone, yeah? Give him some privacy.”

All three of them looked at Chan with looks of concern. The thought behind his words was sweet, because Jeongin didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but the tone of Chans voice made the hairs on the back of Jeongins neck stand up.

He sounded almost… mad that the boys were still talking about Jeongins relationship, and it sparked something in Jeongins chest that was close to annoyance. Suddenly, he wanted Hyunjin to continue asking, to continue talking about it, just so he could figure out exactly what Chan was so pressed about.

Hyunjin looked at Chan now, eyes bright with amusement, like he knew he was stirring the pot and had no intention of stopping. “What’s your problem, Channie? Mad that Innie got a girl before you did?”

Seungmin huffed quietly, not even looking up from his phone. “He had his turn,” he muttered. “You forgot about last year already?”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened, snapping his fingers dramatically. “Oh right. Mystery girl! What ever happened with that? You just gonna’ pretend that didn’t exist?”

“Or are we still acting like you’re not the type to get attached?” Seungmin added, just as dry.

The memory flickered to life in Jeongins mind, and he was brought back to the night of your return to movie nights, the first time around. How the drinks had started flowing and everyone started to talk about their dating life, or lack thereof.

“You should hit her up again,” Hyunjin said, half-joking. “I’m sure she’s still into you.”

The comment earned a quiet snort from Seungmin. “With Channie, they always are.”

It was a light, teasing tone, the kind of conversation that would normally roll right off their shoulders, but something about it didn’t.

Jeongins eyes drifted without meaning to, landing on Chan, who hadn’t moved much. He was still leaning back against the couch, head tilted slightly, gaze fixed somewhere else like he hadn’t really been apart of the conversation until now.

The only different now was that his jaw was tightened, clenched hard, and a flicker of something unreadable passed across his face before he dragged a hand over the back of his neck, exhaling quietly.

“I told you guys, her and I are over.” Chan said finally, voice low and controlled. “She’s… she’s found someone else now.”

For just a second, Chan’s eyes lifted and landed on Jeongin. Not long enough to be obvious, not long enough for anyone else to catch, but long enough that Jeongin felt it.

A flicker of confusion brushed through his thoughts, something that didn’t quite sit right, but it slipped away just as quickly as it came. It didn’t make any sense, so he let it go.

With a disappointed hum, Hyunjin quickly moved on to complain about something new, while Seungmin shut him down with the same dry precision he always did. The room slowly dimmed as the lights lowered and bodies shifted into something closer to rest.

Hyunjin stretched back out across the bed again, Seungmin half-sitting beside him, scrolling aimlessly. Chan stayed where he was, unmoving, lost in thought. Jeongin leaned back into the armchair, his head tipping against the cushion, his phone loose in his hand as he let himself sink into the quiet.

For the first time all day, his chest didn’t feel tight. Maybe Seungmin was right. Maybe he was overthinking everything. Maybe everything was really fine.

But then, his phone buzzed softly in his hand, the vibration pulling him out of the moment just enough to make him glance down. His heart skipped slightly, thinking it was you, but his eyebrows pulled together slightly when he saw it was Han.

His shoulders tensed a little bit, his finger hovering over the notification. He took a deep breath before clicking on it.

Han: Hey.

The three dots appeared at the bottom of the message screen. Then they disappeared, and a moment later, another message popped up.

Han: this might be weird to say over text, but I don’t think Chan’s gonna say anything any time soon.

Something in Jeongins chest shifted, the calm relaxing state he was in slowly morphing back into unease. He sat up slightly without realizing it, his back no longer fully pressed into the chair.

Han: You should probably talk to y/n. like… soon

Jeongin stared at the message longer than he should have, the words sitting heavy in his mind as the quiet of the room now pressed around him in a way it hadn’t before.

Across from him, Chan shifted slightly on the couch, still silent, still saying nothing. And just like that, that fragile, fleeting sense of ease Jeongin had been holding onto slipped quietly through his fingers, replaced by something colder that settled deep in his stomach and refused to move.

And just like that, within the blink of an eye, nothing felt simple anymore.

Part One || Part Two ||

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[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 8.1k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< part 3 | part 5 >

on your way home, you rest your head against the window, watching the city pass by in a blur of lights and movement, people walking on the street and leaving restaurants. your body is still a little weak, but your mind is calmer than it has been all day. you keep replaying the doctor’s words in your head: 

“it’s nothing serious. the weather’s been changing a lot these days and if you’re under a lot of stress right now this is your body reacting to all of that. there’s nothing to worry about”

you had nodded your head when she said that, relief settling in slowly, even if the exhaustion hadn’t left your body yet. you would have to take your medicine and rest for a couple of days, don’t push yourself, she said. it’s simple enough.

beside you, chan glances at you every now and then, making sure you’re still okay without asking it out loud, but you notice he’s doing it.

“i told you i was fine”, you say after a while, your voice still quieter than usual.

he exhales softly through his nose, not quite amused.

“yeah”, he says, “still glad we went”

and you hum, because you don’t have the strength to argue this time.

when you finally pull up to the house, you see the lights are still on. chan steps out first, quickly walking around the car to your side.

“i’m okay”, you say when he opens the door. 

“i know”, he says, holding out his hand to help you anyway.

he helps you out carefully, his hand holding yours then going straight to your back once you let go, just in case.

“still okay?”, he asks.

“yeah”, you nod.

you walk inside together, closing the door and taking off your shoes, and the moment you get to the living room and everyone sees you, they’re on their feet.

“y/n-”

“are you okay?”

“what did the doctor say?”

“is everything fine?”

it comes all at once.

minho and seungmin are the closest, already stepping forward, their eyes scanning your face trying to see how you really feel so you won’t lie to them. lily follows right after, worry written all over her face.

“are you okay?”, she asks again, softer now that she’s closer to you.

you nod, a small smile forming on your face despite how tired you feel.

“yeah, i’m okay”, you say, “it’s nothing serious”

“what did the doctor say?”, han asks, hovering nearby.

“she said it’s just the weather, you know it’s been changing a lot recently, some days are cold, others hot”, you explain, “and… also stress”

“stress?”, yeong asks.

you shrug lightly, “makes sense, doesn’t it?”

a few of them nod slowly and seungmin exhales, some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

“did they give you anything?”, he asks you.

“yeah, medicine. and i just need to rest for a couple of days”

“then that’s what you’re gonna do”, lily says immediately.

you smile faintly and salute her, “yes, ma’am”

that gets a small laugh out of them, the tension and worry easing just a little. chan speaks then, his voice calm but clear.

“the doctor told her to take it easy. no stress, no overdoing anything”

“then she’s not doing anything for the next few days”, minho says.

you raise and eyebrow, “i feel like i just lost all control over my life”

“you did”, hae says, completely serious.

you laugh, shaking your head, “that’s fine”, you say softly.

“we made dinner”, yeong says then, gesturing towards the table, “we waited for you”

your gaze shifts to it, and you see everything is already set - plates, food, drinks, everything is ready.

“you didn’t have to wait”, you say.

“we wanted to”, she says.

you nod and then all of you walk towards the table and sit down around the table, the atmosphere calmer now but still filled with a bit of concern.

“eat a little”, lily tells you, placing food on your plate, “then you can go rest”

“are you my mum now?”, you ask her, teasing her a little and she rolls her eyes at you, but you can see she’s smiling too. 

during dinner, all of you are quieter than usual, the jokes softer and the conversation lighter, like everyone is trying not to overwhelm you. you eat slowly, listening more than talking and by the time you finish, your body feels heavier again and you’re ready to rest.

“i think i’m going to go to bed”, you say.

“yeah”, minho says, “you should”

“call us if you need anything, okay?”, lily says.

“we’re literally in the next rooms”, han says.

you smile faintly, nodding, “i will, thank you”

then, you stand up and go to your room, closing the door once you’re inside to get ready to go to bed, but once you change into your pyjamas, there’s a gentle knock on the door. you open it and see all of the girls there, lily leaning against the frame and hae and yeong just behind her.

“we came here to keep you company”, lily says.

you open the door even more, smiling at them as they come inside, “please do”

you all settle onto your bed, sitting close together.

“how are you feeling?”, yeong asks.

“better”, you say, “just tired”

“that’s good”, lily says, “you scared us”

“sorry”, you mumble, looking down before looking at them again.

“don’t apologise”, hae says quickly, shaking her head, “we know it’s… a lot”

you nod, “it is”

“what do you think so far?”, yeong asks, “about the house, and the boys and, well… everything”

you let out a quiet breath before you speak again.

“it’s… a bit overwhelming”, you admit, “it’s good but also… a lot to take in”

“yeah”, lily says, nodding, “it’s like everything is happening at once”

“yeah”, hae murmurs softly and then, her voice breaks, “i didn’t think it would be like this”, she says, her eyes glistening as she looks down at her hands.

all of you go still.

“i thought it would be easier”, she continues, her voice trembling now, “i thought i would be okay but it’s… it’s too much sometimes”

the room quiets completely and lily reaches for her immediately, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

“it’s okay”, she says.

yeong nods, moving closer to her, “yeah, we all feel like that sometimes”

you don’t hesitate, you reach out too, your hand resting gently on hae’s arm.

“it’s okay”, you say softly, “you’re not alone in this. you have us”

she lets out a shaky breath, nodding as more tears slip down her face and all of you pull her closer. you stay like that for a moments, comforting each other without needing to say much more until your phone vibrates, then yeong’s, then hae’s and finally lily’s. you all look down and see each one got a message, the same one that you get every night.

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

you sit up a little straighter, the others doing the same and no one saying anything, all of you aware of what this means now and what you’re all doing. you unlock your phone and your fingers hover over the screen.

who made your heart flutter today?

you try to think and for a second, you don’t know. your ex comes to mind first, of course he does, he always does. you think about his texts, about yours, about you reaching each other silently, your heart reacting to his texts without asking permission. but then-

you think about today, you think about chan. how much fun you had with him, how he didn’t hesitate later, how he took care of you and then made sure you were okay. you swallow slowly and before you can overthink it, you start writing.

‘thank you for taking care of me today’

you stare at it for a second and then send the message to chan and lock your phone after that but even then, your mind doesn’t settle.

was that the right choice?

you don’t know. you don’t know anything anymore. the room is still quiet, and you know each of the girls is probably dealing with the same thoughts as you. your phone beeps again and you unlock it one more time.

‘i hope you feel better tomorrow, i’m here for anything you need’

your breath catches like every night does but before you can even process it, another text appears. a text from a different person. 

‘i had a lot of fun today. i hope we can spend more time together… and that you get better soon’

your heart starts beating faster. two messages, two. you stare at the screen, your fingers tightening slightly around your phone. one of them has to be chan and the other has to be your ex. there’s no other possible answer, you’re sure of that. your phone vibrates again and you open the last text of the night.

exchange: your ex chose you

okay, you were definitely right about one of them at least. but the other has to be chan, there’s no one else you think it might be, and when you think about it again, your heart starts beating harder and louder, but had it been a bit quieter, you would have heard how loud the silence in your ex’s heart was when he got his message for the night.

exchange: your ex did not choose you

the sound of the rain outside your room wakes you up before anything else does. you blink slowly, your eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room and you just lie there, wrapped in your sheets, listening to the water falling just outside the house. your gaze drifts towards the patio doors, seeing the glass covered in small droplets, the sky beyond it grey and heavy, and the garden much quieter than usual under the rain.

you watch it for a while. long enough for your thoughts to start to wander to last night, to the texts, to your ex, to chan. your chest feels a little tight again and you shift under the sheets, staring at the ceiling now.

you could stay there, think about it more and then again and again. overthink it, like you always do, you’re a pro at that. but before that can happen, you exhale quietly and push the sheets off you.

no, not this morning. you get up, the floor cold under your feet, and you walk out the room, finding the house completely silent, and you instantly know that everybody is still sleeping. you go to the kitchen and find that it’s empty, just like you expected. you move around slowly, grabbing what you need - bread, butter, the toaster, a plate. the sound of the rain fills the space as you wait for the toasts to be ready, leaning against the counter, your mind still wandering but not as strong or sharp as it usually does. 

when the toasts pop up, you take them, spread the butter and then move to sit down at the table, pulling your legs in as you settle into the chair. you eat as you look out through the window again, watching the rain fall steadily, your thoughts drifting in and out without really settling anywhere. 

then you hear footsteps and you glance up just as seungmin enters the room. he pauses slightly when he sees you, like he hadn’t expected anyone to be there yet, then gives you a small nod.

“morning”

“morning”, you say softly.

he walks towards the table and sits down in the chair across from you, both of you now sitting there, listening to the sound of the rain.

“how are you?”, he asks, his voice calm.

“i’m better”, you say, nodding slightly, “the medicine helped”

“i’m glad”, he says, a small smile tugging at his lips.

then you tilt your head slightly, a faint smile forming on your face, “i wasn’t feeling that bad, to be honest. i just wanted to go out and didn’t know how, so i just went with that”

he starts laughing, “yeah? that was your plan?”

“obviously”, you shrug, “i like keeping things interesting”

he huffs softly, shaking his head, his smile getting bigger.

“noted”

you then hear more footsteps, heavier this time, and you both glance towards the hallway just as han appears, his hair messy and his eyes half-closed, a yawn escaping him as he sees you.

“morning…”, he mumbles.

“morning”, you and seungmin say almost at the same time.

han squints at both of you. then moves towards the fridge like he’s on autopilot. he grabs something, leans against the counter and then looks at seungmin.

“dude”, he says, his voice still rough from sleep, “you were restless last night”

seungmin stills slightly, and han continues, not thinking much of it.

“tossing and turning and everything… i thought you were gonna fall off the bed at some point”

you look at seungmin and his gaze drops to the table.

“yeah, i couldn’t sleep”, he says, “had um… a lot of things on my mind”

you look at him and just when you’re about to speak, you hear doors opening and closing, muffled voices getting closer. one by one, the others start appearing, lily being the first one, her hair tied up loosely, and still a little sleepy but smiling the moment she sees you.

“you’re up early”, she says, walking over to give you a quick hug.

“couldn’t sleep much more”, you say, hugging her back and then she takes a seat beside you.

minho comes next, calmer, more put together, “morning”, he says looking at all of you.

chan follows not long after, stretching as he walks in, his eyes finding you almost immediately.

“how are you feeling?”, he asks you, sitting next to seungmin.

“better”, you say.

he looks at you for a second, trying to see if you’re being honest or no, “good”

yeong joins soon after, greeting everyone, and before long, the space fills up with all of your voices and movement. the kitchen and living room blur together, no clear line between them, just all of you gathered around the table, some sitting, some leaning against the kitchen counter, talking over each other and laughing together.

han makes a joke and lily laughs loudly, pulling you into it. chan adds something on top of that, teasing, and minho rolls his eyes making his reaction even funnier. you find yourself laughing and smiling and then, you hear it, a sound that doesn’t belong there.

wheels. rolling against the floor.

the laughter fades almost immediately and all of you turn at the same time. hae is standing in the hallway with her suitcase in her hand.

“what…?”, lily is the first to react, her voice small with confusion, “w-what are you doing?”

you’re already standing before you fully process it, “hae? what is-?”

“i’m leaving”, she says.

the words land heavily, too fast and too sudden.

your brows pull together, “leaving?”

she nods, her grip tightening on the handle of the suitcase, “i talked to the producers this morning. i told them i… i can’t do this right now”

a silence follows, thick, all of your confused eyes on her.

“what do you mean?”, han asks, frowning.

she exhales softly, her gaze dropping for a second before she looks back at all of you.

“it’s too much”, she says, “just… everything. being here, the emotions, i…”, she trails off, shaking her head, “i didn’t think it would hit me like this”

you feel it again, that weight, the same one from last night when she cried, only much heavier now.

“i just… i need a few days”, she continues, “to clear my head and… breathe a little”

“so you’re coming back?”, yeong asks her.

hae nods quickly, “yeah. i’m not leaving for good. it’s just a few days”

another pause settles over all of you and you look around - everyone looks the same, surprised and concerned at the same time, unsure what to say but understanding.

“well…”, lily starts, her voice softer now, “if that’s what you need, then you should do it”

“yeah”, chan agrees, “it’s better to take care of yourself first”

han scratches the back of his neck, then adds, “yeah… it’s not worth it if it’s too much”

you step a little closer to her, “just… come back when you’re ready, okay?”

she looks at you, her eyes softening, “i will”

“let me help you”, seungmin says suddenly, already stepping forward to take one of the bags she’s carrying. 

she hesitates for a second, then lets him, “thank you”

without really saying it out loud, all of you start moving, walking her to the door together because no one wants to be the one who stays behind. when you reach the entrance, she pauses and then turns back to look at all of you and you can tell there’s something she’s trying to hold together.

“take care of yourselves, okay?”, she says.

“you too”, minho says.

“text us, and call us”, lily adds quickly, “like, all the time”

that makes hae smile a little, “i will”

she looks at each of you one last time then at you, “rest”, she says gently.

you nod your head, “i will”

and then, she turns, opens the door and steps outside. the sound of the rain fills the space for a brief moment before the door closes behind her and just like that, she’s gone.

you all stay there, standing, looking at the door and even though no one says anything, all of you can feel the heaviness settling back in, the reminder of what this place really is and what it’s doing to all of you, and how easily anyone could reach their limit.

after hae leaves, everything shifts. the mood drops like the sky outside, the rain still falling against the windows like it’s mirroring everything that’s going on inside the house. the energy from earlier disappears completely and the laughter fades. 

some of the others drift away quietly, disappearing into their rooms without much of a word. others linger for a bit longer before stepping outside, probably to clear their heads for a bit. you stay in the living room, with your legs tucked under you on the sofa and the sound of the rain filling the space.

your mind keeps drifting to hae, her voice shaking and the way she cried last night. you close your eyes, trying to focus on something that will help you calm down, but the only thing you see is her tears falling down her face, like the rain against the window.

the rain hasn’t stopped and you don’t think it will stop anytime soon. 

“how are you?”

you open your eyes and see minho looking at you, his hands in his pockets.

“i’m okay”, you say after a second.

“you sure?”

you nod your head, “yeah, well… as okay as you can be i guess”

he walks closer to you before sitting down on the armchair across from you.

“same here”, he says.

you tilt your head a bit, looking at him, “you look bored”

he raises an eyebrow, “do i?”

“yeah”

he hums, leaning back, “i am”

“me too”, you say.

he looks at you for a second, then something appears in his expression- a small spark, like an idea forming.

“wait here”, he says.

you blink, “what?”

“i have an idea”, he continues, already standing up.

“for what?”

he doesn’t answer, just shakes his head and walks to the door.

“just wait”

you watch him go, confused but curious. the door closes behind him and then, you’re alone again. you look at the clock and five minutes pass, then ten. you almost start thinking he won’t come back until the door opens again. you sit up as he walks in and see him with a couple of bags in his hands before he places them on the kitchen counter.

“what’s that?”, you ask

“your entertainment for the day”

he start taking things out - flour, sugar, butter, chocolate chips, cookie cutters, decorating tools. you stare at the growing pile.

“wait, minho, are we baking?”

he looks at you, almost amused.

“no”, he says dryly, “we’re building a spaceship”

“ha, ha, very funny”, you say, sticking your tongue at him.

“i’m going to teach you”, he says.

you huff a small laugh, shaking your head, “okay, yeah. teach me”

you both get reading minho moving easily, confidently, completely sure of what he’s doing.

“okay”, he says, handing you something, “start with this”

you take it, and look at it, “what if i mess it up?”

“you will”, he says without hesitation and then you stare at him, “but it’s fine”

you laugh again, rolling your eyes, but you start anyway. at first, it’s messy, you’re clumsy, but it’s fun and you slowly get the hang of it. when you mismeasure something, he notices and steps closer to you.

“here, give me that”, he says, reaching for your hand to adjust what you’re doing.

for a second, your breath catches, quick and subtle, but it’s there, and you both notice it, but then, he pulls back, pretending nothing happened. you keep going, mixing and messing up, him correcting you, both of you laughing together. at some point, you get flour on your hand and brush it against his sleeve.

he stops, looks at it and then at you, “did you just-”

“oops”, you say, biting your lip.

he narrows his eyes and then reaches for the flour.

“no, no, minho, no, don’t you dare-”

too late.

you laugh as you step back, trying to avoid him, the two of you moving and running around the kitchen now, the mood completely different from before and the rain outside almost forgotten.

“okay, i heard laughing”, han’s voice comes first, curious and loud, “and i refuse to be left out of that”

you turn just as he appears in the kitchen, stopping when he takes in the scene in front of him - flour on the counter, ingredients everywhere, you and minho standing there with matching guilty expressions.

“... what is happening here?”, he asks, his eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.

you grin, brushing your hands together, “we’re baking cookies”

“cookies?”, he says, stepping closer to see better.

“minho is teaching me”, you say.

han looks at minho, then back at you, then back at minho.

“... should i be worried?”, he asks.

minho goes back to what he was doing before, “very”

you laugh, shaking your head, and before any of you can say anything else, another voice joins in.

“what are you doing here?”, lily says as she walks in, her eyes lighting up when she sees everything laid out on the counter, “oh my god, are you baking?”

“yeah”, you say, “we just finished the dough. we were about to make the shapes and decorate them”

her face brightens immediately, “wait, that’s so fun!”

minho looks up then, “there’s enough dough for everyone, we might as well make it a group activity”

han doesn’t even hesitate, “say less, i’ll go get the others”, he says, already turning around.

“i’ll help you”, lily says, following him.

the kitchen quiets again just as suddenly as it had filled. it’s just you and minho now. you lean against the counter, watching minho as he starts organising things again. there’s a small smile on your face, soft, unthinking, but he sees it.

“what?”, he asks you, glancing at you briefly.

you blink, like you’ve been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to, “what?”

“that look”, he says, “what is it?”

you shake your head, “nothing”

he doesn’t look very convinced but he doesn’t push, he just hums quietly and goes back to what he was doing and then, the kitchen fills again. everyone walks in looking curious, drawn in by the noise.

“what’s going on?”, chan says, looking around.

“we’re making cookies!”, lily says.

“minho made dough for everyone, so now we all have to participate”, han adds.

“have to?”, seungmin says, raising an eyebrow.

“yes”, you say firmly, “no exceptions”

there’s a soft ripple of laughter as everyone gathers around the counter, the space suddenly full again, warmer and louder. minho claps his hands once, drawing everyone’s attention.

“okay”, he says, slipping back into that calm, controlled tone, “you take the dough, shape it however you want and then decorate it”

“however we want?”, han asks, already reaching for some.

“within reason”, minho replies.

“define reason”, han mutters under his breath, making you laugh.

everyone starts moving then, hands reaching for dough, flour dusting the counter again as the now group activity begins. you watch as each of them starts shaping something different. 

lily carefully presses her dough into a heart shape. han tries to make something that vaguely resembles a microphone but ends up giving up halfway through. yeong makes a small star, smiling softly to herself.

you roll your dough slowly, thinking for a second before shaping it into something simple and very you, a book. minho passes behind you, glancing down briefly.

“of course you did a book”, he murmurs. 

you smile, “what else would i do?”

across from you, chan is shaping something with more focus than expected, his brows slightly furrowed, but you’re not really sure what he’s doing yet. next to him, seungmin is doing the same and chan glances over at what he’s making. 

“what is that?”, he asks him.

seungmin doesn’t look up when he answers, “it’s a dog”

chan leans closer, squinting, “a dog?”

“yeah”, he pauses, then adds a little more casually, “pochacco”

for a second, no one reacts, and then-

“oh my god”, lily laughs.

“it’s pochacco! that’s right”, han says, laughing too.

chan lets out a laugh too, looking at him, “you really made pochacco?”

seungmin finally looks up, a small, almost defensive smile on his face.

“what? i like it, it’s cute. what’s wrong with that?”

“nothing”, you say, smiling, “it’s actually really good”

he looks at you and smiles, then looks back down at what he’s doing.

“i know”, he says, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice now.

the laughter spreads again and for a while, that’s all there is - flour on your hands, dough under your fingers, voices overlapping and laughter filling the space as you all try to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

the next day moves faster than you expect. maybe it’s because the heaviness from hae leaving is still there, sitting in the background instead of pressing down on everything. or maybe it’s because everyone seems to be trying to keep things moving and not get stuck in it. 

morning comes and goes in a blur. people leave one by one, grabbing their things, saying quick, goodbyes as they head out for work. the house slowly empties until it’s just you and han left.

“okay”, he says, stretching his arms, “we have a mission: groceries”

you look at him, “is it that serious?”

“it’s very serious, life or death serious”, he nods his head, “we need snacks. maybe a cheesecake for us too”

you laugh, shaking your head and then you both put on your shoes and leave the house. the rain from yesterday is gone, but the air is still cool. you go to the market, and it’s busy and full of noise.

“okay”, han says, grabbing a basket, “we need essentials, i mean snacks”

“that’s not essentials, han”

“it is to me”

you roll your eyes but start walking anyway. you move between stands, picking things up and putting others back, occasionally arguing over what you actually need.

“we don’t need this”, you say, holding up the dubai chocolate cookies he had grabbed.

“we do”

“we don’t”

“we do”

you stare at him and he stares back.

“... okay, fine”, you sigh, “but if we run out of actual food, that’s on you”

“we won’t”, he says confidently, already walking again.

it’s easy. with him, it’s easy. when you return to the house, chan is already there in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his phone in his hand, but he looks up the moment you walk in.

“you’re back”, he says, smiling at you.

“chan bro, y/n kept rejecting all my snack choices!”, han groans.

“because they were bad”, you say, setting the bags down.

“no they weren’t”

chan laughs softly, pushing himself off the counter to help, and you all move around the kitchen together as you unpack everything you bought. the three of you end up eating together not long after, the conversation flowing easily again. at some point, han stands up.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick”, he says, “i’ll be back”

you nod, not thinking much of it as he disappears down the hallway. and just like that, it’s quiet again, just chan and you. he’s sitting across from you, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. you look at him and find him already looking at you.

“how are you feeling?”, he asks.

“better”, you say.

“yeah?”

you nod, “yeah, i promise”

you see him hesitate before he finally speaks again, “i’m glad i was there for you the other day”

your chest tightens and you look down at your hands for a moment, then back at him.

“me too”

“you don’t have to handle everything alone here”, he says.

you hold his gaze for a second longer than you should, “i know”

he goes to say something else but han comes back in, completely unaware of anything that just happened.

“did you guys miss me?”

“not really”, chan says under his breath and you laugh.

and just like that, his moment is gone, none of you mentioning it again. when you finish eating and cleaning what you used, you go back to your book and sit down trying to read but your mind keeps going back to last night. 

you got two texts again, one from your ex and one from someone else and you’re almost sure that someone else is chan. you move on your bed, staring down at the page without really reading it.

last night, after everything that happened with hae, after the fear and the emotions and the worrying and the weight of it all-

you had chosen your ex again, you had sent the message without overthinking too much.

‘thank you for being here with me”

that’s what you had sent. but you don’t know what it means, you don’t know what your heart is trying to tell you. you’ve texted your ex every single night since you arrived, except the night you went to the hospital, the night you texted chan.

what does that mean?

are you just falling back into something familiar?

are you just confused?

what about chan?

what does it mean that you texted him that night?

your thoughts start spiraling again, faster and messier, and you’re so lost in your head that you almost miss your phone vibrating and beeping next to you. you reach for it and open the message you just got. 

exchange: go to the X room on the right. you are going to answer questions about your ex

your thoughts stop, only to be replaced by something else - nerves, again.

you walk downstairs as quickly as you can and you go straight to the two x rooms, opening the one on the right and closing the door behind you. it’s the same as before - the chair, the table, the mirror and the computer already on, the chat open and empty, waiting for you. you stare at the screen, your heart beating faster and faster and then, the first question appears.

‘how did it feel to see your ex again?’

you stare at the question as your mind flashes back to the first day, to the first time you saw him in the house. you press your lips together then start typing.

ex (you): i was happy to see him, he hasn’t changed at all

you hover over the send button for a second then press it, and another question appears almost immediately.

‘do you still have feelings for him?’

your fingers freeze, you almost forget how to breathe. you should’ve know this was gonna happen, this question was gonna come sooner or later. but seeing that question there… it still hits. you stare at the blinking cursor, your thoughts moving too fast all at once.

do you?

you don’t even know how to answer that question to yourself, let alone to someone else. because the truth isn’t simple, it’s never been. you exhale slowly and start writing.

ex (you): i can’t say i’m completely over him

you send it and there’s a pause before the next question appears, a longer one this time.

‘how will you feel if he likes another girl?’

you let out a long breath, leaning back in your chair. your eyes close for just a second, you’ve never thought about this, and even just reading that… hurts, more than you want to admit, but you know you don’t have a say anymore. you open your eyes again, your fingers moving a little slower now.

ex (you): i want him to be happy so if he’s happy... i guess that would be the most important thing

you send it, your chest much heavier now but you try to ignore it, especially when you read the next question.

‘do you like someone else besides him?’

you still, completely. you’re almost sure you’ve stopped breathing this time. you try to answer but nothing comes, because this answer isn’t clear either.

chan.

you suddenly think about him and the way he looks at you, the way he takes care of you. then, you think about your ex, about everything that’s still there, still unfinished, still pulling at you, still the person you reach in this house.

you swallow, breathe deeply and then, start writing.

ex (you): i honestly don’t know

you send it and look at the screen again. it feels like a part of you is lying, but that’s the only way you can answer right now.

the chat goes still and then the screen goes black, no more questions, no more messages. just your reflection staring back at you faintly through the screen. you stay there for a moment longer, your hands resting on the keyboard and your thoughts screaming inside your head.

you don’t know how long you sit there before you finally push your chair back and stand up. you take one last look at the screen then turn and walk towards the house again. you hear voices as you get closer to the kitchen, life moving on like nothing just happened, but something did, even if no one else saw it.  

everyone is in the kitchen preparing dinner when you step in.

“hey”, you say softly.

a few heads turn immediately.

“hey”, chan says, smiling softly at you.

“hi, love”, yeong says, moving closer to you.

you reach for something on the counter, helping without needing to be told, han telling a story but minho correcting him when he exaggerates it, making everyone else laugh. you’re cutting some vegetables when the doorbell rings and everyone stops, looking at each other.

tonight? again?

“i’ll get it”, yeong says, wiping her hands on a towel as she walks to the door.

silence settles in again and no one really speaks. you hear the faint sound of the door opening, then you hear voices, followed by the door closing and then footsteps. when yeong comes back into the kitchen, she’s not alone, there’s a girl standing beside her and a suitcase next to her.

for a second, no one says anything, you just look, taking her in. she looks around the room, her expression a mix of nerves and excitement, like she’s trying to keep herself steady, then she bows quickly.

“hi… i’m yuna. i’m the new participant”

what?

a new participant?

“oh- hi”, lily is the first to react, stepping forward to greet her.

“welcome”, chan says, offering a small smile.

you follow the others, introducing yourself, and just like the first day, names are exchanged and smiles are given. but there’s a shift in the room and everyone feels it, a new person means a new ex, another story. 

you look at everyone and they all seem to be thinking the same thing, their faces showing the same curiosity and confusion you’re sure you’re showing in your face right now too. you then remember the questions you got minutes ago, how sharper they were, more direct and less careful, and you look at the new girl again.

yuna.

was it her?

you’ve known lily and yeong long enough to know this type of questions wouldn’t come from them, and they’re also living the same experience, so they know how to ask things without being too direct.

“come on, i’ll show you around. you will take hae’s bed”, yeong says, picking up yuna’s suitcase. 

yuna nods, offering a small smile again before following her out of the kitchen.

“okay, did anyone see that coming?”, lily murmurs softly, mostly to fill the silence.

“honestly? no”, han says.

you all return to what you were doing, focusing on the food and the small tasks in front of you. but your mind keeps drifting, it seems like it’s the only thing it does ever since you came to this house. you’re placing something down on the counter when your phone vibrates again. you reach for it and open the new text.

exchange: go to the interview room downstairs

you lock your phone, your fingers tightening around it.

“seungmin can you finish this, please? i gotta go do something”, you say.

he looks up at you immediately, nodding without hesitation.

“yeah, i’ve got it”, he says, moving into your place as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

your fingers brush the edge of the counter once before you turn away, your heart picking up again as you walk through the hallway, then downstairs again. you reach the basement and pause for a second, your eyes scanning the place until you find the interview room. it’s written clearly on the door, just like the others.

you walk to the room and stand outside for a moment, then you push it open and walk inside. there’s a chair placed directly in front of a camera and lights set up around it. there’s a small table to the side, a clipboard, and a few other things scattered around.

“come in”, someone says from somewhere behind the camera.

you close the door behind you, your heart beating even faster now. you move towards the chair and sit down, your hands resting on your thighs and your fingers lacing together.

“okay”, the voice speaks again, calm and measured, “now that you’ve been in the house for a few days, we’re going to start doing some interview segments, okay? just talk naturally, answer honestly and take your time”

you nod slowly, swallowing.

“yeah… okay”, you say softly.

you inhale deeply as they start getting everything ready and start recording and then, you hear the first question.

“how has the experience been for you so far?”

you blink once, your shoulders shifting as you adjust in your seat. 

“it’s… a lot”, you say, laughing softly, “it’s not what i expected. everything feels bigger here, like every single things matters more than it normally would”

you glance down at your hands for a moment before looking back up.

“but it’s good too”, you continue, “i’ve met really nice people. everyone is really good and kind, which makes everything better”

“and do you feel comfortable in the house?”

you think about your answer for a bit and then answer honestly.

“i think so”, you say slowly, “i mean, i’m getting there. it’s just different. living with other people you don’t really know, but also… kind of do, in a way”

another pause. and then, the tone changes.

“you’ve been sending your text to your ex most nights”

there it is. 

“yeah”, you say quietly.

“why?”

it’s just one word, but it lands heavier than the other questions. your fingers tighten together even more. you look down, staring at them before answering.

“because… he’s the only one i know”, you say at first, your voice soft.

but even as you say it, you know it’s not true. maybe it was for the first night, but now? you’re not doing it because of that. your lips press together as you try to think how to put the words together.

“or… that’s what i told myself at the beginning, at least”, you say, your voice dropping a little, “it felt easier, safer”

you lift your gaze again, your eyes finding the camera.

“but now…”

you trail off, your thoughts tangling together. now it’s not just that and you know it.

“now it’s more complicated”

there’s a brief silence before the voice speaks again, “you didn’t text him the night you went to the doctor”

you don’t know why but something inside you breaks a little and you nod slowly.

“no, i didn’t”, you say.

“why not?”

you inhale, your shoulders rising slightly.

because chan was there.

because chan took care of you.

because-

you look away for a second before answering.

“because someone else was there for me and i wanted to thank him”

“and how did that make you feel?”

“confused”, you admit, “grateful. but also… confused, yeah”

you let out a small, breathy laugh that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“i didn’t expect to feel like that, to come here and find someone that…”, you stop yourself.

“tell us about chan”

your heart stumbles at the sound of his name and your fingers loosen just a little.

“he’s…”, you start, then stop, trying to find the right words, “he’s easy to be around and when i’m with him, i don’t think as much, and that’s… nice”

your lips curve into a small smile without you realising.

“and umm, he’s really kind”, you continue, “and… yeah, he’s nice”

you let out a quiet breath when you finish, your smile fading as your thoughts drift again.

“and your ex?”, the voice asks gently.

you look down again, your eyes watering.

“he’s…”, you hesitate, your voice softer now.

“he’s different”, you say slowly, “with him, it’s not… something light, it’s deeper, heavier. there’s history there, a long one”

you swallow before you continue.

“but it’s also familiar, like i don’t have to explain anything, he just… knows. and that’s…”, you trail off, your voice trembling, not letting you finish your answer.

it’s beautiful but also hard, but you don’t say it. you don’t need to, the silence says it for you.

“do you think you’ve moved on from your ex?”, the voice asks.

“i…”

you can’t stop the tears that leave your eyes after that, your heart breaking inside your chest as you try to answer.

“i don’t know”, you answer honestly, “i thought i had. i thought that he would just be a beautiful memory that i would treasure forever, someone precious and special to me. but being here… seeing him again… it’s like…”

you stop as more tears fall and your chest rises and falls slowly. 

“it’s like nothing really ended”, you finish quietly. 

there’s a long silence after that and you sit there, with tears streaming down your face and your hands resting in your lap, your thoughts loud in your head even though the room is quiet. 

“thank you”, the voice says gently.

you nod once, even though you’re not sure what you’re doing exactly. you push yourself up from the chair, your legs feeling slightly unsteady as you stand up. and as you walk towards the door, you can’t stop thinking about everything you’ve just said.

chan.

your ex.

the way one makes you feel something new.

the way the other makes you feel like nothing ever ended.

and you don’t know which one scares you more.

“okay, whenever you’re ready”, the voice behind the camera says.

your ex nods once.

“i’m ready”

“how has the experience been for you so far?”

he exhales quietly through his nose, his gaze moving around the room before looking at the voice behind the camera again.

“it’s… weird”, he says, his tone steady and careful, “it’s not something i would’ve chosen for myself”

he shifts slightly in the chair, just enough to settle deeper into it.

“but… i came here for a reason”, he adds.

“are you comfortable in the house?”

he gives a small nod, “yeah, everyone’s really nice”

“do you think the experience could be different somehow?”

he thinks for a moment before he answers.

“i’m not sure. i mean it would be different if we lived with different ex-couples, but right now... i don’t think it could be different, no”

the voice pauses for a few seconds before the next question.

“you’ve only been sending your text to your ex”

his fingers tighten against his thighs. it’s subtle, almost invisible, but it’s there.

“yeah”, he says.

“why?”

he doesn’t answer right away and for the first time since sitting down, his gaze drops fully to the floor.

“because she’s the only one i wanna talk to”, he says, his voice softer now, less controlled.

there’s a silence in the room and then the voice speaks again.

“are you still in love with y/n?”

his chest rises and then falls. again and again. his lips press together for a moment, like he’s trying to find a way to say it that doesn’t expose too much.

but there isn’t one.

“there’s no ‘still’”, he says quietly.

his gaze lifts again, steady now, even if his voice is far from it.

“i never stopped”

the room feels smaller, tighter somehow, like everything has narrowed down to just that one sentence.

“how does it feel? watching the others meet new people?”

his jaw tightens slightly and he doesn’t hide it this time.

“it’s… what the show is”, he says, “but that doesn’t mean it’s easy”

he leans back in the chair, his hands finally moving, one of them dragging slowly over his thigh before settling again.

“they’re doing what they came here to do”, he continues, “meet new people, get to know each other, move on”

his voice dips slightly at the last words.

move on.

“and you?”, the voice asks.

he lets out a quiet breath, his gaze shifting slightly to the side before returning to the camera.

“i didn’t come here for that”, he says.

there’s something in his voice now, something rawer, less filtered.

“i know that’s what this show is supposed to be about”, he adds, “and that everyone came here to… remember their pasts and find someone new maybe”

he swallows, his hands tightening again, his fingers curling into his palms.

“but i don’t want that”

the words come out firmer this time, clearer.

“i don’t want someone new”

there’s no hesitation there, no pause either, just truth.

“i don’t want anyone that’s not y/n”

silence fills the room then, as his chest rises and falls slowly, like even saying it out loud took something out of him. and yet, there’s no regret in his expression, no doubt either.

“i came here because she wanted to”, he says after a moment, his voice quieter again but no less certain, “and i... i thought i could handle it”

his lips press together briefly and a faint shake of his head follows.

“i thought… maybe it would help her come back to me”, he admits, his gaze softening and his eyes start to water a little, “but watching her… laugh with someone else… look at someone else the way she used to look at me…”

he stops, his throat tightening, and everyone in the room can see everything he’s been holding in almost slip out. he shakes his head and then exhales slowly.

“i didn’t think coming here meant i could lose her again”, he finishes his voice barely above a whisper.

the room stays silent. no one interrupts, no one dares to. because everything that matters-

he’s already said it.

his gaze drops one last time before he looks back up at the camera.

“i don’t want to move on”, he says, “i don’t want to let go”

his fingers loosen against his thighs again and his shoulders settle, like he’s made peace with saying all of this out loud.

“with y/n it’s… it’s not something that ended”, he adds quietly.

he inhales and then speaks again.

“it’s something i’m still in”

a/n: pls let’s cry together i love the ex so much 😭😭 but i love chan too omg 😭😭 and hae left noooo my girl 😭 BUT we have a new girl in the house!! let’s welcome yuna 🥳 but who is she? does any of the boys have 2 exes? is another boy coming? are you team ex or team chan? let me know 🤔👀

the library

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[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 6.4k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< part 2 | part 4 >

you keep playing, or at least. you try to, because now the only thing that you can think about is chan next to you and how close he’s sitting to you, much closer than han was before. the game continues for a couple more rounds, the tower getting more and more unstable as you go, the dares and questions still making everyone laugh and scream, the confessions getting even more teasing and explicit as they go.

hae reaches for the next piece, mumbling something about how the tower is definitely gonna fall after her round and then-

your phones vibrate, everyone’s, at the same time and you all freeze for a second. you already know what it is, it’s that time of the day again. but still, your heart picks up anyway as you open the message. 

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

it’s the first time you all get the text together and something about that makes you feel more exposed, more vulnerable. you know you don’t have to say who you texted or even talk about it, but you feel weird doing this here, in the open. 

you shift in your seat, your fingers tightening around your phone as your mind moves quickly, wondering what you should do.

han.

you had gone on a date with him and it had been fun, you had laughed so much and he made you feel good and comfortable with him. it had been easy and fun. you look at him quickly and you see he’s looking at his phone too, his expression unreadable, which was surprising. 

it would make sense to choose him tonight, to send him a text but… something doesn’t click. you’re sure you’re gonna become closer, might become friends even, but your heart? your heart doesn’t think it will go beyond that.

you look back down at your screen as your thoughts drift somewhere else, or rather, to someone else. the same person that has been in your mind ever since you came here. before you can overthink it any further, you start writing.

‘hope your day was good’

you stare at it for a moment and then press send. you lock your phone, then place it on the table, exhaling softly. around you, the others are doing the same and there are a few laughs, a couple of glances exchanged, but no one asks or says anything. you lean back in your chair, trying to relax again but then, your phone beeps again and your eyes drop to it immediately.

a new message.

‘i wish we could talk more here’

your breath catches slightly but you try not to react to it, don’t make it obvious. you don’t move for a second, as your eyes stay fixed on the words. and then, you get another text, the one you were sure you were gonna get after that one.

exchange: your ex chose you

even in your sleep, he’s there. fragments of the day replayed over and over again in your dreams, and he was there, in every single one of them. you dreamt about him texting you again, of him reaching out to you, of you laughing together, of him holding you close. you dreamt about his words on your phone and then those words pressed to your lips as he kisses you. you dreamt about you saying something too, just to be silenced by his lips against yours again. 

when you finally wake up, it feels like you haven’t really slept. your head is heavy, your thoughts slow and tangled, like they never paused at all. you blink a few times, staring at the ceiling as you lie in your bed. you can see the light that filters through the curtains, and beside you, you can hear lily who is already up, moving around the room as she gets ready.

you push yourself up, rubbing your eyes and she finally realises you’re not sleeping anymore.

“good morning, honey”, she says, turning towards you.

“good morning”, you say. 

she tilts her head, looking at you, “you okay? you look a bit peaky”

you let out a small breath, bringing a hand up to your temple, “yeah, it’s just… my head hurts a bit”

she frowns slightly, “you should take something for that after you eat”

“yeah”, you nod your head, “i will”

she turns around to finish getting ready, but she turns around again, looking at you once more.

“do you want me to stay here with you? i’m going out with some friends but i can see them other day”

“no, no, please, don’t do that. i’ll be okay, don’t worry”

“you sure?”

“yeah”, you say, smiling softly.

she opens her mouth again, then closes it, and you can see the hesitation on her face. then she smiles and tries again.

“okay, just call me if you need anything, okay?”

“yeah, okay”, you say, smiling too.

she stands up, grabs her bag and then leaves your room. you sit there for a moment, your gaze unfocused and your thoughts already drifting back to everything that happened yesterday - your date with han, the game when you came back, the messages, him. you let yourself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling again.

you turn your head and move your hand, reaching for your phone, but you don’t unlock it, even though part of you is screaming at you to do it. you don’t want to see the text again, you don’t want to read too much into it.

he’s just texting me because he knows me, just like i’m doing with him

yeah, that must be it

you close your eyes and you can picture him there, sending you that text, not knowing what it was doing to you. you open your eyes and force yourself to get up, you can’t stay in bed all morning. you change quickly and tie your hair back, trying to shake off that heaviness in your chest. you try to think of things that would clear your mind - eating breakfast, reading, calling a friend, just… anything, anything that would help your mind stop running. 

you step out of the room and start walking down the hallway towards the kitchen but then you slow down, the voices from the living room stop you. they’re familiar by now - chan, minho and seungmin. 

you pause just before turning the corner and stand there, listening to them, their conversation reaching you easily in the quiet house. 

“okay, that’s not true”, minho says.

“it is”, chan says, laughing.

“no, it’s not”, seungmin says, laughing even harder.

you can picture them already, sitting together on the sofa, you don’t need to see them to know that. you want to walk in right away but something inside you stops you and makes you stay where you are, listening, until chan speaks again.

“so… how is it for you guys?”, he says, “being here with them”

them.

which of course means you, and the rest of the girls too. you’re not sure why but your heart starts beating faster then, so fast you can hear it in your ears.

“it’s not as bad as i thought”, minho says.

“yeah?”, chan says.

“yeah”, minho continues, “i mean, it’s a bit weird sometimes obviously. but… it’s okay”

you hear the faint sound of movement, like someone is adjusting their position.

“it’s strange, but not in a bad way. just… something no one would think would ever happen to them”, seungmin says, his voice calm and controlled.

chan hums softly, “yeah, i get it”

you stay still, your back pressed against the wall and your fingers curling against your sleeve. you stay still as they continue talking, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re listening to them talking about their exes, about their pasts.

chan exhales before speaking again.

“i think i was more worried before coming here”, he admits, “and now that i’m here, it just feels… different”

“how different?”, minho asks.

chan takes a second before answering, “i don’t know. you just realise things weren’t all bad”

minho answers after a pause, “yeah, i wouldn’t change anything”

“me neither”, chan says.

then seungmin speaks again, “if i have to take one thing from it is that i’m really grateful”

the words land softly in the quiet room.

“for what?”, chan asks.

“for everything”, seungmin says, “even if it had to end like we did”

there’s no bitterness in his voice, no resentment either, there’s only honesty.

“yeah, it was the same for me”, minho says, “it didn’t end for no reason but… it wasn’t meaningless either”

“i learnt a lot from her”, chan says after a moment.

“and i think…”, seungmin continues, “that even if things don’t last forever, they can still be important”

no one interrupts each other, no one laughs after one speaks, they all just sit there, sharing their experiences, their stories and you find yourself in one of those stories, one of those pasts. you close your eyes as your throat tightens before you can stop it.

you don’t know exactly what he’s thinking, you don’t know how much of what he’s saying is about you, but you know enough, about him and about you two.

your vision blurs slightly and you blink, trying to steady yourself, but it’s too late and a tear slips down your face before you can stop it. you wipe it away quickly, pressing your lips together, trying to keep your breathing even.

inside, the mood shifts again, you can hear it when chan says something and minho and seungmin laugh. the moment has passed for them but you’re still standing there, holding onto it, as you take slow breaths, trying to calm you down.

you bring your hand up again, wiping your cheek carefully, making sure there’s nothing left and then, you step into the living room, as if you hadn’t heard anything that was just shared there. 

“good morning, guys”, you say.

all of them look up at you, chan waving his hand when he sees you. 

“morning”, seungmin says, a smile forming on his face.

“hello, y/n”, minho says, a little more casual, leaning back in his seat.

“have you guys eaten?”, you ask them, as you enter the kitchen and open one of the cabinets.

“yeah, we had breakfast before”, chan says.

“okay”, you say.

you reach for a plate, but before you can do much more, you feel someone behind you.

“i’ll do it”, minho says.

you turn to look at him, “you don’t have to”

“it’s fine, i don’t mind”, he shrugs. 

you hesitate for a second, “i was just going to make some toasts”

“well, i can make them for you”, he says.

you huff out a small laugh, “okay, thank you”

“you’re welcome”

he moves around the kitchen with ease, grabbing what he needs while you step back, letting him take over.

“go sit”, he says, nodding towards the living room.

you walk back over and sit down on the sofa with seungmin and chan, who turns to look at you better.

“were we too loud last night?”, he asks you.

after all of the girls had gone to sleep last night, the boys had stayed in the living room, just talking after the game, and your room was the one closest to the living room so you had definitely heard them laughing and talking for a while. 

“yeah, a bit”, you say, laughing softly.

seungmin lets out a quiet huff, “we weren’t that loud”

you look at him, raising your eyebrow, “if you wanna test how thin these walls are… be my guest”

minho’s voice cuts from the kitchen, “yeah, they’re terrible”

his room - and chan’s - is on the other side of the living room, so you assume he suffers the same problem as you and lily. you all laugh together, the tension easing. 

“so”, chan asks you, “any plans today?”

you shake your head, “not really. i was thinking of staying in, reading a bit maybe”

“writer things”, seungmin says.

“exactly”, you say, both of you laughing softly.

minho walks back in then, placing a plate in front of you.

“your gourmet breakfast”, he says.

you look down then smile at him, “thank you, chef”

“don’t mention it”

the four of you stay there for a while, the boys talking as you eat with them, just laughing together and getting to know each other. it’s strange, how normal it can feel, if it wasn’t for the fact that none of you can forget the reason why you’re really there as well as the cameras that are recording every single move and every single thing you say. but you let yourself relax for a bit and just be there, with them, listening more than talking at times as you eat slowly. 

once you finish your breakfast, you go to the kitchen to leave the plate and then turn to look at the boys.

“okay, i’m gonna go read for a bit now”; you say.

chan nods, “yeah, go recharge”

“don’t fall asleep”, minho says.

“no promises”, you say laughing as you walk to your room.

you open your door and just when you’re about to go inside, something stops you, or, well, someone does.

“hey”

you turn around and find chan, who is standing a few steps behind you.

“yeah?”

“i was thinking about going out later to buy some things i need”, he says, “do you wanna come with me?”

you blink, a little surprised.

“yeah”, you say after a couple of seconds, “sure, sounds good”

a smile appears on his face, “great. i wasn’t planning to go now, so you can go and do your things. i will tell you when i go to get ready”

“alright”, you nod your head.

“okay”

then, he nods his head too and turns back towards the living room again. you watch him go for a second before turning back to your door and stepping inside your room, closing your door behind you, the push and pull entering your room with you. you let out a small breath, leaning against the door for a moment, pausing everything for just a second. 

your head still hurts, not as much as before, but enough. you walk over to your bag, grabbing the medicine you always have there and taking it with a sip of water, hoping it will kick in soon. 

then you reach for your book, your fingers brushing over the cover before you move towards your bed but you stop halfway, when your gaze shifts to the glass doors - the garden. you hesitate only for a moment before walking over and sliding them open, a soft breeze immediately slipping into the room, fresh and cool against your skin.

it feels good, so much better than staying inside, so you step out and walk to the low sofas that are in the garden. you can see the han river from there, stretching out in the distance, reflecting the morning light. you sit down, tucking your legs under you and settling into the corner of the sofa. 

you stay there, looking at the river for a while before you finally open your book. your eyes move across the lines, following the words, turning a page after a few minutes, but nothing sticks because your mind keeps wandering - back to the house, to the date with han, to the game last night, to the texts, to him. 

always to him. 

you sigh quietly, closing the book and letting it rest on your lap. it’s not just the headache, it’s everything. you reach for your phone instead, unlocking it and putting on some music, something soft or that might help you focus, or at least quiet your thoughts a little.

you scroll aimlessly, not really paying attention to anything on the screen. minutes pass like that, or maybe more, you’re not really sure, until-

“do you mind if i join you?”

you freeze at the sound of a voice behind you, then turn around to find minho standing behind the sofa, one hand resting against it, looking at you. you blink one, then shake your head.

“no”, you say, smiling at him. 

minho nods once at your answer and walks around the sofa, lowering himself onto the seat next to you. the music keeps playing softly from your phone, blending with the quiet sounds of the garden. you look at him, a small smile forming.

“so”, you start, tilting your head, “you left to get some air or you’re just tired of being everyone’s personal chef already?”

he lets out a laugh, leaning back into the cushions.

“i knew this would come back to bite me”, he says.

“well, you did set the standard”, you reply, “now we all expect food from you every day”

“yeah… no”, he shakes his head, amused, “i regret everything”

“too late”, you say, “you can’t take it back now”

“watch me”, he shoots back.

you keep talking and teasing each other for a while, small jokes passing back and forth without much effort. and slowly, without really noticing when, the tone starts changing as minho looks at you, his expression a little more thoughtful now.

“so”, he says, “how are you doing? how is it… for you?”

you look at him, “for me?”

“yeah”, he nods his head, “this whole thing”

you hesitate, your fingers tightening around your phone, your gaze moving towards the river for a second before coming back to him.

“it’s… a lot, to be honest”, you say.

he hums, not interrupting you.

“i honestly didn’t think it would feel like this”, you continue, “i thought it would be easier, or at least clearer”

“clearer? how?”

“i don’t know”, you let out a small breath, “like i’d know what i’m supposed to do or say or even feel”

he watches you carefully before he speaks again, “and do you?”

you shake your head slowly, “no”

you pause for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to find the right words to express what you’re feeling.

“it’s confusing”, you say, “being here. being here with everyone. seeing…”, you stop yourself, looking at him for a moment then looking away.

he doesn’t push.

“yeah”, he says, looking at you, “it really is”

you look at him again, your chest getting tighter and tighter and before you can think too much about your words, the song changes and you freeze. it’s familiar, too familiar, and the first notes alone are enough to make your breath catch.

you know this song, you know it too well, it used to mean everything for both of you. your fingers grip your phone even tighter, your body going still as the memories come flooding in without permission. you try to ignore them, to keep talking and pretend it’s just another song. but you can’t do that, not with this one.

your voice falters when you try to say something, your throat tightening before the words can even form and minho notices immediately.

“hey”, he says softly.

you blink quickly, trying to steady yourself, but it’s no use. the emotions build too fast and you let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging before you can stop it.

“i’m fine”, you try to say, but it doesn’t come out right.

“come here”, he says gently.

before you can think about it, he shifts closer, his arm wrapping around you, pulling you in carefully. your body reacts before your mind does and you lean into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the tears finally spill over. you don’t sob, you just let out silent tears, your breath becoming uneven as your fingers move to clutch lightly at his t-shirt.

minho doesn’t say much, he just stays there with you, both of his hands against your arm, pulling you closer to him, his head on top of yours.

“it’s okay”, he murmurs softly, “i know, i know”

you nod faintly against him, your eyes closing for a second. then he shifts slightly, his voice dropping just a little.

“y/n”, he starts.

you lift your head a bit, still close to him, your breathing not fully steady yet.

“you know that i-”

“am i interrupting?”

a voice cuts through the moment and you both turn around. chan is standing behind the sofa, just like minho was moments ago, his gaze flickering between the two of you. you blink, quickly wiping at your face, and then pull back from minho.

“no”, you say, although your voice betrays you, “it’s fine”

chan nods slowly, his expression unreadable for a second before he quickly looks away and then looks at you again, a small smile on his face now.

“i am going to get ready”, he says, “thought i’d let you know”

you nod, “i’ll go get ready too”

“okay”

then he nods again and walks back to the house, leaving the patio doors open behind him as he disappears inside. you turn back to minho, your voice low.

“what were you going to say?”

he looks at you for a second, then his lips press together, his gaze shifting away as he shakes his head lightly.

“nothing”, he says.

you watch him, a small frown forming, “you sure?”

he lets out a quiet breath, then looks back at you.

“yeah”, he says gently, “you should go get ready”

there’s something in his tone that makes you hesitate a bit before you finally nod slowly.

“okay”

you grab your phone and your book and stand up, smoothing your clothes, even if your heart is still not fully steady, and then you step away.

“okay be honest”

the curtain of the fitting room pulls open and chan steps out, turning around and walking like he’s a model. you blink once and then start laughing.

“okay, wow”, you say, covering your mouth while you laugh before dropping your hand, “that actually looks really good?”

he raises an eyebrow, “actually?”

“you know what i mean, chan”, you grin, “i… wasn’t expecting you to go for that look”

he looks down at himself, smoothing the fabric of the shirt, “i told you i wanted to try something different”

“yeah, and you look really good”, you say honestly.

he turns again, checking himself in the mirror, then looks at you again.

“you’re not just saying that?”

“no”, you shake your head, “i’d tell you if it looked bad”

“i don’t know if i trust you”

“you should, i’m brutally honest”, you say.

he laughs, shaking his head before disappearing back into the fitting room. a few minutes later, the curtain opens again and he steps out with a completely different outfit. you look up from your phone and immediately smile.

“okay, no, this one is my favourite”

“your favourite?”, he says, “so you don’t like the previous one?”

“i didn’t say that”

“that’s what i heard”

“i didn’t”

“you did”

you laugh, shaking your head, “just… turn around”

he does, obediently, and you take a second to look at the outfit better.

“yeah”, you nod, “i really like this one”

“better than the first one?”

you sigh, pretending to be annoyed.

“different vibe”, you say.

“that’s not an answer, y/n”, he smirks at you.

“that’s all you’re getting”

he laughs then, “you’re impossible”

“you’re the one that asked me to come”

“big mistake”

“the biggest one”

he smiles again, shaking his head before going back in. he changes into his clothes again and comes out with a few pieces draped over his arm, the ones he has decided to buy.

“okay, these are my final choices”, he says.

“those are very good choices”, you say.

“all thanks to you”

“well, obviously”

he rolls his eyes but there’s a smile there as he heads to pay. you follow him, still talking and laughing about some of the outfits he tried on.

“the first jacket you tried on was a crime against fashion”, you say.

“no it wasn’t! you just don’t understand fashion”, he says.

“oh, i understand it perfectly. that was just bad”

he laughs under his breath as he pays, shaking his head. once he’s done, he turns back to you, adjusting the bags in his hand. 

“alright”, he says, “as a thank you…”

you raise an eyebrow, “what?”

“i’m inviting you to eat something”

you blink, a small smile forming then, “you don’t have to do that”

“i know, but i want to”, he says. 

you hold his gaze for a second, then nod your head, “okay”

you step out of the shop together and walk towards a restaurant that chan knows, which is not far from the shop, just a couple of minutes walking. you don’t notice how close you’re walking until your arms almost brush once, then again, but neither of you comments on it.

once you get to the restaurant, you sit across from each other, then start reading the menu, deciding what you’re gonna get.

“i’m getting the fried chicken”, you say, as you read the menu.

“me too”, he replies, “it sound good”

“copying me already, chan?”

“no, i just have good instincts”

“sure”

once you order and the menus are gone, the conversation picks right back up, so easy and natural that you don’t even notice how much you’re smiling until your cheeks start to hurt a little. when the food arrives, you both pause for a second, looking at it.

“okay, this looks really good”, you say.

“it better be”, he says, “i’m the one paying”

you laugh, picking up your fork. you eat for a bit, trying to focus on the food and not just talking, but it doesn’t last long. chan glances around the restaurant and then looks at you again.

“do you think anyone here would ever guess what we’re doing?”

you stop and look at him, “what do you mean?”

“the show”, he says, “do you think anyone would look at us and go “yeah, they’re definitely filming a dating show with their exes and some people they didn't even know one week ago”?”

you almost choke from how hard you laugh at that.

“how would they ever guess that?”, you say, still laughing, “that’s way too specific”

“yeah, well…”, he smiles, “and it’s kind of weird when you think about it”

“it is weird”, you agree.

“because we’re not normal people”, he says.

you raise an eyebrow, “speak for yourself”

he laughs and then his gaze moves again around the restaurant, becoming playful and teasing.

“we could guess their lives instead”

“theirs?”, you ask, looking around.

“yeah”, he nods subtly towards a table nearby, “like that couple over there”

you follow his gaze and see a man and a woman sitting across from each other while they eat and talk.

“what about them?”, you ask.

chan leans in slightly, lowering his voice like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“okay”, he says, “they’ve been together for… twenty years”

“twenty?”, you ask, amused.

“minimum”, he nods seriously, “they met in university”

“of course they did”

“he was the quiet one”, chan continues, pointing subtly with his fork, “she was loud and the one who talked to him first”

you bite back a smile.

“they broke up once”, he continues.

“oh really?”

“yeah. for like… four months”

“why?”

he pauses, pretending to think.

“miscommunication”

you laugh, “that’s so vague”

“it always is”, he shrugs, “but they got back together and now everything’s fine”

you shake your head, laughing, “okay, that was terrible”

“no it wasn’t. it’s realistic”

“okay”, you say, leaning forward, “my turn”

he sits back, watching you expectantly. you look around the restaurant, trying to choose the next victims, when you finally decide on another table.

“alright”, you say, “you see those two?”

“yeah”

“they’re not a couple”

he frowns slightly, “they’re sitting very close for not being a couple”

“exactly”, you say, “that’s the point”

he raises an eyebrow and leans in, getting closer, “go on”

“they met today”, you continue, “it is a blind date”

“okay, that’s bold”

“yeah. and they’re both pretending they’re more interesting than they actually are”

he snorts, “hey, that’s really harsh!”

“but it’s true”, you insist, “just… look at the boy! he’s trying too hard”

chan looks at him for a moment, then nods his head, looking at you, “okay… i see it now”

“right?”

“yeah”, he says, laughing again, “he looks like he definitely rehearsed what to say before he came here”

you both laugh.

“okay, wait”, he says, “you see that guy over there?”

he points at someone on your right and you turn around to look at him, before nodding your head, looking at chan again.

“okay, that man is a secret agent”

“what!?”

you both start laughing so hard that a couple of people look your way and you have to lower your voices even more, even though it doesn’t really help.

“you’re so bad at this”, you say.

“i’m amazing at this”

“chan, you just said that man is a secret agent”

“because he looks like a secret agent”

“no, he looks like… an accountant”

“that’s just his cover”

you laugh again, throwing your head back as you laugh, completely missing the way he looks at you with bright eyes and the biggest smile on his face.

when you get back to the house, you step out of the car together and then walk in, finding the living room completely empty.

“i guess everyone’s out or in their rooms”, you say.

“looks like it”, chan says.

you turn to look at him, “thanks for the food and, well… everything”

he smiles at you, “no, thank you for coming with me”

you nod your head, a small smile still on your face, “i’m gonna go to my room and rest for a bit”

“yeah”, he says, adjusting his bags with the clothes he had bought, “i’m gonna do the same”

you pause there for a moment, just looking at each other, then you both nod once more, like that’s enough, and turn towards your rooms. when you get to yours, you change into something more comfortable and then you realise, you’re still smiling, and you hadn’t even noticed when it started. you slip into your bed, pulling the sheets over you, your head sinking into the pillow but before you can even fully settle, you fall asleep. 

you don’t know how long you sleep, it doesn’t feel like much, but once you wake up, you realise you have slept for two hours, maybe three. your eyes open and close slowly a couple of times, your body still sunk into the mattress, but something feels off immediately. your head hurts again, much more than it did this morning. 

it’s a dull and persistent ache that sits behind your eyes and makes everything feel much heavier. you shift under the sheets and that’s when you realise how hot you feel, too warm, uncomfortably so.

you let out a sigh and push the sheets off you, the cooler air of the room brushing against your skin and you hope it might help you a little, but it’s not enough. you bring a hand up to your forehead, your fingers staying there for a second. you know something’s not right.

the door opens softly and you don’t even turn to look at first, you just lie there, hearing someone come in.

“oh, you’re finally awake”

it’s lily. you blink slowly and turn your head towards her, your movements a little sluggish. 

“i came in earlier and you were still sleeping”, she says, stepping further into the room.

you hum in response, your voice barely there, and she pauses because she can feel there’s something wrong. you can see it in the way her expression changes, the way she looks at you a little more carefully now.

“hey”, she says softly, walking closer to you, “are you okay?”

you take a small breath, “my head… it hurts”

“still?”, she frowns.

you nod faintly, “more than before”

she steps even closer to your bed and leans down, placing her hand against your forehead and her reaction is immediate.

“y/n”, she says, her voice getting louder, more serious now, “you’re burning up”

you blink at her, your mind a little foggy.

“i feel hot”, you say quietly.

“did you take something?”, she asks you.

“this morning”, you say, “for the headache”

she sight again, her hand still resting against your skin.

“okay… we might need to give you something else”, she murmurs, more to herself than to you.

you barely register it and then let out a loud groan, because everything feels a little distant - lily, the room, your body, even your thoughts. 

out in the hallway, footsteps slow down and some voices get lower when they hear your groans.

“did you hear that?”, han says, his voice quieter and more serious than usual.

“i think it came from y/n and lily’s room”, chan says.

they walk to your room and look inside, their expressions changing the moment they take in the scene. 

“what’s going on?”, han says, his voice a little rushed and confused.

chan walks in behind him, his expression getting even more serious the moment he sees you lying in your bed with lily right next to you.

“what happened?”, he asks, looking at her.

lily moves a bit, to look at them better, “she has a fever and her head has been hurting since this morning”

chan’s gaze snaps back to you.

“hey”, he says, his voice softer now, moving closer to your bed, “y/n?”

“i’m okay”, you mumble, though it doesn't sound convincing, even to you.

“you’re not okay”, lily cuts in quietly.

chan doesn’t say anything else. he just sits down on the other side of the bed, his hand coming up to your forehead and the moment his skin touches yours, his expression tightens. 

“you’re really warm”, he says.

han steps closer too, hovering near the edge of the bed, his brows drawn together in concern.

“why didn’t you tell me before? when we were out?”, chan continues.

“i was okay then, i didn’t want you to worry”

“did you take anything?”, han asks you.

“yeah, this morning”, you say weakly, “for the headache”

chan shakes his head, already thinking ahead.

“that’s not enough”, he says, “you need to see a doctor”

you frown faintly, your head throbbing.

“no, i’ll just take more medicine”, you say, trying to push yourself up a little.

chan’s hand moves immediately, stopping you.

“no”, he says.

it’s not loud, just firm, but you look at him, a little surprised by the tone.

“it’s probably just-”

“no”, he repeats, softer this time but just as certain, “you’re not staying like this”

han nods from where he stands, “yeah, you should get checked. just in case”

even lily agrees now, her voice gentle but serious, “it’s better to be safe”

you look between them, your thoughts slower than usual, your body heavy and weak at the same time.

“i don’t need to go”, you try again, though it comes out even weaker this time, but chan doesn’t even entertain it. 

“i’ll take you”, he says.

you shake your head, “no, chan, it’s fine, i-”

“it’s not”, he cuts in.

there’s no hesitation in his voice now, no room to argue.

“i’m taking you”, he says again.

you open your mouth to protest again, but the look on his face stops you. he looks determined and worried, and he’s not asking anymore. your resistance faces, more out of exhaustion than anything else.

“... okay”, you mumble.

“okay”, he repeats, softer now.

he stands up and offers you his hand.

“come on”

you take it, your legs feeling heavier than they should when you stand up, a slight wave of dizziness hitting you, but he’s already there, steadying you without making a big deal out of it.

“i’ve got you”, he says quietly.

lily moves quickly, grabbing a light jacket for you, helping you slip it on.

“text us when you get there”, she tells chan.

“i will”

han steps back to give you space, but his eyes don’t leave you.

“take care, okay?”, he says.

you nod faintly and then start moving. chan keeps a hand lightly at your back as you walk out of your room together, the hallways feeling longer than ever before, but when you finally reach the living room, you see everyone else is there. they all look up at the same time, sensing something’s wrong.

“what happened?”, hae asks.

lily steps forward, “she’s not feeling well. chan’s taking her to the doctor”

concern spreads across their faces instantly and yeong is the first to move closer.

“are you okay?”, she asks you, her voice soft but worried.

you try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, “mmhm, i’m okay”

“you don’t look okay”, she says gently, then turns to chan, “text us when you get there, okay? and call us when you leave”

“i will”, he nods.

you walk to the entrance and he crouches in front of you, helping you with your shoes, his movements quick but careful.

“you good?”, he asks you.

you nod your head and then he slips his own shoes on right after, then stands up, his hand finding your back again without hesitation.

“let’s go”

you don’t look back, you don’t see the way everyone is watching you. you don’t see the worry on their faces or hear the silence that settles once you reach the door. chan opens it, guiding you outside, then closes it behind you.

but there’s something else you don’t see.

you don’t see the way one of them moves forward instinctively, like he’s about to follow you, like he’s about to hold you in his arms and take you anywhere you need and give you whatever you need to make you feel better. 

you don’t see how he moves to reach for you, to say something, but he doesn’t, because he can’t.

the most important thing you don’t see is your ex standing there, watching the door long after it’s closed. 

a/n: okay... here we go... *sighs* BANG CHAN YOU'RE OUT ❌ he's not the ex, he's just a boy who's falling in love with her soooo hard i'm gonna cry *now watch me disappear*

the library

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[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 8.9k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< part 1 | part 3 >

you and han are still looking at each other when chan moves forward and gets the only card left, there’s no choice to make for him. he lets out a small breath, almost amused, before he picks it up.

“guess this one’s mine”, he says lightly, although you can hear a hint of nerves in his voice too. 

he flips it over and scans the code, then lifts his gaze after looking at his phone.

“done”, he says simply, looking at yeong who is already looking at him.

and just like that, it’s done, the first pairs are set. everyone starts talking about who they’re gonna have a date with, there’s no rule that says you can’t talk about that, and besides you’re gonna know the next day, so there’s no point trying to hide it.

you and han.

yeong and chan.

hae and seungmin.

lily and minho.

it settles over all of you at once - this isn’t just a house anymore, this is the beginning of your choices, of everything you came here for. no one quite meets each other's eyes for too long but that ends once lily claps her hands together, breaking through the silence that had just formed. 

“okay”, she says, a small but determined smile on her face, “we need to prepare dinner”, you feel the tension loosen just a fraction as she continues, “it’s our turn, right?”, she adds, looking at chan.

“yeah”, he nods, already standing up, “let’s do it”

they move to the kitchen quickly and the rest of you follow without needing to be told. you and hae start setting the table but even then, your mind doesn’t stay still. you glance up and look at han who’s across the kitchen, talking to minho about something you can’t quite hear. he then laughs at something and you look away, not wanting him to catch you looking at him. 

lily and chan work well together, they prepare dinner as they make small jokes that drift into the rest of the room and pull quiet smiles from the others. once dinner is ready, you all sit down like the night before, girls on one side and boys on the other.

“okay, let’s eat”, hae says and with that, all of you start eating.

jokes slip in between bites of food, just stories about the day and teasing comments. han makes a comment about how he woke up during the night and he almost went into a different room, not remembering which one was his and which one was chan and minho’s.

“that’s a shame, i would’ve shared my bed with you”, minho says and everyone bursts out laughing. 

when you finish eating, all of you start cleaning everything you used as well as the table when the doorbell rings again, the sound cutting through the room just like it did before.

“i’ll get it”, you say, already walking towards the door before you can think too much about it.

you open the door and see no one is there. for a second, you just stand there, slightly confused, before your gaze drops and you see the mailbox. there’s something inside, an envelope, the same one you’ve seen these past two days. you reach for it, your fingers brushing against it as you pull it out.

you close the door and walk back into the living room and when you get there, all eyes are already on you, some of them sitting and waiting for you. you hold up the envelope as soon as you get to the table.

“we’ve got another one”, you say and you barely finish the sentence before the reactions come.

“open it”, han says, leaning forward in his seat, curiosity clear in his voice.

“yeah, go on”, lily adds, wiping her hands quickly on a towel before sitting back down too.

you move a little closer to the table, the envelope still in your hands. even though it’s not the first time you see the envelope - and you’re sure it won’t be the last - it doesn’t make it any easier. if anything, it makes you even more aware and cautious of what it may contain. you slide your finger under the flap and open it carefully, pulling out the letter inside. you glance down and start reading.

‘participants, this is your second night in the house. after your exes introduced you yesterday, it is now your turn to introduce yourselves. you may ask each other questions to get to know one another better. however, please remember that questions related to your exes are not allowed’

you pause for a second, scanning the rest of the page and the envelope, but there’s nothing more there. 

“that’s all”, you say, lowering the paper.  

yeong lets out a small laugh, “so basically… we just interrogate each other?”

“not interrogate”, minho says, “more like get to know each other”

“without the exes part”, seungmin adds.

you sit back down, placing the letter on the table, your fingers still lightly resting on it for a moment before you pull them away.

“okay”, lily says, looking around, “who wants to start?”

“i’ll do it”, chan offers easily, sitting up a little straighter, resting his arms casually on the table, “as i told you yesterday, my name is bang chan but everyone calls me chan or chris. i’m a teacher, a music teacher actually, and umm… i’m from australia-”

“me too!”, lily cuts in.

“oh really?”, he asks and she nods her head, smiling at him, “that’s really cool. and umm… i love going to the gym and when i was little i used to participate in a lot of sports competition at school and drama and music stuff too”

“do you miss australia?”, yeong asks him.

“yeah, i mean, i love it here, but… you know, australia will always be my home”

he looks down and you know that is a touchy subject for him, so you take the opportunity to introduce yourself next, not wanting chan to feel like he has to continue talking if he doesn’t want to. 

“i’ll go next. okay, so, um… i love travelling and trying new things and… i’m a writer. i’ve always loved books and i started writing when i was a teenager and just kept going and yeah… it’s my job now, so i’m very happy about that. reading is a big part of what i do and i tend to disappear into my own world whenever i’m working or reading and you’re probably gonna see that a lot so i apologise in advance”

everyone laughs at that and then han asks you, “what do you write?”

“mostly romance”, you say, “i try to write a bit of everything but romance novels are my favourite thing to read and write so… yeah, they’re my thing”

“that’s cool”, he says. 

you nod, a small smile forming on your face without you thinking too much about it. yeong goes next, a bit more composed and thoughtful, like she had been rehearsing what she had to say when her turn came.

“i’m a store manager, i recently moved to a new shop that is actually not far from here, which is good. i love watching movies and knitting, but i’m not really good at that right now, i’m still learning”, she pauses when all of you laugh, “and yeah, i hope we all can get on here”

minho goes next, “okay, i opened a restaurant almost one year ago, and i’m the owner but also the chef because i love cooking and i learnt when i was very little-”

“wait, that’s why you were so quick to cook something for y/n today”, hae cuts in.

“yeah, i can’t help it, i don’t like when people don’t eat or skip meals, so none of you is gonna get away with that while we’re here by the way”, minho adds, making everyone laugh with his answer.

“also”, he continues, “i get that we’re gonna take turns making dinner and all that, but please feel free to ask me for help or anything whenever you want. it’s basically my job and you’re gonna have a hard time making me leave the kitchen”, he finishes making you all laugh again. 

all of you are more at ease right now, listening to everyone else, laughing when you feel like it, your postures more relaxed, and it’s almost like you forget for a moment why you’re really here, why you’re doing this. 

“okay, my turn i guess”, seungmin says, “i’m a photographer, and just like minho and y/n said, i started doing this when i was little and i’ve been lucky enough to turn it into my job. i used to play baseball when i was little too, but i don’t play anymore, although i still enjoy watching matches on tv and going to see them at the stadium whenever i can”

“really? what’s your favourite team?”, chan asks him.

“lotte giants dude, that’s the only correct answer”, he says, pretending to be offended and everyone laughs again.

there’s a brief pause before hae decides to speak, her voice quieter but steadier than last night when she read her letter.

“so, i’m hae, and i’m an event planner, mostly weddings and baby showers, but i also do birthdays and office parties sometimes too”, she says, her gaze moving between all of you as she speaks.

“oh my god, that has to be a lot of work. do you ever get tired of it?”, yeong asks her.

“not really. i mean, sometimes it’s a lot, yeah, but i love how they turn out at the end so… yeah, i just really enjoy it”, she finishes, a smile on her face now.

han moves forward and rests his chin briefly in his hand before looking at lily, “do you wanna go first?”

“no, please, you go”, she says, smiling at him.

“okay”, he says and sighs before he continues, “i’m han jisung, but everyone calls me han, so you can do that too, or jisung, i don’t mind, whatever you prefer. i’m a music producer and songwriter and uh… right now i’m finishing an album for a group, and it's obviously a busy time at the studio”

“that explains yesterday”, seungmin says.

“yeah”, han says, “sorry again”

“it’s fine”, you say, before you can stop yourself.

han looks at you for a moment and smiles before he speaks again, “i love music, obviously, and writing, and just… staying in honestly”

“same here”, lily says, making you all laugh.

“yeah?”, he grins slightly, “then we’ll get along”

han finishes his introduction and lily goes next, the last one of the group to introduce herself.

“okay so as i said before i’m from australia, and i moved here when i was 10? 11? something like that. i’m a journalist and no, when i was little i didn’t like writing”, she pauses when all of you laugh at her words, “but, i don’t know, i discovered it one day and… never looked back. i love travelling and fashion, and yeah… that’s it i guess”

once lily finishes, everyone starts asking questions to each other, the questions coming quicker and the answers more playful - some people tease each other, others exaggerate their stories to make everyone laugh, and even hae laughs more freely now, her earlier shyness softening and almost disappearing completely.

at one point, you’re all talking at once, your voices overlapping, the room alive and filled with chaos as if you have known each other for years and not just a day. you forget about the real reason you’re here, about everything that’s about to happen but then, the doorbell rings again. 

“again?”, han says, letting out a small, incredulous laugh as he leans back in his chair.

“they are really committed, i’ll give them that”, chan adds, shaking his head lightly, though there’s a hint of amusement in his voice.

“i’ll get it”, seungmin says and before anyone can answer, he’s walking out of the room.

lily watches him go, then leans towards the rest of you, “i actually feel bad for the person doing this”

a few of you glance at her and then she continues.

“imagine having to come all the way here, leave a letter, ring the bell, and then run away every time”, she says, a smile on her face, “they could just leave all of them at once and give us instructions like, i don’t know, ‘open letter number three at 10 p.m.’”

that earns another laugh from around the table.

“i’d prefer that”, han says, “less… heart attacks”

“where’s the fun in that?”, minho says, teasing.

seungmin reappears with a new envelope in his hand and sits down, opening it. 

‘there are places in this house you haven’t seen yet. it’s time for you to discover them’

you feel something in your chest tighten and he continues reading, his voice steady.

‘you will go to the basement and wait in the room with your name on the door. each participant has a different room. you will receive a text informing you when to go to the X room, where you may ask questions about your date for tomorrow’

“and… that’s it”, he says as he finishes reading. 

you glance around briefly and no one looks completely comfortable, the tension creeping back in, settling between all of you.

“well, i guess we’re going downstairs”, chan says, his tone light but quieter than before.

all of you stand up, your chairs scrapping against the floor as you do so, and you move with the group, following them towards the staircase that leads to the basement. the space opens up as you reach the bottom and immediately, you see them - eight doors with your names, all in a row, spaced evenly along the hallway. 

you slow down, your gaze moving across them until you find yours. it feels strange, seeing it there, placed deliberately, like everything else in this house. one by one, everyone stops in front of their door and there’s a brief moment where you’re all still together, standing in the same space, but it feels different now, like you’ve already been separated. 

“see you later”, lily says, smiling at you before turning towards her own door.

“yeah”, you nod, returning the smile and then, you open the door and disappear inside your room, closing the door behind you.

inside the room there’s only a table and an armchair for you to sit on, nothing else. you place your phone on the table, your fingers brushing against it and then, you wait, just that. at first your thoughts are scattered, trying to come up with the questions, trying to think about what’s gonna happen next.

what are you supposed to ask?

what can you ask? 

your foot taps lightly against the floor before you stop it, pressing your hands together instead. time passes and you look at your phone - nothing, no text. you lean back in the chair, trying to relax, but it doesn’t quite work. your mind keeps moving, going in circles about the date, about tomorrow, about your ex, about your han.

what do you want to know about him?

do you even want to get to know him?

what-

your phone vibrates suddenly and your hand moves to grab it. a text. your heart picks up as you read it. 

exchange: go to the X room on the left. you will be able to chat with your date’s ex and ask 3 questions about your date

okay, so this is how you’re gonna do it, great. you push yourself up from the chair, your movements slower than they should be, like your body is trying to catch up with your mind. your hand lingers on the door handle for just a moment before you open it and leave the room. you step out, closing the door behind you as gently as possible, the soft click echoing behind you.

you look around the empty space and start walking, your gaze moving along the corridor until you notice another hallway branching off to the side. you hesitate for half a second, then head towards it, your footsteps soft against the floor.

you see two doors at the end of the hallway, identical, each one marked with a single X and you go straight to the one on the left. your heart starts beating faster so you take a breath, trying to steady yourself before you finally open the door and go inside the room.

there’s a chair in front of a small table, a mirror behind it and a door next to it, and there’s also a computer sitting on the table, already on. you close the door behind you, the sound sealing you in, and you just stand there, looking at your reflection before you finally move forward and sit down.

you pull the computer closer to you, your eyes landing on the screen where a chat window is already open, but empty, waiting for you. you rest your hands on the table, but you can feel them trembling as well as your own heartbeat which hasn’t slowed down since you read the message, or since you read the letter to be honest. 

you don’t know who you’re about to talk to and you don’t know what you’re supposed to ask. your thoughts scatter again and you swallow, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. you don’t want to waste this but you also don’t know how not to. after a few seconds of hesitation, you start typing and send the first question.

you: what doesn’t han like? 

okay, it’s simple, safe, you can do this. the reply comes quickly, almost immediately.

ex: he doesn’t like rude people and those who don’t know how to behave

you read it again and then your fingers start moving, writing the second question.

you: what’s his favourite type of girl?

even as you write it and then send it, you know it’s not the best question, too vague and predictable, but your mind is still too restless to form something better. the reply comes just as fast as before.

ex: he likes girls that make him feel comfortable

your lips press together, comfortable, and you don’t know why that word sits with you but it does. you take a breath, thinking about the last question. this one is the most important one, or at least, it should be.  

you: what are three important things for him in a girl?

you hit send and again, the reply comes quickly.

ex: she has to be fun, have a good personality and a healthy mindset

you lean back, your eyes reading the message again, but the more you think about it, the more you realise how whoever is on the other side, didn’t hesitate to answer, not even a little. there were no pauses between messages, no typing dots appearing and disappearing, she answered you honestly, like she doesn’t feel the need to filter anything.

does that mean they dated a long time ago?

is she really over him?

you sit there, staring at the screen when your phone vibrates again and you look down immediately. 

exchange: please proceed through the connecting door. you will now answer questions about your ex 

of course you would now have to be on the other side, it makes total sense, but you hadn’t thought about that and now, you heart starts racing again, faster than before. you push your chair and stand up slowly. you glance at your reflection one more time then walk towards the door next to it. you open it and step inside the other room, closing the door behind you.

the room is exactly the same, with a table, a chair and a computer waiting for you again. you sit down and rest your hands on the table, waiting for the questions to start, waiting for the questions about your ex. you stare at the screen but it doesn’t take long until the first question appears.

ex’s date: did you date for a long time?

you blink, your fingers moving to write the answer but stopping because you’re not sure how much you’re allowed to say, you don’t know where the line is, so you keep it safe.

ex (you): yes, we did

you send the answer and your foot starts tapping against the floor before you even realise you’re doing it. the second question appears.

ex’s date: what doesn’t he like?

you let out a soft laugh, because you had asked the same question about han. you lean forward, your fingers moving more easily this time.

ex (you): he doesn’t like people who only think about themselves or that do things without thinking about the others

you reread it once and then send it. and then, much sooner than you had thought, the third question appears.

ex’s date: what made you fall for him?

your fingers freeze over the keyboard and everything else fades away - the room, the screen, her, you. that question isn't simple, you don’t know what to say. your gaze drops to the table for a second, your thoughts pulling you somewhere else entirely. memories you haven’t actively touched in a while but that have never really left. you close your eyes, sigh slowly, then open your eyes and start typing your answer.

ex (you): i fell for him because he’s someone very special

you pause, your throat closing and your eyes watering, but you continue writing.

ex (you): and he made me feel very special

you stare at your words and then send them, the message disappearing into the chat. and just like that, it’s done. your thoughts drift again as you wonder if your ex has already been here, you wonder what he may have said about you, if he hesitated, if he answered quickly, what he may have asked about his date, the answers he may have gotten. and more than anything, you wonder why this feels harder than you thought it would be.

when you’re back in your room, everything feels heavier, like the weight of the world is on your shoulders. after you had answered the questions about your ex, you had returned to the small room with your name, sitting there in silence again, waiting for everyone to be done. once everybody had finished, you all went back up together, but the energy was different from before, much different, like everyone had been left alone with something they weren’t ready to share yet. 

it’s one thing to be forced to live with your ex while seeing them meeting new people, but helping those people try to date your ex even though you’ve not been together for a while is a totally different one, much more complicated at that.  

lily is already in her bed, sitting cross-legged, watching as you move around, getting ready for the night.

“are you okay?”, she asks you gently, “today was… a lot… again”

you let out a quiet breath, then nod, “it really was, but i’m okay, just tired”

you’re just about to get into when your phones beep and you both look at them at the same time, as you reach for yours.

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

you stare at the screen as your thoughts pull you in different directions. you can’t help but think about han, but you still don’t know him, you haven't had your date yet. and it’s the same with the others, so, you decide to text your ex again, because there’s something there that still lingers stronger than anything new.

‘hope you had a good day today’

you send it and then place your phone on the bedside table and finally slide into bed, pulling the sheets over you, your body finally starting to feel the weight of the day. lily turns off the lights not long after and when your eyes close, your phone beeps again. you reach for it again and see a new message.

‘i’m really happy to see you again’

you stare at the words when another message appears.

exchange: your ex chose you

something in your chest tightens and softens at the same time. you place your phone back down on the bedside table again and turn onto your side, your eyes closing again. and this time, sleep comes a little easier even if your thoughts don’t fully quiet.

you wake up earlier the next morning, your body still a little tired but more rested than the night before. for a moment, you stay in bed, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts settle before they start running again. 

the text from last night lingers in your mind, just like your chats in the x room, but you don’t let yourself sit on those thoughts for too long, instead, you push the sheets back and get up, leaving your bed as quiet as you can, without disturbing lily who’s still sleeping. 

you leave your room and go to the kitchen, where you find yeong and hae, already dressed, finishing what looks like a quick breakfast. 

“good morning”, yeong says, looking at you.

“good morning”, you say.

“you’re up early”, hae adds.

“yeah, couldn’t sleep much more”, you huff out a quiet laugh, “are you guys leaving?”

“yeah”, hae says, “we have to go to work”

“the others are still sleeping”, yeong says.

you stay there talking as they finish their breakfast and once they do, they start gathering their things, walking towards the door.

“good luck today, see you later”, you say.

“you too!”, hae says.

“bye y/n”, yeong says.

when they leave, you’re left alone in the kitchen and you decide to prepare breakfast, nothing too complicated because well, you’re not really good at cooking and you don’t want to burn it or whatever. you start cooking something simple and when you’re almost done, you hear someone coming to the kitchen, footsteps getting closer. 

you look up just as minho walks in, looking a little more awake than you expected, though there’s still a hint of sleep in his face. he pauses when he sees you, and the food.

“you made breakfast?”, he asks.

you nod, smiling at him, “yeah”

“i thought you didn’t like cooking”, he says as he sits down at the counter.

“and i don’t but…”, you say, “i wanted to try”, you pick up a plate and hold it out to him, “oh, and this is for you”

he looks at it, then back at you, a faint question on his face. 

“as a thank you”, you add, your voice a bit lower, “for yesterday”

“oh…”, he takes the plate, “you didn’t have to”

“i know”, you say, “but i wanted to”

he nods one, a soft smile on his face now, “thank you”

you sit down across from him, the morning light filtering through the windows behind him.

“how did you sleep?”, he asks you.

“better than the first night. and you?” “good. i fell asleep as soon as i got into bed”, he says, “yesterday was… a lot”

you let out a small breath and sigh, “yeah, it really was”

you look at him as he eats what you prepared for him and decide to tease him a bit, “i know this isn’t a masterpiece and i’m cooking for a real, professional chef, but i hope you like it”

he laughs harder than you’ve seen him these past days and looks at you, his eyes big and bright, “it’s really good, don’t worry y/n, thank you”

you laugh too, looking at the counter, “i don’t know if your offer to help still stands but…”

“i’d love to, just say when and i’ll help you cook whatever you want”, he says, still laughing.

you look at him, both of you smiling softly and then you hear footsteps again, getting closer and closer. lily walks in first, her hair slightly messy, then seungmin walks in too, stretching as he steps into the kitchen.

“something smells good”, lily says.

you smile faintly, “i made breakfast”

“god, i’m so hungry i could eat the entire kitchen”, seungmin says, already walking to get a plate.

once they get their plates ready, the four of you eat your breakfast together, the conversation flowing more easily now, bouncing between all of you. seungmin talks about needing to buy a few things for the house, glancing towards the fridge as he does.

“we should go to the market, we’re already running low on some stuff”, he says.

“i can go with you”, lily offers quickly.

“me too”, you add.

“great”, he nods, “we can go once we finish”

and that’s what you do, once you finish breakfast, you clean everything and then head to your rooms to get ready. lily and you prepare quickly, both of you helping each other to pick out what to wear, but just as you’re about to leave, she changes her mind.

“i think i’ll stay here”, lily says, looking at you, “i have some things i need to finish for work”

you pause, “are you sure?”

she nods, “yeah. you go, don’t worry”

there’s a small shift in your chest but you don’t question it, “okay”

you finish getting ready and head back to the living room. seungmin is already there, waiting with the car keys in his hand. han and chan are there too, sitting on the sofa, and they all look up as you walk in.

“lily is staying in, but i’m ready if you are”, you tell seungmin, who nods his head and stands up.

then you look at han before you speak again, “we’re gonna buy some things, but i’ll be back in time for our date”

han nods his head, a smile on his face, “okay, don’t worry. i have to go to the studio to finish something but it won’t take long”

“okay, and are we going straight to the restaurant?”, you ask him.

a small grin appears on his face, “oh, no, i have a surprise, you’ll just have to wait and see”

you let out a breath, laughing, but it’s more a mix of nervous and curiosity, “okay, then i guess i’ll see you later”

he nods again and both him and chan wave you goodbye as you turn towards seungmin, who’s already looking at you, “ready?”

he nods his head, “yeah, let’s go”

you leave the house and then walk together towards one of the cars the show has organised for you. you sit in the passenger seat, adjusting your seatbelt as seungmin pulls the car out. you focus on the view outside the car - the trees, the shops, the people walking by, just anything that keeps your thoughts from drifting too far. 

“we don’t need much by the way”, he says, breaking the silence as he looks at the road ahead, “just a few things for the kitchen”

you turn slightly towards him, “that’s good. i don’t think i’m ready for a full grocery run”

a faint smile appears on his lips, “you don’t look like you’d survive one”

you narrow your eyes just a little, “excuse me?”

“sorry, sorry”, he says, laughing softly.

you let out a quiet scoff, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at your lips, “you’re exaggerating”

“i’m not”

“you are”

he glances at you briefly, fully laughing now, “okay, sorry”

you shake your head, looking back out the window before you speak again, “so where are we going?”

“there’s a market nearby”, he says, “it’s not big but it has everything we need”

“is it one of those with street stands?”, you ask.

“yeah”

you nod your head, “okay”

“you’re not gonna cook again today are you?”

you laugh and turn to look at him properly this time, “okay, now, what kind of question is that?”

he laughs louder this time and shrugs his shoulders, “i don’t know, you said you don’t like cooking but you made breakfast today, so i guess that’s just as far as you’re gonna go today”

you press your lips together, thinking, then turn around to sit properly again.

“... yeah, that’s actually true”

he laughs again and you look at him quickly, a smile on your face too. you get to the market sooner than you thought, and when you get there, it’s already full of people. small stands line the street, filled with fresh products, snacks, flowers, all kinds of things stacked in neat and colourful displays. there’s noise everywhere, music somewhere, voices overlapping, vendors calling out, bags rustling.

you step out of the car and take a moment to look around. 

“it’s really nice”, you say.

“it is”, seungmin says and then starts walking, “come on”

you follow him, keeping pace easily. he seems to know exactly where he’s going, stopping at the right stands without hesitation. you move from one to another, picking up what you need - meat, some vegetables, a few packaged things as well as some extras you didn’t plan on buying but end up taking anyway.

at one point, you both reach for the same thing at the same time and your hands brush. you both pause, looking at each other quickly, then pull back.

“you can take it”, he says.

“no, you take it”, you say.

“you grabbed it first”

“no, it was you”

he looks at you again and you slowly let it go, “okay, fine”

you smile faintly, as he takes it, “thank you”

“don’t get used to it”

you glance at him, “too late”

he shakes his head, but there’s no real annoyance there. the rest of it goes like that with you talking and teasing each other as you walk through the stands, getting the last things you need. by the time you’re done, the bags are almost full, so you start heading back towards the car and that’s when you pass the flower stand.

you don’t stop there, but you slow down just enough to have a look. there are rows of flowers filling the space, everything is full of bright colours and soft petals, but your eyes settle on one specific bouquet.

pink and white tulips. your favourite.

you don’t say anything, you just look at them for a second longer and then keep walking. once you get to the car, you place the bags in the back seat and move to open your door.

“y/n, wait”, seungmin says suddenly.

you look at him, “what?”

“i forgot something”, he says quickly, “i’ll be back”

you blink, “now?”

“yeah, it will just take a second”

before you can ask anything else, he’s already walking back towards the market. you watch him go, a little confused, then lean against the car as you wait for him. the noise from the market feels more distant from here, softened by the space between you and it. a few minutes pass before you see him again, walking towards you with flowers in his hands. two bouquets to be exact.

you straighten slightly and as he gets closer, you can see them clearly, a bigger one and a smaller one. he stops in front of you, as he hands you the bigger bouquet.

“these are for the house”, he says.

you take it, still a little confused. then he lifts the second one slightly - pink and white tulips. your breath catches and you look at him, surprised.

“and these are for you”, he says.

“for me?”

he nods his head, like it’s nothing. for a second, you don’t know what to say, so you take them carefully, your fingers touching the petals soflty. you look down at the flowers, then back at him, a smile on your face.

“thank you, seungmin”

it feels too simple, but it’s honest and he nods once, like that’s enough for him, then turns to open your door.

“let’s go”, he says.

you nod, still holding both bouquets close to you as you get into the car. he closes the door and then walks to the driver’s seat, closing his door once he gets inside. you sit with the bouquets on your lap, your fingers wrapped around the stems, as seungmin starts the car and leaves the market. you glance out the window, watching the streets pass by, but your attention keeps drifting back to the flowers and then, you adjust them a bit, making sure they don’t get crushed. 

“are you writing something right now?”

you look at him, a little surprised by the question, “no, not really”

“no?”, he says, briefly glancing at you before looking back at the road.

you shake your head, “i’m kind of stuck. i haven’t been able to write anything decent lately”

“writer’s block?”, he asks.

“yeah”, you sigh, “it’s annoying, because i want to write, but nothing feels… right”

he hums, thinking about it, “that sound frustrating”

“it is”, you say, leaning your head against the seat.

there’s a small pause and then he speaks again.

“you could write about this”

you turn your head to look at him, “this?”

“the show”, he says, “the people, everything that’s happening here. it’s basically a story already”

you let out a laugh, “you make it sound very simple”

“i mean… it kind of is”, he shrugs.

you tilt your head, studying him for a second, “so you want me to write a book about you?”

he scoffs softly, “i didn’t say that”

“you implied it”

“i didn’t”

“you did”, you insist, a small smile forming on your lips, “you wanna be the main character”

he looks at you again, “if anything, i’d be the most normal one”

“i don’t think so”

he shakes his head, laughing, “you’re overthinking it”

“or maybe you’re underestimating your role”, you say.

he doesn’t answer that, but the small smile stays on his face. when you arrive at the house, you step out first, adjusting your grip on the flowers before following him inside. when you walk into the living room, you see chan sitting on the sofa, his phone in his hand, and he looks up as soon as he hears you, leaving his phone immediately.

“hey”, he says, sitting up slightly.

“hi”, you both say.

he glances briefly at seungmin, then back at you, “how was it?”

“good”, you say, setting the bouquet that seungmin bought for the house on the table, “it wasn’t too busy”

“yeah, it was nice”, seungmin says, putting away what you had bought.

you look around the room, “where is everyone?”

“lily and minho already left”, chan says, “they had their date earlier. and the others aren’t back yet. han is not here either”

you don’t say anything to that, just nod your head, your gaze dropping briefly to the flowers you’re still holding before looking at chan again. then, his eyes land on your bouquet and he leans forward just a little, looking at them more intensely.

“from the market?”, he asks.

you nod your head, “yeah, um… seungmin got them for me” 

he nods once, leaning back again, “they’re beautiful”

you nod your head again, because his words are simple, but there’s something different in the way he says them, something that you almost miss.

“anyway”, you say, “i’m gonna go to get ready”

you go to your room and once you’re there, you place the tulips carefully on the table next to your bed, adjusting them so they sit properly before turning your attention to getting ready. you move a little faster than usual, your thoughts drifting more than you’d like until a knock on your door interrupts you.

“yeah?”, you call out.

the door opens a bit and han peeks in.

“hey”, he says, smiling softly, “i’m back”

“oh, hi”, you say, turning towards him as you smile at him.

“i’m going to get ready, so… take your time”, he says.

you nod, ”okay”

“i’ll see you in a bit”

“yeah”

he closes the door and you finish getting ready shortly after, taking one last look at yourself before leaving your room. you walk to the living room and chan looks up immediately when he sees you.

“oh, you’re ready?”, he asks you.

“yeah, i’m fast”, you say, both of you laughing as you sit down on the sofa with him.

you look at him and see he’s trying to say something but hesitates until he finally speaks.

“so, the market… did you buy a lot of things?”, he says.

“not much really”, you say, “just some meat, snacks… nothing too exciting”

he hums softly, “and you went with seungmin, just you two?”

“yeah, lily was going to come with us, but she stayed here at the end”

he hums again and nods slowly, “mmhm”

before you can think too much about it, you hear footsteps echoing from the hallway and you both turn to see han walking in, running a hand though his hair.

“okay, i’m ready”, he says, looking at you. 

your heart picks up slightly, as you start to get a bit nervous.

“okay”, you say, standing up.

chan watches the two of you for a second, then smiles faintly, “have fun”

you glance at chan briefly, then back at han and then you leave the house together. the place is not far from the house, so you decide to go walking. you stay close to han, the sky slowly getting darker as you walk to your first stop.

“so…”, han says, looking at you with a wide smile, “nervous?”

you let out a quiet laugh, “a little”

“me too”, he says, laughing too, “i didn’t think i would be, but… yeah”

that makes you smile more genuinely and you continue walking, just talking and joking here and there until han stops.

“okay, we’re here”, he says, gesturing towards a building close to the restaurant you’re supposed to go to.

you step inside and you find that it’s a bar, bright and full of energy. there are pool tables, dart boards, arcade machines lining the walls, and people just laughing and playing. your eyes widen when you take everything in.

“this is… not what i expected”, you say.

han grins, watching your reaction, “good or bad?”

“good”, you answer laughing, “really good”

“okay”, he says, visibly relieved, “i figured it would be easier to… you know, not sit across from each other in silence right away”

“that’s actually really smart”, you say.

“i have my moments”

you laugh again and then move to start playing. you choose darts and han hands you one, stepping back a bit.

“ladies first”

you narrow your eyes playfully, “are you going to regret this?”

“probably”, he laughs.

you throw the first one and… it’s terrible, you’re really bad at this but he claps anyway.

“nice!”

“don’t lie”, you laugh.

“i’m not lying”, he says, grabbing his own dart, “here. watch this”

he throws and he’s even worse than you and you burst out laughing immediately.

“okay, you have to be kidding me”, you say.

he rubs the back of his neck, laughing with you, “that was warm up”

“sure it was”

the games keep going like that - darts turn into pool, pool turns into arcade games and somewhere along the way, the initial awkwardness disappears completely. you find yourself laughing more than you expected, teasing him as if you have known each other for years. at one point he misses in one of the games you’re playing and he groans dramatically.

“oh no, what happened?”, you tease him, “i thought you were the pro here”

he looks at you, pretending to be offended, “what? i never said that?”

“uh yes, you did, like... 20 seconds ago”

he narrows his eyes then laughs again. after some more games, both of you out of breath and laughing, you decide it’s time to go to the restaurant for your date.

“okay”, he says, “should we actually go and eat?”

“probably, yeah”, you nod.

you leave the bar together and then walk the short distance to the restaurant. when you get there, you sit down, across from each other and look at the menu to decide what to get.

“i think i’m gonna get a pizza”, he says.

“i don’t know if i want that or pasta”, you say.

“maybe we could share, if you want?”, he asks you.

“yeah! why not?”, you smile at him agreeing. 

when the food arrives later, the conversation continues naturally. you talk about things you hadn’t talked about in the house yet - favourite foods, random habits, things you did when you were little, what you do when you’re not working. all of that turns into personal stories and then, those stories turn into things you wouldn’t normally talk about on a first date, but because nothing is normal in this show, this date is not a normal first date. 

“how is it for you?”, he asks you, “you know… living with your ex”

you hesitate for a second, then answer honestly, “weird”

he nods, “yeah”

“but also… i don’t know”, you continue, playing with your fork, “it’s part of the experience, i guess”

“yeah”, he agrees, “it is”

you look at him, “and how is it for you?”

he leans back, thinking a bit, “it’s okay. we ended things well”

“really?”, you ask.

“yeah”, he nods, “we’re on good terms. i wouldn’t say we’re best friends but… yeah, we get on”

there’s no hesitation in his voice and you can tell he’s being completely honest.

“that’s nice”, you say.

“it is”, he says, “makes things easier here”

you nod, taking that in, as he looks at you from his seat.

“and what about you?”

your fingers still against the fork and your gaze drops to your plate for a moment before you look at him again.

“it’s…”, you start, then stop, searching for the right word.

“complicated?”, he offers gently.

you sigh, “yeah. complicated”

he nods, not rushing you.

“we didn’t end on really bad terms”, you continue, your voice quieter now, “but it wasn’t… easy either”, you glance down again, then back at him, “there’s still a lot there. and coming here, seeing him again… i don’t know”

you give him a small, almost unsure smile.

“i’m glad i came, i really am”, you add, “i now think i needed to. but it doesn’t make things simple”

han listens the whole time, his expression open, not trying to interrupt you as you speak.

“yeah”, he says after a second, “it’s not something you can just… switch off. even if you wanted to”

you nod slowly, “exactly”

“if you ever need someone to talk to”, he says, “or… i don’t know, a shoulder to cry on or something… i’m here”

you blink at him and then let out a small laugh, the emotion easing just a little.

“thank you, han, really”, you tilt your head, smiling a bit more now, “and same goes for you”

he grins at that, “good, i will take you up on that”

“please don’t cry after our first date”, you tease him.

“no promises”, he shoots back.

you both laugh and right then, a waiter approaches your table.

“would you like any dessert?”, he asks.

you look at han, then back at the waiter.

“i’ll have the cheesecake”, you say.

han’s head snaps towards you immediately, “no way”

you blink, caught off guard, “what?”

he looks genuinely excited, “you like cheesecake?”

you laugh, “umm, yeah?”

he leans back, laughing again, “this is insane”

“how is that insane?”, you ask him, amused.

“because i love cheesecake! like, it’s my favourite thing ever”

you grin, “okay… and?”

“and i’ve finally found my cheesecake partner!”

you laugh again, shaking your head, “that’s what it takes?”

“absolutely”, he nods, completely serious, “this is a very important moment for me. this is everything! you’ll understand it someday”

you roll your eyes lightly, but you’re still smiling even as the waiter walks away.

when you and han get back to the house, the lights are already on and you can hear voices drifting from the living room. as soon as you step inside the house, yeong looks up.

“you’re back?”, she asks.

you nod, slipping off your shoes, “yeah. are we late?”

“no”, she says as you get to the living room, “we just got here too”

you look at the living room and find that everyone is already there, sitting on the table together. you walk over and take a seat next to yeong and han sits on your other side, at the edge of the table, in front of chan.

“so?”, lily asks, “how was it?”

you laugh softly, looking at han before answering, “good. we had fun”

“yeah”, he says, “we played, talked and ate… a lot”

“same here”, yeong says, nodding, “it was good”

everyone talks a bit about their date, but just short answers and small smiles, everyone clearly aware of what you’re talking about but not wanting to go too deep into it. after a moment, you lean back, looking around.

“so… what do we do now?”, you ask.

minho glances towards the stairs, “i saw some games in the attic earlier”

lily immediately lights up, “yes please! let’s go get them”

they head upstairs together, leaving the rest of you sitting quietly in the living room. you shift in your seat, your fingers brushing against the edge of the table, while different conversations start and stop around you until lily and minho return with a box.

“what is that?”, hae asks.

lily sets it down with a grin, “something fun”

minho opens it, pulling out wooden blocks.

“jenga?”, you ask.

“not just jenga”, he replies.

he flips one of the pieces over, showing the writing on it and you lean in to look at it.

“oh”, you say, already smiling, “so it’s that kind of game”

“exactly”, lily says, smirking, “come on, let’s play”

the tower is set up in the middle of the table, and all you gather closer. minho goes first, pulling a block carefully.

‘say one good thing about yourself’

he rolls his eyes, “okay, um, i’m… reliable”

“that’s it?”, seungmin teases him.

“it said one thing, not a full list”, minho shoots back.

you all laugh and then, the game continues, more blocks, more questions.

‘what’s your favourite thing to do?’

“sleeping”, han says, no hesitation.

the room fills with laughs again as you continue playing and then lily pulls a block, reads it, then freezes for a second before bursting into laughter.

“what?”, you ask.

she looks up, barely containing herself.

‘look at the person in front of you and seduce them for five seconds’

the reaction is immediate.

“no way”, han says, laughing so hard he almost falls off the chair.

“come on! you have to do it!”, yeong laughs.

lily looks up, straight at seungmin.

“oh my god”, you laugh, covering your mouth.

seungmin blinks once, clearly not expecting that, then leans back slightly, bracing himself. lily straightens, flipping her hair, her voice dropping into something completely exaggerated.

“seungmin…”

the room explodes into laughter before she even finishes.

“you look really good tonight”

seungmin stares at her for a second before he breaks into a laugh as he tries to hide his face, “okay, that’s enough”

“no, she has to do five seconds!”, han protests.

“she did more than five”, seungmin argues, laughing too. 

the mood shifts after that, lighter and louder, and the game moves faster, more playful and more daring.

‘do you have any hidden preferences?’

everyone laughs when seungmin turns bright red before he answers, “i don’t mind when i’m not in control… i’ll leave it at that”

everyone screams and laughs as seungmin tries to hide again and the questions continue, some more vague and others surprisingly honest and filthy, all of them met with teasing and laughs. then, chan pulls a block and reads it as a smile appears on his face.

‘sit next to the person you like’

the room react immediately.

“okay, wow”, han drags out.

“this is getting interesting”, yeong laughs.

everyone is watching him, waiting to see what he’s gonna do and then he looks up.

“han”, he says casually, “let’s switch seats”

everyone goes quiet, and you hear someone gasp at the same time that han groans. 

“no! don’t take me away from my cheesecake partner”, he says.

chan raises an eyebrow, “do you wanna fight?”

han looks at him, then at you, then back at him again. he sighs, shaking his head.

“i’m sorry, y/n”, he says, looking at you now with a grin, “i can’t fight him. look at him!”

you laugh but you can feel your heart is starting to race, “go”

he stands up, still muttering under his breath as they switch places and then, chan sits down next to you. 

closer, much more closer than han was.

your heart picks up even more, your body more aware of everything around you. no one says anything until lily claps her hands.

“okay! let’s continue!”

but it’s not the same anymore because now, the real game has started.

the library

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟

if you want me to add you to the taglist let me know in the comments ☺️

dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷

permanent taglist: @v3n7s @emmiesoverthemoon @kloversung @inniemeenymineymoe @hathoryan6868 @cherrycheolie @sheerfreesia007 @emmalabo @hanjinology @luvvvivi @fantasy-addict354 @applesrpeak @lavunyan @channiesswift @skinnyjeans-tanktops @wonderlandforthelonley-blog @bellacj1 @karmaminho @hyunjinxxs @xallyouneedislovexx @niki-the-american @skzbyemmy @kpopishgirlie @daisylove3 @bunbunbl0gs @miniseungkimcami @geni-627 @bsk-brn @pvppymin @viisstrayy @ann-gell @mitsuri1221 @lost-in-the-stars03 @channlust @staygenesblog @persassyismysecrettwin @tsunderelino @minastronaut @minhocinema @staytinycassichu @nyaaa-cat @bangchansnipples @pinknymphkisses @wompwompgang @inlovewithstraykids @sturnsxbitvh @enchantedlov3r2 @certainstarfishmiracle @lixxstay

[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: angst

wc: 2.4k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

part 1 >

the lights of the cameras are small, almost unnoticeable, but you feel them like a pulse against your skin. they blink quietly from different corners of the restaurant, red and steady, reminding you that everything you do, every breath, every shift of your fingers against the table, every flicker of hesitation is being recorded. 

you try not to look at them, but you are aware of all of them in the same way you are aware of your own heartbeat inside your chest, constant and impossible to ignore.

you’re sitting by the window, and you don’t remember choosing this seat, but it feels like something you would normally do. you’re close enough to the glass to watch people passing by, and you’re far enough from the door to have a few extra seconds before he reaches you when he enters. people walk past the restaurant without knowing what’s going on inside, without knowing that something unfinished is about to be reopened.

your hands rest around a glass of water you haven’t touched yet but they feel colder than they should. you shift slightly in your seat then stop yourself when you remember the cameras - too much movement feels wrong, but sitting still feels even worse. you wonder, briefly, how this looks on camera, if you seem nervous, if all of this is obvious, if you should leave before he comes, if you should stay there.

it has been a year since everything between you ended. a little over 365 days since your perfect world, the one you had been living in for two and a half years, ended in the blink of an eye. 

you still think about it sometimes, how complete and unbreakable it all felt while you were in it. how easy it was to believe you had already found the person you were supposed to build something with. you were good together, not just good, you were perfect together. everyone could see it - your friends, your family, his family, everyone that knew you two. you knew how he liked his coffee, the exact tone of his voice when he was pretending not to be tired, and he knew you just as well. or at least, that’s what you two thought.

your grip tightens slightly around the glass when you think about it because the truth is, somewhere along the way, your perfect world started to break when things stopped being said. things you thought you would bring up later, things he probably thought the same about. you would tell yourself you would talk about them another time, but that time just kept moving further and further away, until one day, it all became too much. 

you exhale slowly when the memory of the fight comes back the way it always does. words that were said too quickly, too sharpy. words that none of you meant but still landed exactly where they hurt the most. you remember the sound of your own voice, louder than you expected, and you remember his voice, on the edge of breaking down, like you had never seen him before.

you two had been holding back for a long time and then, in the middle of the fight, you realised that it wasn’t just that, that it was everything you hadn’t said, spilling all at once. you remember the way the anger drained out too quickly, and the silence that followed after that.

you remember him looking at you with tears in his eyes, just like you were looking at him, and that was the moment you two realised you needed to break up. it was not because you had stopped loving each other, but because something between you was no longer working the way it was supposed to and you both knew that loving each other was not enough to fix it, even though you both hoped it was. 

neither of you wanted that ending, you didn’t think you would ever get to that, but neither of you could see another way forward.

your fingers press lightly against the glass as you try to stop the memory from repeating again and again. you had spent a whole year learning what it felt like to not reach for him, catching yourself in small moments - wanting to call him, wanting to send a text, wanting to tell him something that had happened to you, wanting to tell him something that no one else would understand.

a whole year of stopping yourself.

you wonder if he stops himself too, if there are moments where he almost-

you stop the thought before it finishes and you look at the chair across from you, still empty, still waiting. 

you shake your head, this is a bad idea, you shouldn’t have agreed to this, you should’ve said no. you had declined at first, that day when your friend hyunjin called you, saying he wanted to tell you something about the new dating show he was producing in his new company. you remember the way his voice sounded on the phone, too casual for what he was asking. 

“it’s a new dating show, just four ex-couples living together. we wanna see if people go back to their ex, find someone new, or just go there to… maybe live the experience and see what happens. i know i might be asking too much, but i want you two to be one of the couples that go there”

that’s what he had told you that day and you remember almost laughing at it. you had said no at first, or at least something close to it, you’re not really sure. he didn’t push you, he just explained it again, calmly and patiently, and when you went quiet on the other end, he took his chance.

“i’ll let you think about it, you don’t have to say anything yet. but just, think about the past year and what you want. you’re always saying you want to do something different and live new experiences that could inspire your books and, i don’t know… maybe this could be your chance to do that”

and that’s what you did, you thought about it long and hard, for even days maybe. you didn’t tell anyone at first, you just let it linger in the back of your mind, the idea showing up when you least expected it, refusing to fully leave.

and then one night, without overthinking it too much- 

you texted your ex.

a simple text, just to tell him what hyunjin had told you, to let him know about the show. you didn’t expect anything of it, or maybe you just wanted him to say no for the both of you, to make things easier.

but then he replied, agreeing to go to the show with you, agreeing to live with three other ex-couples, agreeing to live with you again. just like that.

you remember staring at your phone longer than you should have, rereading his text again and again, as if it was going to change with time, as if you were gonna get another text from him saying he had changed his mind and didn’t want you to contact him anymore.

but none of that happened, and everything else became too real after that because if he was willing to do this, then what does that mean? for you, for him, for what you once were, for whatever is still left between you. 

and that’s how you find yourself today, in the restaurant, waiting for him, waiting to see him again for the first time since you broke up, all eyes on you, the cameras recording every single thing that would later be aired to the world. your throat feels a little dry, so you finally take a sip of water, even though it doesn’t really help.

the door of the restaurant opens and you feel everything stopping when you realise he’s here. you consider not looking at him at first, just holding onto the moment before everything changes, but you know that would only delay it, and you didn’t come here to delay anything. so, slowly, you lift your gaze and meet his.

you are still sitting at the table, still holding onto a past that hasn’t fully let go of you, and he is here, walking towards you, every reaction captured by the cameras. he slows down when he reaches the table, and none of you moves, you just stay there, looking at each other.

a year passes again in that single moment, quiet and heavy, full of things that don’t need to be said to be understood. he looks the same, but there is something more careful in the way he holds himself now, something more restrained, like he is measuring every step even as he stands right in front of you. then, softly and almost instinctively, you both smile at each other, a reflex neither of you has unlearnt.

he pulls the chair back and sits down across from you, and the distance between you is nothing more than a table, but it might as well be something much larger. none of you says anything at first and it’s not exactly awkward, but it isn’t easy either. it’s like you’re both testing the ground before taking the next step.

“hi”, he’s the first one to break the silence.

his voice is quiet, softer than you remember, and you nod slightly, your fingers still loosely wrapped around your glass.

“hi”

he lets out a breath that almost turns into a laugh, like he doesn’t quite know what to do with this moment either.

“how have you been?”

it’s such a simple question, one that shouldn’t feel this complicated. you glance down at the table before answering, buying yourself just enough time to steady your voice, to stop your eyes from watering.

“i’ve been… okay”, you say.

it’s honest, but incomplete, and then you look back up at him.

“what about you?”, you continue.

he tilts his head slightly, considering it, “yeah. i’ve been okay too”

there’s something in the way he says it, something that mirrors your own answer so closely it almost feels rehearsed, even though you both know it isn’t. you nod your head and then you let the conversation move, asking questions here and there, answering when he’s the one that asks you, just making small talk.

there’s a constant awareness underneath everything - of where you are, of why you’re here, of what this is supposed to be, of what you were supposed to be. after a while, you find yourself watching him for a second too long, how his hands rest on the table and the way he looks at you before speaking. you don’t even realise you’ve gone quiet until he notices.

“what?”, he asks you.

you blink, then shake your head quickly, “oh, n-nothing”

a small smile pulls at his lips, like he doesn’t quite believe you, but he lets it go because he then remembers where you two are and how many cameras are capturing this right now. had this happened when you were together, there was no way he would have let this go, not until he had you crying tears of laughter from how much he was tickling you to get it out of you. 

you exhale softly, then lean back just a little. 

“i umm… thank you for coming”

the words come out more sincere than you expect and he frowns slightly, almost immediately.

“you don’t have to thank me”

“i do”, you insist gently, “i didn’t… i didn’t know if i should have said yes or no, or if you would even agree to do this”

“i did it for you”, he cuts in.

you look at him, surprised by how easily he says it. he looks at you and shrugs lightly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“i could just tell from your text”

“what do you mean?”, you ask him.

“you wanted to do this”, he says simply, looking away for a moment, “you just needed a little push, someone to say it was okay”

he meets your eyes then, steady and familiar, before he speaks again.

“and i am always going to support you”, he says, a quiet weight to his words, “that hasn’t changed”

you swallow, looking down briefly before nodding.

“... right”, you say, shifting in your seat, trying to ground yourself again, “and um… are you… ready for this?”

you look at him again and he tilts his head.

“the house?”

“yeah, just…”, you sigh and let out a small breath, closing your eyes as you continue, “the whole thing and… pretending we don’t know each other”

the words feel strange as soon as you say them and you almost want to take them back. he leans back in his seat, thinking about it.

“we just have to act like we’re strangers”, he says, “shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

there’s a hint of something in his tone - dry, almost teasing - but when you look at him again, you can see that it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and you huff out a quiet laugh.

“yeah. strangers”

the word sits between you, uncomfortable and untrue, and you both know it. 

“four ex-couples living together, and no one knows who dated who, no one knows anything about each other”, you continue, almost like you’re reminding yourself, not just talking to him, “we can’t slip up”

“we won’t”, he says, calm, certain.

you are still looking at him and there’s that steadiness, the same one that used to make everything feel simple and easy. you wonder if it still can.

“do you honestly think you’re ready?”, you ask him.

he pauses before he sighs and answers, “i guess we will have to find out”

there’s no overconfidence, no hesitation either, just honesty. the conversation drifts again after that - to the structure of the show, to what it might be like, how strange it will feel, how unpredictable it all is. but there’s something unfinished and waiting under your words, and you don’t say it but neither does he. you sit across from each other, the cameras capturing every second as your past quietly folds into the present. 

you can’t help but wonder what this place is going to bring back or what it might finally force you to let go of. because in just a few days, you will both walk into that house as strangers and for the first time since everything ended between you, since you got the call from hyunjin- 

you have no idea what you’re gonna be by the time this is over.

a/n: okay so i've been working on this one for MONTHS!!!! you have no idea how many times i've started planning this, drafting everything, then changing it again and again and omgggg it has been so hard but i just couldn't wait to finally post it!!!! this is for every single time that a skz member (most of the times it was han yeah) mentioned the tv show exchange* and i ended up watching it and... YOUR OWN SKZ EXCHANGE VERSION IS HERE 🥳

*exchange (transit love): it's a reality dating show where ex-couples live together, hiding their past relationships to either reunite or find new love

a/n2: you may have realised that the reader's ex is not named here and well, that's because it's for me to know and for you to find out 😎

the library

likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated 🌟

if you want me to add you to the taglist let me know in the comments ☺️

dividers by my darling @lariesographic 🩷

permanent taglist: @v3n7s @emmiesoverthemoon @kloversung @inniemeenymineymoe @hathoryan6868 @cherrycheolie @sheerfreesia007 @emmalabo @hanjinology @luvvvivi @fantasy-addict354 @applesrpeak @lavunyan @channiesswift @skinnyjeans-tanktops @wonderlandforthelonley-blog @bellacj1 @karmaminho @hyunjinxxs @xallyouneedislovexx @niki-the-american @skzbyemmy @kpopishgirlie @daisylove3 @bunbunbl0gs @miniseungkimcami @geni-627 @bsk-brn @pvppymin @viisstrayy @ann-gell @mitsuri1221 @lost-in-the-stars03 @channlust @staygenesblog @persassyismysecrettwin @tsunderelino @minastronaut @minhocinema @staytinycassichu @nyaaa-cat @bangchansnipples @pinknymphkisses @wompwompgang @inlovewithstraykids @sturnsxbitvh @enchantedlov3r2 @certainstarfishmiracle @lixxstay

[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 7.8k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< prologue | part 2 >

the taxi slows down before it fully stops, its tires crunching softly against gravel and for a moment you wish it wouldn’t, you wish it would just keep driving. you watch the house through the window, standing there, all clean lines and wide windows reflecting the pale sky, like it’s been waiting for you specifically. 

the driver says something you don’t fully catch, and you blink, pulling yourself back into your body.

“sorry?”, you say.

“we’re here”, he repeats gently.

right. here.

you nod, pay and thank him and then push the door open. you step out, your shoes meeting the ground with a soft thud and for a brief second you just stand there, staring at the house with your hand still resting on the door.

this is it.

you close the door, walk around to the trunk and pull your suitcase out. the handle clicks into place and you flinch a little at the sound. it’s stupid, there’s no one outside to hear it, but your nerves are already stretched thin, reacting to everything like it matters more than it should, because, in reality, everything about this matters. 

you wave goodbye to the driver, more out of habit than anything else, and watch as the taxi pulls away. it disappears faster than you expect, leaving you alone in front of the house with nothing but the faint hum of distant traffic and the sound of your own breathing. you consider getting back in, well not literally because there’s no taxi anymore, but you consider leaving.

you’ve thought about it so many times already that it doesn’t surprise you when the thought comes back again. you thought about it when hyunjin called you to talk about the show, when you told your ex, when you both agreed to do it, when you packed your things last night.

you’ve been thinking about it every single day. and yet, here you are.

your grip tightens on the suitcase handle as you exhale slowly, steadying yourself and then, you start walking towards the house. each step feels like you’re crossing some invisible line you won’t be able to step back over. the path is neat, carefully arranged, leading straight to the front door like there’s only one direction you’re supposed to go.

you reach the door and hesitate again, your reflection faintly visible in the glass, and you look more composed than you feel. you smooth your hair back, then your clothes, you grab your suitcase again and then let out one last breath. 

you know the cameras are already recording you, the people of the show told you that. which means you’ve stopped being just you ever since you left the taxi. now, you’re you on a show. you with rules, you with secrets.  

you push the door open before your thoughts make you run away and step inside. the interior is quiet and brighter than you expected. natural light spills in through large windows, stretching across polished floors and soft-coloured furniture. the space feels open, carefully designed to look effortless and beautiful and you know every detail has been thought through. 

you walk inside slowly, your suitcase rolling softly behind you and you let your eyes wander. the living room opens up in front of you, wide and inviting, with a large sofa facing a low table, a few scattered cushions, and subtle decorations that make the place feel lived in without being personal.

“hello?”, you ask softly, but there’s no answer, you’re the first one.

you move further in, your footsteps quiet but echoing, another sign that tells you that you’re alone. the cameras are there, you can feel them even when you don’t look directly at them. you glance towards the kitchen, drawn by the openness of it. it’s just as expansive as the rest, with clean countertops and a large island in the centre of it. you can already imagine people standing there, leaning against the counter, laughing and talking with each other.

you run your fingers along the edge of the island as you pass. everything feels a little too polished, like a stage waiting for actors, actors like you. your stomach twists at the thought.

you wonder who will walk through that door next. a girl? a boy? one of the other participants you’ve never met, who will just walk in here and introduce themselves and become part of your daily life faster than it should be possible? or-

your chest tightens again, sharper this time.

it could be him. it was one thing to see him last week, with all of the cameras and you talking and seeing each other for the first time in a year. but if he’s the next one to arrive today…

you swallow, your gaze drifting back towards the entrance as the idea settles heavily in your mind, impossible to ignore. the moment you see him, no matter if he’s the next one or not, you will have to act like you don’t know him, like there’s no history between you. you’re just strangers. the thought feels almost absurd when you try to hold it next to everything you lived together.

was this a good idea? 

the question comes back again and you walk back into the living room. you leave your suitcase and then lower yourself onto the sofa. you rest your hands in your lap, your fingers loosely intertwined, and stare ahead without focusing on anything in particular as the silence stretches. 

you think about how this will look from the outside - the first arrival, the quiet girl sitting alone, waiting. they won’t hear your heart beating so loud you think it will leave your chest, they won’t see the way your thoughts keep circling the same questions, they won’t hear the way your mind keeps going back to him, they won’t know how much of you is hoping and dreading that he’s the one who walks through that door next.

you suddenly hear it, the faint sound of the front door opening, and you straighten slightly, your hands tightening in your lap, your gaze flicking towards the hallway that leads to the entrance. you hold your breath as you hear the first footsteps, soft and careful.

one of the girls.

one of the boys.

him.

your chest tightens with something you don’t want to name and even though you don’t move from the sofa, every part of you feels alert, waiting. the footsteps come closer and then she appears.

a girl steps into the living room, pausing just slightly when she notices you. her eyes widen for a brief moment and then a visible wave of relief softens her expression, her shoulders dropping like she’s just let go of something she didn’t know she was holding. 

you feel it too, faintly, relief spreading quietly through your chest. it’s not him, good. you stand up and you both bow politely.

“hi”, he says, her voice gentle and you see there’s a small smile on her face, “i’m lily”

“hi”, you reply, returning the smile as best as you can, “i’m y/n”

she nods her head and then glances around the room again, as if she’s taking everything in now that she knows she’s not alone.

“it’s… really big”, she says, laughing out of nerves.

“yeah, it is”, you say, laughing too, “i got here some minutes ago. i haven’t seen all of it”

“that makes me feel better”, she says, smiling a little more easily now, “i thought i’d be the first one and just… wait here awkwardly”

you shake your head, laughing more, “don’t worry. i already did that for you”

that earns another laugh from her, this time more genuine, and the tension between you loosens just a little. you both sit down on the sofa, leaving a comfortable amount of space between you.

“so…”, she starts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “were you nervous coming here?”

you let out a small breath, glancing down at your hands before looking back up, “yeah. more than i thought i’d be”

“same”, she says, nodding, “i kept thinking about it on the way here, like… why did i agree to this?”

you huff out a quiet laugh, the words hitting a little too close, “i’ve been thinking that for a while”

she smiles again and there’s something understanding in her expression that makes it easier to sit there with her. the conversation flows slowly but steadily, both of you skirting around anything too deep, too revealing, because you can’t reveal too much about yourselves, at least not yet.

you’re in the middle of responding to something she says when the sound of the front door cuts through the air again and both of you pause. your head turns towards the hallway and lily does the same beside you, her posture straightening too.

you hear footsteps, heavier this time, and your heart picks up again. the footsteps get closer and closer, until a figure appears in the living room. it’s a boy this time, and he stops when he sees the two of you and gives a small, polite nod.

“hello”, he says. 

you and lily bow in greeting and he mirrors the gesture.

“i’m minho”, he adds, his voice even, controlled.

you introduce yourself and lily does the same. there’s something calm and unreadable about him but it doesn’t fully hide the slight tension in his shoulders, the careful way he moves when he leaves his suitcase next to yours and walks over to sit down on the sofa with you. you can see he’s nervous too.

three strangers in a too big, too quiet house. the silence settles again, like all three of you are waiting for someone else to be the one to break it. minho is the one who does, as he glances between you and lily and then speaks.

“are you two the first ones?”

his voice is calm, casual enough, but you can hear the hesitation there, like he’s choosing his words more carefully than necessary.

you nod, “yeah. i got here first and then lily came a bit after”

“i was really hoping i wouldn’t be the first one”, lily says.

minho laughs, “yeah, me too”

and then, you hear a soft, very audible sound breaking through the room - lily’s stomach. you blink and turn your head towards her at the same time as minho before the three of you laugh at the same time.

“oh god, i didn’t eat this morning, i’m sorry”, lily says, covering her face, her voice muffled behind her hands, “i was too nervous”

“don’t worry”, you say, still laughing.

minho tilts his head, looking at her, “i can cook something if you want”

the offer comes naturally, like it’s not a big deal at all, but it still makes you glance at him with a bit more interest. lily looks surprised too, her eyes widening just a little before she quickly shakes her head.

“no, it’s okay”, she says, “i’ll just wait until everyone gets here”

“are you sure?”, he asks her.

“yeah”, she nods, smiling, “it feels weird to start without everyone”

you glance at minho again, “you like cooking?”

he shrugs, casual, “yeah. i do it a lot”

“that’s nice”, you say, “i don’t. like, at all”

“same”, lily adds, laughing a little, “i mean i know how to cook, but i really don’t want to most of the time”

minho’s lips curve just slightly at that, like he finds it amusing but isn’t going to comment too much on it. you’re about to say something when you hear the door opening again, cutting the moment instantly.

the three of you go quiet, your attention shifting towards the hallway in sync. your heartbeat picks up again, the now familiar tightness returning to your chest before you can stop it. you see a boy stepping into the living room with a small, polite smile already in place, like he’s prepared for this moment. his eyes move across the room, landing on the three of you, and he gives a light bow.

“hi”, he says, “i’m seungmin”

you move with the others, bowing in return. your voice comes out steady when you introduce yourself, even though your heart hasn’t stopped beating faster and faster, you know it won’t calm down until everyone is here. seungmin places his suitcase next to the others and then walks over to sit in the armchair across the sofa, right in front of you. 

up close like this, it’s easier to see the details - the slight tension in his posture, the careful way he settles into the seat, how his hands rest together a bit too neatly, how he keeps pressing his lips together. he looks composed and calm, but it’s the same calm you had seen in minho as well, controlled and nervous.

“did you eat?”, lily asks seungmin, her tone light.

he shakes his head slightly, “um... not much”

“me neither”, she says with a small laugh, “i was too nervous”

seungmin nods in understanding, a faint smile touching his lips and then, you decide to speak again.

“do you like cooking?”

his gaze shifts to you, “i know how to, but i don’t really like it”

“just like us”, you say, gesturing between you and lily, the two of you laughing again.

the front door opens once more and you all wait there in silence until a girl appears this time. she stops the moment she sees all of you, like completely still. her eyes widen slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to walk into a full room and she just stands there taking everything in. you recognise the feeling immediately, that brief and overwhelming awareness that this is real, that you’re all here for the same reason.

she bows quickly, almost a little too fast, “hi, i’m hae”, she says, her voice quieter than the other so far, carrying a small awkward edge that makes something in your chest soften just lightly. 

you and the others greet her the same way, introducing yourselves one by one. she looks around again, as if trying to figure out where to go or what to do, and then she walks over to leave her suitcase next to the others. after a small hesitation, she moves towards the sofa, but instead of sitting near you, she chooses the far end, settling into the corner with a bit of distance between herself and the rest of you. 

“did you have trouble finding the place?, seungmin asks, his tone easy, directed towards minho first.

minho shakes his head, “not really. the directions were clear”

seungmin nods, glancing briefly towards lily and you as if including everyone in the conversation, “same here”

it’s simple, surface-level, but it works, it gives everyone something to hold onto.

“and you?”, he continues, this time looking towards hae.

she blinks, then shakes her head quickly, “no… it was okay”

“good”, he says, offering a small, polite smile, then his gaze moves between all of you, “have you looked around the house yet?”

you shake your head, “not really, just the living room and the kitchen”

seungmin hums softly, like he expected that answer.

“it’s big”, minho says, glancing around again, “i think we’ll get lost at some point”

that earns a faint smile from lily and even minho’s expression softens slightly. before anyone can say anything else, the door opens again. the sound is becoming familiar now, but it still sends a small jolt through you. your body reacts before you can stop it as your shoulders straighten slightly, your attention shifting once more towards the entrance as your heart speeds up again. 

another boy steps into the room with a natural ease that immediately feels different from the rest of you. he’s not completely relaxed, you can see a hint of nervousness in the way his gaze flickers across everyone, but he carries it differently.

“hi”, he says, smiling as he bows lightly, “i’m bang chan but you can call me chan or chris”

his tone is warm and open and it changes the atmosphere almost instantly. you introduce yourselves again, you honestly don’t remember how many times you’ve done that today, and he moves to join you in the living room once he sets his suitcase down with the others. he sits down on the sofa, just between hae and lily, but leaving a respectful space between all of them. he looks around  at all of you, his expression thoughtful for a second before it softens again. 

“so…”, he starts, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, “am i the only one that’s nervous or are you all just really good at hiding it?”

all of you laugh at that, and you miss the way chan’s eyes look at you quickly before he looks around the room again.

lily lets out a short laugh, “no, no, we’re definitely nervous”

“same”, seungmin adds quietly, clearing his throat and looking at the floor now.

you smile a little as you joke, “i think we’re all just pretending not to be” 

chan nods his head, “okay good, that’s better”, he glances between all of you again, “did you guys eat before coming here?”

“we were talking about that before, saying that we were too nervous to eat anything”, minho says.

“i barely ate too”, chan says.

hae gives a small nod again, she’s quieter than the rest, but she does it to be included in the group.

you glance towards the kitchen, “do you think there’s food already here?”

“probably”, lily says, “or maybe we have to go buy some?”

chan tilts his head, “we could check”

everyone agrees and there’s a small shift in the group, like the idea of actually doing something, anything, helps ease the stillness just a little more. you’re about to say something else when the door opens again, and the tension returns. you hear high heels against the floor, and it tells you everything before you even see her - the last girl is here.

she steps into the living room, her gaze moving across all of you, “hi, i’m yeong”

everyone introduces themselves and then chan gestures towards the kitchen, “we were just about to check if there’s anything to eat”

yeong glances in that direction, then back at the group, and nods her head, “okay, that sounds good”

you stand up with the others, following them towards the kitchen, everyone filling the space that had felt too still just moments ago. the kitchen feels different now with almost everyone in it, you don’t forget that the last boy has yet to arrive. all of you move around the island, opening cabinets and checking the fridge.

“there’s some stuff here”, hae says, crouching to look into a lower cabinet.

“there’s not a lot”, minho adds, scanning the shelves.

“ramen”, chan points out, pulling out a couple of packets, “that’s something”

“of course it is”, seungmin says lightly.

there are a few other things - bread, eggs, some vegetables, meat, basic ingredients. it’s not enough for anything elaborate but it’s enough to put together something quick. 

you find yourself standing near the counter, watching as everyone starts to fall into small roles without really discussing it. there’s quiet conversation, overlapping just enough to keep the silence from settling again, and yet, your thoughts drift as you glance at them one by one, almost without realising it.

some of them look more relaxed now, others are still nervous and you try to think about you and your ex and-

you stop yourself there. your gaze shifts away as your fingers brush against the edge of the counter. this is what you signed up for, a house full of strangers and questions and choices you’re not sure you’re ready for.

your chest tightens again, as the now familiar question surfaces again, was this a good idea?, quieter this time but no less present. you watch as minho opens the ramen packets, casually asking who wants what and for a moment, it almost feels normal, like you’ve done this a million times before. but underneath it, your thoughts keep moving and circling, never quite setting, because nothing about this is going to be simple.

by the time evening settles in, the house already feels different. not completely familiar, not yet at least, but it feels less distant than it did when you first met this morning. eating together had gone better than you expected and after that, the energy naturally dipped and you all moved to unpack, see the house, sit alone for a while and just breathe. 

there were four rooms in the house which meant you all had to share. you end up sharing with lily and you’re quietly grateful for it because there’s something about her that makes you feel at ease. you talk a little while unpacking and it’s enough to settle some of the nerves in your chest.

everyone is nice, really nice, but you had expected something more awkward or forced. but instead it was just good, really good even. which almost makes it worse because it lulls you into forgetting, just for a second what his actually is.

now, the house is alive again, and you make your way back into the kitchen. one by one everyone gathers again, naturally falling into place like you’ve already created a routine. you step closer to the counter, glancing around.

chan is already there, his sleeves pushed up as he looks through what you can have for dinner. minho stands nearby, leaning against the counter as he looks too. lily joins you a second later before looking around as if deciding where to help. seungmin stands next to you and just when he’s about to speak, the front door opens again.

everyone pauses and looks at each other, the last boy is finally here. you hear footsteps quickly this time, faster and slightly rushed. a boy appears then, breathing just a little heavier than the rest of you had when you arrived.

“hi- sorry”, he says, bowing quickly, “i’m han and i’m really sorry i’m so late”, his voice is warm but hurried as he continues, “my job was… busy today. it took longer than i expected. sorry”

he bows again but you all stop him, there’s no need to apologise.

“it’s fine”, lily says with a small smile, “we were just about to start dinner”

“yeah”, chan says, “you didn’t miss anything important”

han lets out a small breath, visibly relieved, “okay, good. i felt bad”

you introduce yourselves again and han nods after each of you, his shoulders relaxing. he looks at his suitcase and then at you again.

“so… um…”, han starts.

“oh, you’re gonna share a room with me, here, let me show you”, seungmin says before he moves to han and the two of them go to their shared room. 

everyone’s here, no more arrivals, no more waiting. all of you move to start dinner again and han slips into it easily despite arriving late, offering to help and joking when he almost grabs the wrong thing, earning a few laughs in return. when everything is ready, you all move to the table together.

there's a brief moment of hesitation - who sits where, how close, how far - but it passes quickly. chairs scrape softly against the floor as everyone settles in, plates and bowls being passed around, the clatter of utensils filling the space. you sit between lily and yeong, all of the girls on one side and all of the boys on the side. you start eating in silence but it doesn’t take long for the conversation to start again.

“we should probably figure out chores”, yeong says, glancing around the table.

“yeah”, seungmin agrees, “this place won’t stay clean on its own”

han lets out a small laugh, “i was hoping it would”

“it definitely won’t”, lily says smiling.

“so what, like… rotating?”, chan suggests, “or assigned roles?”

“rotating sounds better, so no one gets stuck with the same thing”, you say.

“agreed”, seungmin says.

there’s a small pause as everyone considers it, then nods follow.

“and groceries”, hae says quietly, “we’ll need more food”

“that too”, minho says, “maybe tomorrow? whoever’s free can go”

“and dinner”, han says, his gaze moving between all of you, “should we… eat together everyday?”

it’s a simple suggestion but it carries something deeper, a kind of quiet commitment.

“i think that would be nice”, you say.

“yeah”, lily agrees, “everyone will be busy during the day with their jobs and stuff, so dinner would be nice”

“then we can rotate cooking too”, chan says, “like two people each night?”

everyone agrees and then, when you finish eating, you hear the doorbell ringing again. the sound cuts through the room so suddenly that for a second, no one reacts. all of you pause almost at the same time, small movements freezing mid-action and conversations dropping off mid-sentence.

“is… someone else coming?”, lily asks quietly. 

no one answers at first and it almost feels like the beginning of the day again, that same anticipation and uncertainty creeping back in. 

minho pushes his chair back and stands up, “i’ll go and check”

he heads towards the front door and the rest of you stay where you are, listening, the house feeling too quiet again. there’s the faint sound of the door opening and then closing. minho reappears a few seconds later, something in his hand.

an envelope.

the moment you see it, you recognise it immediately. somewhere in the back of your mind you knew this would come, but actually seeing it, here, now, makes it real in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. 

he looks at all of you, holding it up slightly, “it’s for us”

he reaches into the envelope and pulls out several smaller ones, one for each of you. your eyes drop to them, scanning, and your breath catches when you see your name written on one. a memory flashes in your mind - sitting alone days ago in your apartment, a pen in hand as you stared at a blank page without writing anything. some of the people on the show had contacted you and said you needed to write an introduction of your ex. 

you remember how hard that felt. how impossible it was to decide what to say, what to not say. 

minho starts handing them out one by one. all of you take them with different expressions, different reactions, some of you are more hesitant, others are more curious. once everyone has their envelope, you all sit there, waiting until someone decides to actually do something.

“so…”, chan starts, “should we read them?”

then lily nods slowly, “out loud?”

“probably”, minho says, “i think that’s the point”

no one argues but there’s a shared understanding, unspoken but clear, that this is part of it, the beginning of everything unraveling.

lily ends up going first. she hesitates before opening the envelope, her fingers careful as she slides the paper out. you watch her expression as she scans the first lines, the way her lips press together briefly before she starts reading, her voice soft at first, slightly unsteady.

‘lily is the first girl i had a serious relationship with. she is nice, bright and smiles a lot so she gets along with everyone. she’s soft hearted and hates being alone so i think i’ll be nice if the meets someone kind and gentle and becomes the person i couldn’t be for her’

when she finishes reading, she lets out a small breath, smiling faintly as she folds the paper again.

“that was…”, she trails off.

“beautiful”, hae offers gently and lily nods.

next is minho and he doesn’t hesitate as much when he opens his envelope. his tone is steady when he reads, more than lily’s, but there are moments where something softer slips through the words he reads. 

‘my first impression of minho was that he was very handsome’ 

he stops reading when all of you laugh at that, himself included.

‘he may seem cold at first but he’s actually a very warm person and he likes to give presents and prepare things for his girlfriend. he’s someone who’s genuine with others, so he was a very warm and reliable boyfriend’

when he finishes reading, he reacts with a slight shake of his head, like he expected that.

“that was very good”, han says.

minho hums, “it was”

yeong decides to go next and when you look at her, you notice the way her fingers hold the paper just a little tighter. her voice is clear as she reads but there’s emotion there, subtle and controlled.

‘yeong is a caring and soft hearted person who gets hurt by the smallest actions and words, but she tries to hide it because of her strong pride, so i think it would be great if you can pay attention to her and take good care of her’

when hae’s turn arrives, she goes very quiet again. she almost whispers at first, glancing down more than she looks up, but as she continues, her voice steadies, even if her hands don’t.

‘once hae sets her mind on something, she’ll do it no matter what. she’s a passionate person who likes learning new things and looks cool working. she was a very considerate girlfriend and was always there for me whenever i needed her’

you find yourself leaning slightly without realising it, listening more carefully, trying to piece things together without actually knowing anything, without seeing the image of the puzzle you’re trying to create. 

han’s letter brings a different energy. he laughs once before he even starts reading, shaking his head slightly like he already knows what’s coming.

“okay… this is embarrassing”, he says, but he reads anyway.

‘han is someone who makes me feel special. i loved our time together and he was very romantic. he’s bright and funny and he talks a lot so it’s easy to talk with him. he loves music and when he’s with people he shines. i think a girl who can understand him will be a good match for him. he will treat you like a princess but he’s also the princess in the relationship’

there’s more laughter this time and it helps, just a little, to break the weight that’s been building.

chan goes after him. he opens his envelope with a small breath, scanning the page briefly before starting to read. his voice is warm, like it was when he first walked in, but there’s something more grounded in it now. 

‘chan is a very warm and meticulous person. wherever he goes and whoever he’s with, he always puts others first. he takes good care of people, so while living with him, you’ll be able to see his sweet side often. he likes music and he’s sentimental, so i think he’ll be very good with a girl who has the same interests as him’

you notice the way the room quiets a bit more as he reads, the attention fully on him. when he finishes, he smiles faintly and looks at seungmin as he folds the paper.

“your turn”, he tells him.

seungmin opens his letter without much hesitation and he starts reading, his voice calm and controlled. 

‘seungmin has a very detailed personality to the point he notices the minor changes in your tone. he loves baseball and he is very good at it. he usually seems calm but he’s very loving, caring and warm when you get to know him. he looks after those close to him and he took great care of me and always put me first. he’s the only boy i regret breaking up with’

everyone stays silent at the last sentence, the words quite heavy and full of regret. you try to keep your breathing steady because you know you’re next and you’re not sure if you’re ready for the words that are going to appear in front of you in mere seconds.

all eyes shift to you, there’s nowhere else for the attention to go. your heart is beating too fast again and your thoughts are too loud but still, you inhale slowly and open the envelope.

you stare at the handwriting, recognising it as soon as the letter lands in your hands. you force your eyes to focus and then, you start reading.

‘y/n has a pretty smile and laughs a lot, that’s why when you look at her, you feel happy as well. she’s someone with bright energy and loves chocolate, so if you give her something sweet, you’ll see her wide smile’

but as you go on, something shifts. you try to keep going anyway, your eyes moving across the lines, your grip tightening on the paper.

‘she is always happy and she is very caring and loving. while we were together, she made me grow and taught me many things. i remember our time together as the best time of my life’

you can feel it building - the memories behind the words, the things he chose to write. your voice softens without you meaning it to.

‘she’s soft hearted and emotional, and also strong, but please be kind to her so that she won’t get hurt’

by the time you reach the end, your chest feels too tight, your throat closing just enough to make the last words harder to get out. when you finish, you lower the paper slowly, your hands not as steady as before. your eyes sting, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down. you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, letting put a small breath that doesn’t quite steady you. 

you see a hand in front of you, offering you a tissue. you look up and see seungmin, with a soft smile on his face.

“here, take it”, he says.

“thank you”, you say as you grab the tissue.

you knew this would happen. you bring the tissue to your face, brushing your cheek and wiping the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself again, even as your chest still feels tight and your emotions are sitting too close to the surface.

not long after you finish reading the letters, all of you decide it’s time to go to bed. you can still feel the weight of your letter sitting in your chest, without fully letting you go after you read it out loud. you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring down at your hands, still holding the faint memory of the paper from earlier.

“hey”, lily says gently.

you look up.

she’s watching you now, her expression soft but a bit concerned, “are you okay?”

you take a second before answering, not because you don’t want to respond, but because you’re trying to figure out what the honest answer even is.

“i think so”, you say finally, “it was just… a lot”

she nods immediately, “yeah, i get it”

“it kind of hit me more that i expected", you say, looking down again.

“i could tell”, she says softly, “but it was really nice. you know, what your ex wrote”

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak again. you both start getting ready for bed when your phone vibrates, both of your phones do. you look at lily and she’s already looking at her own phone. you reach for yours and you see a text from the show.

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

this is the first actual choice you have to make and your mind starts moving, faster than you can control. you think about the day, about the boys and then you exhale quietly. you don’t even know them yet, not all of them at least. sending something to someone new feels… too much and too fast. 

but if you send your ex the text… your thumb hovers over the screen for a second before you finally type.

‘thank you’

it’s simple, maybe too simple. but it’s the only thing that feels right in this moment, especially after everything that happened earlier, after the letter. you stare at the words for a second, then press send before you can overthink it.

“did you send it?”, lily asks you.

“yeah, you?”

“yeah”, she says, placing her phone down beside her.

none of you asks who you sent the text to, it’s understood, the texts have to remain anonymous, at least for now, that’s part of the rules. you start talking again, relaxing, when your phone vibrates again.

you see a new text and your heart picks up slightly as you read it.

‘i miss seeing you smile’

your breath catches and for a second you just stare at the screen and before you can think too much about it, another text appears.

exchange: your ex chose you

when you finally wake up the next day, you realise that the light filtering through the curtains is higher in the sky than it should be, and for a moment you just lie there, disoriented. your body feels heavy and your head too. it takes a few seconds before you reach your phone, your eyes still half-lidded and when you see the time, you blink, even more confused now.

it’s almost noon. last night… didn’t really let you rest. you just lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts looping over and over again. the letters, the text.

you turn on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow for a moment before pushing yourself up. your body protests just a little, still tired, but there’s no point staying there. you leave your room and go to the kitchen and you see hae as soon as you step in. she’s standing by the counter, a cup in her hands, and she looks up when she hears you enter.

“y/n”, she says, a small smile appearing, “good morning, oh, well... good afternoon”

“yeah, hello”, you reply, your voice still a little softer than usual.

“did you just wake up?”, she asks you.

you nod, rubbing lightly at your arm, “yeah… i didn’t sleep that well”

“me neither”, she says, letting out a small breath, “i think everyone was a bit overwhelmed”

you nod your head and then ask her, “where is everyone?”

“seungmin and minho went to buy groceries”, she says, “the other left earlier for work”

you nod slowly, leaning against the counter and hae looks at you again, a little more carefully this time.

“are you okay?”, she asks.

you hesitate for a second before answering, “yeah, i just… needed some time i guess”

“it was a lot”

“yeah, it was”, you agree.

you’re about to say something else when you hear the front door opening, followed by the noise of footsteps and the faint clatter of bags.

“they’re back”, hae says.

a second later, minho and seungmin walk into the kitchen, both of them carrying grocery bags.

“oh, you’re up”, minho says, setting one of the bags down on the counter.

seungmin’s gaze follows, landing on you briefly, “morning”

“morning boys”, you reply.

“have you eaten?”, minho asks, already moving to set the rest of the groceries down.

you shake your head.

“i can make something quickly”, he offers.

“no, it’s okay”, you say, “you just got back, i can-”

“it won’t take long”, he cuts in lightly and starts pulling something out of one of the bags, starting to prepare you something to eat.

you exchange a small glance with hae, who smiles faintly, then turns back to the groceries.

“let’s put these away”, she says.

you nod, stepping closer to the counter. seungmin joins you without a word, picking up one of the bags and starting to sort through it. the three of you start taking things out, placing items where they belong, and behind you, you hear minho moving around, the sound of cooking filling the kitchen.

you finish putting everything away at the same time minho finishes cooking for you and he slides a simple plate towards you with a small nod.

“thank you”, you say.

he just shrugs lightly, “eat before it gets cold”

you sit at the counter while the others linger nearby. hae pours herself some water and seungmin leans lightly against the counter, looking at his phone for a second before he puts it away again. the four of you stay there, talking as you eat slowly, the food pulling you a little more into the moment and into your body.

when you’re done eating, everyone leaves to do their own thing, it’s still too early for constant closeness, too soon to be together all the time without space. the house is shared, yes, but you’re all still figuring out how to exist in it with more people.

you go to your room and sit on your bed before reaching for your bag, pulling out a book you brought with you. reading has always been like this for you - a way to settle your thoughts, to step into your own little world just enough to understand your own mind better. and right now, your mind needs it. 

you curl up against the headboard, opening the book, letting the words pull you in slowly. it takes a few pages to fully focus, your thoughts still drifting back to everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, but eventually it quiets.

time passes without you noticing too much, and at some point you check your phone, replying to a few texts, when you start hearing movement outside your room again. voices, doors, the house filling up. 

you close your book, setting it aside and stand up, stretching before heading out of your room. when you step into the living room, all of them are already there. chan and seungmin are sitting on the sofa, talking about something that makes lily laugh beside them. han is nearby, saying something animatedly while minho listens with a small, almost amused expression. hae and yeong are there too, talking together, a bit further from the group but still there.

“y/n, you’re here!”, lily says when she notices you.

you smile at her, moving closer, “yeah, i was in our room”

“how was your day?”, chan asks you, turning towards you when you sit next to him.

“quiet”, you say, “slept in and then just read for a while”

“that sounds nice”, he says.

the conversation picks up from there, and you find yourself laughing along at some point, the sound coming easier than it did yesterday. suddenly, the doorbell rings and the sound cuts through the room, immediate and clear. the doorbell rings again and then lily pushes herself up from the sofa.

“i’ll get it!”, she says, already heading towards the door.

you follow her with your eyes as she disappears down the hallway, the rest of you falling into a brief, curious silence. you hear the door opening and closing, and then lily comes back with an envelope. 

she looks around at all of you, a small, almost nervous smile on her face before she opens it. the paper rustles lightly in her hands as she pulls out the contests, looking down to read.

“okay, here we go…”, she starts, her voice a little bit shakier now.

‘earlier today, the female participants were asked to name an important restaurant for them that held memories with their ex’

your stomach drops lightly.

right, that text, you remember it now, it’s one of the texts your answered before when you were reading in your room. you didn’t realise it would happen so soon, whatever this was supposed to be. lily continues, reading carefully.

‘the male participants will now choose one of these four restaurants for your first date tomorrow. please, keep in mind that the purpose of this is to meet new people’

there’s a small shift in the room, it’s subtle but you feel it.

“so… if we have to pick a restaurant that we don’t know…”, han trails off.

“it’s because we can’t pick our ex”, minho finishes, matter-of-fact.

silence settles for a second as the implication lands clearly for everyone. you swallow, your gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting again.

lily pulls out four small cards from the envelope and places them carefully on the table in front of you. each one has the logo and the name of the restaurants the four of you have chosen - four choices, something simple but carrying more weight than they should.

everyone gathers around the table, drawn in without needing to be told. the space tightens, your shoulders almost brushing, and you feel the air shifting again.

“so… how do we decide the order?”, chan asks.

“rock, paper, scissors?”, han suggests.

the boys nod their heads and then their hands go up, small bursts of laughter breaking through the tension for just a moment as they play it out. seungmin wins so he will go first, then minho, han and chan, that’s the order. 

seungmin looks at the cards and then reaches for one, the tacos restaurant. he picks it up and turns it over, all of you realising there’s a code on the back. he takes out his phone and scans it.

“what’s that?”, hae asks him.

“you scan the code and it tells us who we’re gonna have our date with”, seungmin says.

okay, so everyone is gonna know who is going with who once all of the boys choose the restaurant, perfect. you’re not really sure if that calms your nerves or not. 

minho goes next and he reaches for the bbq restaurant without much hesitation. his movements are smooth, almost detached, but you can see it, the slight tension in his jaw as he flips the card over and then there’s another code, another scan, another couple for a first date.

han is next and he looks at the remaining cards for a second before choosing the italian restaurant. there’s a small smile on his face, nervous but something you’ve come to learn is so him.

“okay…”, he mutters softly, mostly to himself, as he turns the card over. 

you feel it before anything happens, that strange pull in your chest, that quiet sense of something about to shift. he scans the code and pauses for a second, then two, and then, he looks up, straight at you, and everything clicks into place at once.

han is your first date. 

a/n: han jisung you're OUT ❌ he's notttt the ex (i'm scared bc i know some of you are gonna come for me and i'm sorry pls don't hate me) so who's the ex???? 🤔

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EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 7.8k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< prologue | part 2 >

the taxi slows down before it fully stops, its tires crunching softly against gravel and for a moment you wish it wouldn’t, you wish it would just keep driving. you watch the house through the window, standing there, all clean lines and wide windows reflecting the pale sky, like it’s been waiting for you specifically. 

the driver says something you don’t fully catch, and you blink, pulling yourself back into your body.

“sorry?”, you say.

“we’re here”, he repeats gently.

right. here.

you nod, pay and thank him and then push the door open. you step out, your shoes meeting the ground with a soft thud and for a brief second you just stand there, staring at the house with your hand still resting on the door.

this is it.

you close the door, walk around to the trunk and pull your suitcase out. the handle clicks into place and you flinch a little at the sound. it’s stupid, there’s no one outside to hear it, but your nerves are already stretched thin, reacting to everything like it matters more than it should, because, in reality, everything about this matters. 

you wave goodbye to the driver, more out of habit than anything else, and watch as the taxi pulls away. it disappears faster than you expect, leaving you alone in front of the house with nothing but the faint hum of distant traffic and the sound of your own breathing. you consider getting back in, well not literally because there’s no taxi anymore, but you consider leaving.

you’ve thought about it so many times already that it doesn’t surprise you when the thought comes back again. you thought about it when hyunjin called you to talk about the show, when you told your ex, when you both agreed to do it, when you packed your things last night.

you’ve been thinking about it every single day. and yet, here you are.

your grip tightens on the suitcase handle as you exhale slowly, steadying yourself and then, you start walking towards the house. each step feels like you’re crossing some invisible line you won’t be able to step back over. the path is neat, carefully arranged, leading straight to the front door like there’s only one direction you’re supposed to go.

you reach the door and hesitate again, your reflection faintly visible in the glass, and you look more composed than you feel. you smooth your hair back, then your clothes, you grab your suitcase again and then let out one last breath. 

you know the cameras are already recording you, the people of the show told you that. which means you’ve stopped being just you ever since you left the taxi. now, you’re you on a show. you with rules, you with secrets.  

you push the door open before your thoughts make you run away and step inside. the interior is quiet and brighter than you expected. natural light spills in through large windows, stretching across polished floors and soft-coloured furniture. the space feels open, carefully designed to look effortless and beautiful and you know every detail has been thought through. 

you walk inside slowly, your suitcase rolling softly behind you and you let your eyes wander. the living room opens up in front of you, wide and inviting, with a large sofa facing a low table, a few scattered cushions, and subtle decorations that make the place feel lived in without being personal.

“hello?”, you ask softly, but there’s no answer, you’re the first one.

you move further in, your footsteps quiet but echoing, another sign that tells you that you’re alone. the cameras are there, you can feel them even when you don’t look directly at them. you glance towards the kitchen, drawn by the openness of it. it’s just as expansive as the rest, with clean countertops and a large island in the centre of it. you can already imagine people standing there, leaning against the counter, laughing and talking with each other.

you run your fingers along the edge of the island as you pass. everything feels a little too polished, like a stage waiting for actors, actors like you. your stomach twists at the thought.

you wonder who will walk through that door next. a girl? a boy? one of the other participants you’ve never met, who will just walk in here and introduce themselves and become part of your daily life faster than it should be possible? or-

your chest tightens again, sharper this time.

it could be him. it was one thing to see him last week, with all of the cameras and you talking and seeing each other for the first time in a year. but if he’s the next one to arrive today…

you swallow, your gaze drifting back towards the entrance as the idea settles heavily in your mind, impossible to ignore. the moment you see him, no matter if he’s the next one or not, you will have to act like you don’t know him, like there’s no history between you. you’re just strangers. the thought feels almost absurd when you try to hold it next to everything you lived together.

was this a good idea? 

the question comes back again and you walk back into the living room. you leave your suitcase and then lower yourself onto the sofa. you rest your hands in your lap, your fingers loosely intertwined, and stare ahead without focusing on anything in particular as the silence stretches. 

you think about how this will look from the outside - the first arrival, the quiet girl sitting alone, waiting. they won’t hear your heart beating so loud you think it will leave your chest, they won’t see the way your thoughts keep circling the same questions, they won’t hear the way your mind keeps going back to him, they won’t know how much of you is hoping and dreading that he’s the one who walks through that door next.

you suddenly hear it, the faint sound of the front door opening, and you straighten slightly, your hands tightening in your lap, your gaze flicking towards the hallway that leads to the entrance. you hold your breath as you hear the first footsteps, soft and careful.

one of the girls.

one of the boys.

him.

your chest tightens with something you don’t want to name and even though you don’t move from the sofa, every part of you feels alert, waiting. the footsteps come closer and then she appears.

a girl steps into the living room, pausing just slightly when she notices you. her eyes widen for a brief moment and then a visible wave of relief softens her expression, her shoulders dropping like she’s just let go of something she didn’t know she was holding. 

you feel it too, faintly, relief spreading quietly through your chest. it’s not him, good. you stand up and you both bow politely.

“hi”, she says, her voice gentle and you see there’s a small smile on her face, “i’m lily”

“hi”, you reply, returning the smile as best as you can, “i’m y/n”

she nods her head and then glances around the room again, as if she’s taking everything in now that she knows she’s not alone.

“it’s… really big”, she says, laughing out of nerves.

“yeah, it is”, you say, laughing too, “i got here some minutes ago. i haven’t seen all of it”

“that makes me feel better”, she says, smiling a little more easily now, “i thought i’d be the first one and just… wait here awkwardly”

you shake your head, laughing more, “don’t worry. i already did that for you”

that earns another laugh from her, this time more genuine, and the tension between you loosens just a little. you both sit down on the sofa, leaving a comfortable amount of space between you.

“so…”, she starts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “were you nervous coming here?”

you let out a small breath, glancing down at your hands before looking back up, “yeah. more than i thought i’d be”

“same”, she says, nodding, “i kept thinking about it on the way here, like… why did i agree to this?”

you huff out a quiet laugh, the words hitting a little too close, “i’ve been thinking that for a while”

she smiles again and there’s something understanding in her expression that makes it easier to sit there with her. the conversation flows slowly but steadily, both of you skirting around anything too deep, too revealing, because you can’t reveal too much about yourselves, at least not yet.

you’re in the middle of responding to something she says when the sound of the front door cuts through the air again and both of you pause. your head turns towards the hallway and lily does the same beside you, her posture straightening too.

you hear footsteps, heavier this time, and your heart picks up again. the footsteps get closer and closer, until a figure appears in the living room. it’s a boy this time, and he stops when he sees the two of you and gives a small, polite nod.

“hello”, he says. 

you and lily bow in greeting and he mirrors the gesture.

“i’m minho”, he adds, his voice even, controlled.

you introduce yourself and lily does the same. there’s something calm and unreadable about him but it doesn’t fully hide the slight tension in his shoulders, the careful way he moves when he leaves his suitcase next to yours and walks over to sit down on the sofa with you. you can see he’s nervous too.

three strangers in a too big, too quiet house. the silence settles again, like all three of you are waiting for someone else to be the one to break it. minho is the one who does, as he glances between you and lily and then speaks.

“are you two the first ones?”

his voice is calm, casual enough, but you can hear the hesitation there, like he’s choosing his words more carefully than necessary.

you nod, “yeah. i got here first and then lily came a bit after”

“i was really hoping i wouldn’t be the first one”, lily says.

minho laughs, “yeah, me too”

and then, you hear a soft, very audible sound breaking through the room - lily’s stomach. you blink and turn your head towards her at the same time as minho before the three of you laugh at the same time.

“oh god, i didn’t eat this morning, i’m sorry”, lily says, covering her face, her voice muffled behind her hands, “i was too nervous”

“don’t worry”, you say, still laughing.

minho tilts his head, looking at her, “i can cook something if you want”

the offer comes naturally, like it’s not a big deal at all, but it still makes you glance at him with a bit more interest. lily looks surprised too, her eyes widening just a little before she quickly shakes her head.

“no, it’s okay”, she says, “i’ll just wait until everyone gets here”

“are you sure?”, he asks her.

“yeah”, she nods, smiling, “it feels weird to start without everyone”

you glance at minho again, “you like cooking?”

he shrugs, casual, “yeah. i do it a lot”

“that’s nice”, you say, “i don’t. like, at all”

“same”, lily adds, laughing a little, “i mean i know how to cook, but i really don’t want to most of the time”

minho’s lips curve just slightly at that, like he finds it amusing but isn’t going to comment too much on it. you’re about to say something when you hear the door opening again, cutting the moment instantly.

the three of you go quiet, your attention shifting towards the hallway in sync. your heartbeat picks up again, the now familiar tightness returning to your chest before you can stop it. you see a boy stepping into the living room with a small, polite smile already in place, like he’s prepared for this moment. his eyes move across the room, landing on the three of you, and he gives a light bow.

“hi”, he says, “i’m seungmin”

you move with the others, bowing in return. your voice comes out steady when you introduce yourself, even though your heart hasn’t stopped beating faster and faster, you know it won’t calm down until everyone is here. seungmin places his suitcase next to the others and then walks over to sit in the armchair across the sofa, right in front of you. 

up close like this, it’s easier to see the details - the slight tension in his posture, the careful way he settles into the seat, how his hands rest together a bit too neatly, how he keeps pressing his lips together. he looks composed and calm, but it’s the same calm you had seen in minho as well, controlled and nervous.

“did you eat?”, lily asks seungmin, her tone light.

he shakes his head slightly, “um... not much”

“me neither”, she says with a small laugh, “i was too nervous”

seungmin nods in understanding, a faint smile touching his lips and then, you decide to speak again.

“do you like cooking?”

his gaze shifts to you, “i know how to, but i don’t really like it”

“just like us”, you say, gesturing between you and lily, the two of you laughing again.

the front door opens once more and you all wait there in silence until a girl appears this time. she stops the moment she sees all of you, like completely still. her eyes widen slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to walk into a full room and she just stands there taking everything in. you recognise the feeling immediately, that brief and overwhelming awareness that this is real, that you’re all here for the same reason.

she bows quickly, almost a little too fast, “hi, i’m hae”, she says, her voice quieter than the other so far, carrying a small awkward edge that makes something in your chest soften just lightly. 

you and the others greet her the same way, introducing yourselves one by one. she looks around again, as if trying to figure out where to go or what to do, and then she walks over to leave her suitcase next to the others. after a small hesitation, she moves towards the sofa, but instead of sitting near you, she chooses the far end, settling into the corner with a bit of distance between herself and the rest of you. 

“did you have trouble finding the place?, seungmin asks, his tone easy, directed towards minho first.

minho shakes his head, “not really. the directions were clear”

seungmin nods, glancing briefly towards lily and you as if including everyone in the conversation, “same here”

it’s simple, surface-level, but it works, it gives everyone something to hold onto.

“and you?”, he continues, this time looking towards hae.

she blinks, then shakes her head quickly, “no… it was okay”

“good”, he says, offering a small, polite smile, then his gaze moves between all of you, “have you looked around the house yet?”

you shake your head, “not really, just the living room and the kitchen”

seungmin hums softly, like he expected that answer.

“it’s big”, minho says, glancing around again, “i think we’ll get lost at some point”

that earns a faint smile from lily and even minho’s expression softens slightly. before anyone can say anything else, the door opens again. the sound is becoming familiar now, but it still sends a small jolt through you. your body reacts before you can stop it as your shoulders straighten slightly, your attention shifting once more towards the entrance as your heart speeds up again. 

another boy steps into the room with a natural ease that immediately feels different from the rest of you. he’s not completely relaxed, you can see a hint of nervousness in the way his gaze flickers across everyone, but he carries it differently.

“hi”, he says, smiling as he bows lightly, “i’m bang chan but you can call me chan or chris”

his tone is warm and open and it changes the atmosphere almost instantly. you introduce yourselves again, you honestly don’t remember how many times you’ve done that today, and he moves to join you in the living room once he sets his suitcase down with the others. he sits down on the sofa, just between hae and lily, but leaving a respectful space between all of them. he looks around  at all of you, his expression thoughtful for a second before it softens again. 

“so…”, he starts, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, “am i the only one that’s nervous or are you all just really good at hiding it?”

all of you laugh at that, and you miss the way chan looks at you quickly before he looks around the room again.

lily lets out a short laugh, “no, no, we’re definitely nervous”

“same”, seungmin adds quietly, clearing his throat and looking at the floor now.

you smile a little as you joke, “i think we’re all just pretending not to be” 

chan nods his head, “okay good, that’s better”, he glances between all of you again, “did you guys eat before coming here?”

“we were talking about that before, saying that we were too nervous to eat anything”, minho says.

“i barely ate too”, chan says.

hae gives a small nod again, she’s quieter than the rest, but she does it to be included in the group.

you glance towards the kitchen, “do you think there’s food already here?”

“probably”, lily says, “or maybe we have to go buy some?”

chan tilts his head, “we could check”

everyone agrees and there’s a small shift in the group, like the idea of actually doing something, anything, helps ease the stillness just a little more. you’re about to say something else when the door opens again, and the tension returns. you hear high heels against the floor, and it tells you everything before you even see her - the last girl is here.

she steps into the living room, her gaze moving across all of you, “hi, i’m yeong”

everyone introduces themselves and then chan gestures towards the kitchen, “we were just about to check if there’s anything to eat”

yeong glances in that direction, then back at the group, and nods her head, “okay, that sounds good”

you stand up with the others, following them towards the kitchen, everyone filling the space that had felt too still just moments ago. the kitchen feels different now with almost everyone in it, you don’t forget that the last boy has yet to arrive. all of you move around the island, opening cabinets and checking the fridge.

“there’s some stuff here”, hae says, crouching to look into a lower cabinet.

“there’s not a lot”, minho adds, scanning the shelves.

“ramen”, chan points out, pulling out a couple of packets, “that’s something”

“of course it is”, seungmin says lightly.

there are a few other things - bread, eggs, some vegetables, meat, basic ingredients. it’s not enough for anything elaborate but it’s enough to put together something quick. 

you find yourself standing near the counter, watching as everyone starts to fall into small roles without really discussing it. there’s quiet conversation, overlapping just enough to keep the silence from settling again, and yet, your thoughts drift as you glance at them one by one, almost without realising it.

some of them look more relaxed now, others are still nervous and you try to think about you and your ex and-

you stop yourself there. your gaze shifts away as your fingers brush against the edge of the counter. this is what you signed up for, a house full of strangers and questions and choices you’re not sure you’re ready for.

your chest tightens again, as the now familiar question surfaces again, was this a good idea?, quieter this time but no less present. you watch as minho opens the ramen packets, casually asking who wants what and for a moment, it almost feels normal, like you’ve done this a million times before. but underneath it, your thoughts keep moving and circling, never quite setting, because nothing about this is going to be simple.

by the time evening settles in, the house already feels different. not completely familiar, not yet at least, but it feels less distant than it did when you first met this morning. eating together had gone better than you expected and after that, the energy naturally dipped and you all moved to unpack, see the house, sit alone for a while and just breathe. 

there were four rooms in the house which meant you all had to share. you end up sharing with lily and you’re quietly grateful for it because there’s something about her that makes you feel at ease. you talk a little while unpacking and it’s enough to settle some of the nerves in your chest.

everyone is nice, really nice, but you had expected something more awkward or forced. but instead it was just good, really good even. which almost makes it worse because it lulls you into forgetting, just for a second what his actually is.

now, the house is alive again, and you make your way back into the kitchen. one by one everyone gathers again, naturally falling into place like you’ve already created a routine. you step closer to the counter, glancing around.

chan is already there, his sleeves pushed up as he looks through what you can have for dinner. minho stands nearby, leaning against the counter as he looks too. lily joins you a second later before looking around as if deciding where to help. seungmin stands next to you and just when he’s about to speak, the front door opens again.

everyone pauses and looks at each other, the last boy is finally here. you hear footsteps quickly this time, faster and slightly rushed. a boy appears then, breathing just a little heavier than the rest of you had when you arrived.

“hi- sorry”, he says, bowing quickly, “i’m han and i’m really sorry i’m so late”, his voice is warm but hurried as he continues, “my job was… busy today. it took longer than i expected. sorry”

he bows again but you all stop him, there’s no need to apologise.

“it’s fine”, lily says with a small smile, “we were just about to start dinner”

“yeah”, chan says, “you didn’t miss anything important”

han lets out a small breath, visibly relieved, “okay, good. i felt bad”

you introduce yourselves again and han nods after each of you, his shoulders relaxing. he looks at his suitcase and then at you again.

“so… um…”, han starts.

“oh, you’re gonna share a room with me, here, let me show you”, seungmin says before he moves to han and the two of them go to their shared room. 

everyone’s here, no more arrivals, no more waiting. all of you move to start dinner again and han slips into it easily despite arriving late, offering to help and joking when he almost grabs the wrong thing, earning a few laughs in return. when everything is ready, you all move to the table together.

there's a brief moment of hesitation - who sits where, how close, how far - but it passes quickly. chairs scrape softly against the floor as everyone settles in, plates and bowls being passed around, the clatter of utensils filling the space. you sit between lily and yeong, all of the girls on one side and all of the boys on the side. you start eating in silence but it doesn’t take long for the conversation to start again.

“we should probably figure out chores”, yeong says, glancing around the table.

“yeah”, seungmin agrees, “this place won’t stay clean on its own”

han lets out a small laugh, “i was hoping it would”

“it definitely won’t”, lily says smiling.

“so what, like… rotating?”, chan suggests, “or assigned roles?”

“rotating sounds better, so no one gets stuck with the same thing”, you say.

“agreed”, seungmin says.

there’s a small pause as everyone considers it, then nods follow.

“and groceries”, hae says quietly, “we’ll need more food”

“that too”, minho says, “maybe tomorrow? whoever’s free can go”

“and dinner”, han says, his gaze moving between all of you, “should we… eat together everyday?”

it’s a simple suggestion but it carries something deeper, a kind of quiet commitment.

“i think that would be nice”, you say.

“yeah”, lily agrees, “everyone will be busy during the day with their jobs and stuff, so dinner would be nice”

“then we can rotate cooking too”, chan says, “like two people each night?”

everyone agrees and then, when you finish eating, you hear the doorbell ringing again. the sound cuts through the room so suddenly that for a second, no one reacts. all of you pause almost at the same time, small movements freezing mid-action and conversations dropping off mid-sentence.

“is… someone else coming?”, lily asks quietly. 

no one answers at first and it almost feels like the beginning of the day again, that same anticipation and uncertainty creeping back in. 

minho pushes his chair back and stands up, “i’ll go and check”

he heads towards the front door and the rest of you stay where you are, listening, the house feeling too quiet again. there’s the faint sound of the door opening and then closing. minho reappears a few seconds later, something in his hand.

an envelope.

the moment you see it, you recognise it immediately. somewhere in the back of your mind you knew this would come, but actually seeing it, here, now, makes it real in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. 

he looks at all of you, holding it up slightly, “it’s for us”

he reaches into the envelope and pulls out several smaller ones, one for each of you. your eyes drop to them, scanning, and your breath catches when you see your name written on one. a memory flashes in your mind - sitting alone days ago in your apartment, a pen in hand as you stared at a blank page without writing anything. some of the people on the show had contacted you and said you needed to write an introduction of your ex. 

you remember how hard that felt. how impossible it was to decide what to say, what to not say. 

minho starts handing them out one by one. all of you take them with different expressions, different reactions, some of you are more hesitant, others are more curious. once everyone has their envelope, you all sit there, waiting until someone decides to actually do something.

“so…”, chan starts, “should we read them?”

then lily nods slowly, “out loud?”

“probably”, minho says, “i think that’s the point”

no one argues but there’s a shared understanding, unspoken but clear, that this is part of it, the beginning of everything unraveling.

lily ends up going first. she hesitates before opening the envelope, her fingers careful as she slides the paper out. you watch her expression as she scans the first lines, the way her lips press together briefly before she starts reading, her voice soft at first, slightly unsteady.

‘lily is the first girl i had a serious relationship with. she is nice, bright and smiles a lot so she gets along with everyone. she’s soft hearted and hates being alone so i think it’ll be nice if she meets someone kind and gentle and becomes the person i couldn’t be for her’

when she finishes reading, she lets out a small breath, smiling faintly as she folds the paper again.

“that was…”, she trails off.

“beautiful”, hae offers gently and lily nods.

next is minho and he doesn’t hesitate as much when he opens his envelope. his tone is steady when he reads, more than lily’s, but there are moments where something softer slips through the words he reads. 

‘my first impression of minho was that he was very handsome’ 

he stops reading when all of you laugh at that, himself included.

‘he may seem cold at first but he’s actually a very warm person and he likes to give presents and prepare things for his girlfriend. he’s someone who’s genuine with others, so he was a very warm and reliable boyfriend’

when he finishes reading, he reacts with a slight shake of his head, like he expected that.

“that was very good”, han says.

minho hums, “it was”

yeong decides to go next and when you look at her, you notice the way her fingers hold the paper just a little tighter. her voice is clear as she reads but there’s emotion there, subtle and controlled.

‘yeong is a caring and soft hearted person who gets hurt by the smallest actions and words, but she tries to hide it because of her strong pride, so i think it would be great if you can pay attention to her and take good care of her’

when hae’s turn arrives, she goes very quiet again. she almost whispers at first, glancing down more than she looks up, but as she continues, her voice steadies, even if her hands don’t.

‘once hae sets her mind on something, she’ll do it no matter what. she’s a passionate person who likes learning new things and looks cool working. she was a very considerate girlfriend and was always there for me whenever i needed her’

you find yourself leaning slightly without realising it, listening more carefully, trying to piece things together without actually knowing anything, without seeing the image of the puzzle you’re trying to create. 

han’s letter brings a different energy. he laughs once before he even starts reading, shaking his head slightly like he already knows what’s coming.

“okay… this is embarrassing”, he says, but he reads anyway.

‘han is someone who makes me feel special. i loved our time together and he was very romantic. he’s bright and funny and he talks a lot so it’s easy to talk with him. he loves music and when he’s with people he shines. i think a girl who can understand him will be a good match for him. he will treat you like a princess but he’s also the princess in the relationship’

there’s more laughter this time and it helps, just a little, to break the weight that’s been building.

chan goes after him. he opens his envelope with a small breath, scanning the page briefly before starting to read. his voice is warm, like it was when he first walked in, but there’s something more grounded in it now. 

‘chan is a very warm and meticulous person. wherever he goes and whoever he’s with, he always puts others first. he takes good care of people, so while living with him, you’ll be able to see his sweet side often. he likes music and he’s sentimental, so i think he’ll be very good with a girl who has the same interests as him’

you notice the way the room quiets a bit more as he reads, the attention fully on him. when he finishes, he smiles faintly and looks at seungmin as he folds the paper.

“your turn”, he tells him.

seungmin opens his letter without much hesitation and he starts reading, his voice calm and controlled. 

‘seungmin has a very detailed personality to the point he notices the minor changes in your tone. he loves baseball and he is very good at it. he usually seems calm but he’s very loving, caring and warm when you get to know him. he looks after those close to him and he took great care of me and always put me first. he’s the only boy i regret breaking up with’

everyone stays silent at the last sentence, the words quite heavy and full of regret. you try to keep your breathing steady because you know you’re next and you’re not sure if you’re ready for the words that are going to appear in front of you in mere seconds.

all eyes shift to you, there’s nowhere else for the attention to go. your heart is beating too fast again and your thoughts are too loud but still, you inhale slowly and open the envelope.

you stare at the handwriting, recognising it as soon as the letter lands in your hands. you force your eyes to focus and then, you start reading.

‘y/n has a pretty smile and laughs a lot, that’s why when you look at her, you feel happy as well. she’s someone with bright energy and loves chocolate, so if you give her something sweet, you’ll see her wide smile’

but as you go on, something shifts. you try to keep going anyway, your eyes moving across the lines, your grip tightening on the paper.

‘she is always happy and she is very caring and loving. while we were together, she made me grow and taught me many things. i remember our time together as the best time of my life’

you can feel it building - the memories behind the words, the things he chose to write. your voice softens without you meaning it to.

‘she’s soft hearted and emotional, and also strong, but please be kind to her so that she won’t get hurt’

by the time you reach the end, your chest feels too tight, your throat closing just enough to make the last words harder to get out. when you finish, you lower the paper slowly, your hands not as steady as before. your eyes sting, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down. you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, letting put a small breath that doesn’t quite steady you. 

you see a hand in front of you, offering you a tissue. you look up and see seungmin, with a soft smile on his face.

“here, take it”, he says.

“thank you”, you say as you grab the tissue.

you knew this would happen. you bring the tissue to your face, brushing your cheek and wiping the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself again, even as your chest still feels tight and your emotions are sitting too close to the surface.

not long after you finish reading the letters, all of you decide it’s time to go to bed. you can still feel the weight of your letter sitting in your chest, without fully letting you go after you read it out loud. you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring down at your hands, still holding the faint memory of the paper from earlier.

“hey”, lily says gently.

you look up.

she’s watching you now, her expression soft but a bit concerned, “are you okay?”

you take a second before answering, not because you don’t want to respond, but because you’re trying to figure out what the honest answer even is.

“i think so”, you say finally, “it was just… a lot”

she nods immediately, “yeah, i get it”

“it kind of hit me more that i expected", you say, looking down again.

“i could tell”, she says softly, “but it was really nice. you know, what your ex wrote”

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak again. you both start getting ready for bed when your phone vibrates, both of your phones do. you look at lily and she’s already looking at her own phone. you reach for yours and you see a text from the show.

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

this is the first actual choice you have to make and your mind starts moving, faster than you can control. you think about the day, about the boys and then you exhale quietly. you don’t even know them yet, not all of them at least. sending something to someone new feels… too much and too fast. 

but if you send your ex the text… your thumb hovers over the screen for a second before you finally type.

‘thank you’

it’s simple, maybe too simple. but it’s the only thing that feels right in this moment, especially after everything that happened earlier, after the letter. you stare at the words for a second, then press send before you can overthink it.

“did you send it?”, lily asks you.

“yeah, you?”

“yeah”, she says, placing her phone down beside her.

none of you asks who you sent the text to, it’s understood, the texts have to remain anonymous, at least for now, that’s part of the rules. you start talking again, relaxing, when your phone vibrates again.

you see a new text and your heart picks up slightly as you read it.

‘i miss seeing you smile’

your breath catches and for a second you just stare at the screen and before you can think too much about it, another text appears.

exchange: your ex chose you

when you finally wake up the next day, you realise that the light filtering through the curtains is higher in the sky than it should be, and for a moment you just lie there, disoriented. your body feels heavy and your head too. it takes a few seconds before you reach your phone, your eyes still half-lidded and when you see the time, you blink, even more confused now.

it’s almost noon. last night… didn’t really let you rest. you just lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts looping over and over again. the letters, the text.

you turn on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow for a moment before pushing yourself up. your body protests just a little, still tired, but there’s no point staying there. you leave your room and go to the kitchen and you see hae as soon as you step in. she’s standing by the counter, a cup in her hands, and she looks up when she hears you enter.

“y/n”, she says, a small smile appearing, “good morning, oh, well... good afternoon”

“yeah, hello”, you reply, your voice still a little softer than usual.

“did you just wake up?”, she asks you.

you nod, rubbing lightly at your arm, “yeah… i didn’t sleep that well”

“me neither”, she says, letting out a small breath, “i think everyone was a bit overwhelmed”

you nod your head and then ask her, “where is everyone?”

“seungmin and minho went to buy groceries”, she says, “the other left earlier for work”

you nod slowly, leaning against the counter and hae looks at you again, a little more carefully this time.

“are you okay?”, she asks.

you hesitate for a second before answering, “yeah, i just… needed some time i guess”

“it was a lot”

“yeah, it was”, you agree.

you’re about to say something else when you hear the front door opening, followed by the noise of footsteps and the faint clatter of bags.

“they’re back”, hae says.

a second later, minho and seungmin walk into the kitchen, both of them carrying grocery bags.

“oh, you’re up”, minho says, setting one of the bags down on the counter.

seungmin’s gaze follows, landing on you briefly, “morning”

“morning boys”, you reply.

“have you eaten?”, minho asks, already moving to set the rest of the groceries down.

you shake your head.

“i can make something quickly”, he offers.

“no, it’s okay”, you say, “you just got back, i can-”

“it won’t take long”, he cuts in lightly and starts pulling something out of one of the bags, starting to prepare you something to eat.

you exchange a small glance with hae, who smiles faintly, then turns back to the groceries.

“let’s put these away”, she says.

you nod, stepping closer to the counter. seungmin joins you without a word, picking up one of the bags and starting to sort through it. the three of you start taking things out, placing items where they belong, and behind you, you hear minho moving around, the sound of cooking filling the kitchen.

you finish putting everything away at the same time minho finishes cooking for you and he slides a simple plate towards you with a small nod.

“thank you”, you say.

he just shrugs lightly, “eat before it gets cold”

you sit at the counter while the others linger nearby. hae pours herself some water and seungmin leans lightly against the counter, looking at his phone for a second before he puts it away again. the four of you stay there, talking as you eat slowly, the food pulling you a little more into the moment and into your body.

when you’re done eating, everyone leaves to do their own thing, it’s still too early for constant closeness, too soon to be together all the time without space. the house is shared, yes, but you’re all still figuring out how to exist in it with more people.

you go to your room and sit on your bed before reaching for your bag, pulling out a book you brought with you. reading has always been like this for you - a way to settle your thoughts, to step into your own little world just enough to understand your own mind better. and right now, your mind needs it. 

you curl up against the headboard, opening the book, letting the words pull you in slowly. it takes a few pages to fully focus, your thoughts still drifting back to everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, but eventually it quiets.

time passes without you noticing too much, and at some point you check your phone, replying to a few texts, when you start hearing movement outside your room again. voices, doors, the house filling up. 

you close your book, setting it aside and stand up, stretching before heading out of your room. when you step into the living room, all of them are already there. chan and seungmin are sitting on the sofa, talking about something that makes lily laugh beside them. han is nearby, saying something animatedly while minho listens with a small, almost amused expression. hae and yeong are there too, talking together, a bit further from the group but still there.

“y/n, you’re here!”, lily says when she notices you.

you smile at her, moving closer, “yeah, i was in our room”

“how was your day?”, chan asks you, turning towards you when you sit next to him.

“quiet”, you say, “slept in and then just read for a while”

“that sounds nice”, he says.

the conversation picks up from there, and you find yourself laughing along at some point, the sound coming easier than it did yesterday. suddenly, the doorbell rings and the sound cuts through the room, immediate and clear. the doorbell rings again and then lily pushes herself up from the sofa.

“i’ll get it!”, she says, already heading towards the door.

you follow her with your eyes as she disappears down the hallway, the rest of you falling into a brief, curious silence. you hear the door opening and closing, and then lily comes back with an envelope. 

she looks around at all of you, a small, almost nervous smile on her face before she opens it. the paper rustles lightly in her hands as she pulls out the contests, looking down to read.

“okay, here we go…”, she starts, her voice a little bit shakier now.

‘earlier today, the female participants were asked to name an important restaurant for them that held memories with their ex’

your stomach drops lightly.

right, that text, you remember it now, it’s one of the texts your answered before when you were reading in your room. you didn’t realise it would happen so soon, whatever this was supposed to be. lily continues, reading carefully.

‘the male participants will now choose one of these four restaurants for your first date tomorrow. please, keep in mind that the purpose of this is to meet new people’

there’s a small shift in the room, it’s subtle but you feel it.

“so… if we have to pick a restaurant that we don’t know…”, han trails off.

“it’s because we can’t pick our ex”, minho finishes, matter-of-fact.

silence settles for a second as the implication lands clearly for everyone. you swallow, your gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting again.

lily pulls out four small cards from the envelope and places them carefully on the table in front of you. each one has the logo and the name of the restaurants the four of you have chosen - four choices, something simple but carrying more weight than they should.

everyone gathers around the table, drawn in without needing to be told. the space tightens, your shoulders almost brushing, and you feel the air shifting again.

“so… how do we decide the order?”, chan asks.

“rock, paper, scissors?”, han suggests.

the boys nod their heads and then their hands go up, small bursts of laughter breaking through the tension for just a moment as they play it out. seungmin wins so he will go first, then minho, han and chan, that’s the order. 

seungmin looks at the cards and then reaches for one, the tacos restaurant. he picks it up and turns it over, all of you realising there’s a code on the back. he takes out his phone and scans it.

“what’s that?”, hae asks him.

“you scan the code and it tells us who we’re gonna have our date with”, seungmin says.

okay, so everyone is gonna know who is going with who once all of the boys choose the restaurant, perfect. you’re not really sure if that calms your nerves or not. 

minho goes next and he reaches for the bbq restaurant without much hesitation. his movements are smooth, almost detached, but you can see it, the slight tension in his jaw as he flips the card over and then there’s another code, another scan, another couple for a first date.

han is next and he looks at the remaining cards for a second before choosing the italian restaurant. there’s a small smile on his face, nervous but something you’ve come to learn is so him.

“okay…”, he mutters softly, mostly to himself, as he turns the card over. 

you feel it before anything happens, that strange pull in your chest, that quiet sense of something about to shift. he scans the code and pauses for a second, then two, and then, he looks up, straight at you, and everything clicks into place at once.

han is your first date. 

a/n: han jisung you're OUT ❌ he's notttt the ex (i'm scared bc i know some of you are gonna come for me and i'm sorry pls don't hate me) so who's the ex???? 🤔

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[starlostjisung]

EXchange

pairing: skz!member x reader

genre: reality show au

wc: 7.8k

warnings: none

summary: four ex-couples are brought together to test whether love can end, restart or transform. you’re not sure which path is yours yet - closure, a new beginning or the courage to try again

< prologue | part 2 >

the taxi slows down before it fully stops, its tires crunching softly against gravel and for a moment you wish it wouldn’t, you wish it would just keep driving. you watch the house through the window, standing there, all clean lines and wide windows reflecting the pale sky, like it’s been waiting for you specifically. 

the driver says something you don’t fully catch, and you blink, pulling yourself back into your body.

“sorry?”, you say.

“we’re here”, he repeats gently.

right. here.

you nod, pay and thank him and then push the door open. you step out, your shoes meeting the ground with a soft thud and for a brief second you just stand there, staring at the house with your hand still resting on the door.

this is it.

you close the door, walk around to the trunk and pull your suitcase out. the handle clicks into place and you flinch a little at the sound. it’s stupid, there’s no one outside to hear it, but your nerves are already stretched thin, reacting to everything like it matters more than it should, because, in reality, everything about this matters. 

you wave goodbye to the driver, more out of habit than anything else, and watch as the taxi pulls away. it disappears faster than you expect, leaving you alone in front of the house with nothing but the faint hum of distant traffic and the sound of your own breathing. you consider getting back in, well not literally because there’s no taxi anymore, but you consider leaving.

you’ve thought about it so many times already that it doesn’t surprise you when the thought comes back again. you thought about it when hyunjin called you to talk about the show, when you told your ex, when you both agreed to do it, when you packed your things last night.

you’ve been thinking about it every single day. and yet, here you are.

your grip tightens on the suitcase handle as you exhale slowly, steadying yourself and then, you start walking towards the house. each step feels like you’re crossing some invisible line you won’t be able to step back over. the path is neat, carefully arranged, leading straight to the front door like there’s only one direction you’re supposed to go.

you reach the door and hesitate again, your reflection faintly visible in the glass, and you look more composed than you feel. you smooth your hair back, then your clothes, you grab your suitcase again and then let out one last breath. 

you know the cameras are already recording you, the people of the show told you that. which means you’ve stopped being just you ever since you left the taxi. now, you’re you on a show. you with rules, you with secrets.  

you push the door open before your thoughts make you run away and step inside. the interior is quiet and brighter than you expected. natural light spills in through large windows, stretching across polished floors and soft-coloured furniture. the space feels open, carefully designed to look effortless and beautiful and you know every detail has been thought through. 

you walk inside slowly, your suitcase rolling softly behind you and you let your eyes wander. the living room opens up in front of you, wide and inviting, with a large sofa facing a low table, a few scattered cushions, and subtle decorations that make the place feel lived in without being personal.

“hello?”, you ask softly, but there’s no answer, you’re the first one.

you move further in, your footsteps quiet but echoing, another sign that tells you that you’re alone. the cameras are there, you can feel them even when you don’t look directly at them. you glance towards the kitchen, drawn by the openness of it. it’s just as expansive as the rest, with clean countertops and a large island in the centre of it. you can already imagine people standing there, leaning against the counter, laughing and talking with each other.

you run your fingers along the edge of the island as you pass. everything feels a little too polished, like a stage waiting for actors, actors like you. your stomach twists at the thought.

you wonder who will walk through that door next. a girl? a boy? one of the other participants you’ve never met, who will just walk in here and introduce themselves and become part of your daily life faster than it should be possible? or-

your chest tightens again, sharper this time.

it could be him. it was one thing to see him last week, with all of the cameras and you talking and seeing each other for the first time in a year. but if he’s the next one to arrive today…

you swallow, your gaze drifting back towards the entrance as the idea settles heavily in your mind, impossible to ignore. the moment you see him, no matter if he’s the next one or not, you will have to act like you don’t know him, like there’s no history between you. you’re just strangers. the thought feels almost absurd when you try to hold it next to everything you lived together.

was this a good idea? 

the question comes back again and you walk back into the living room. you leave your suitcase and then lower yourself onto the sofa. you rest your hands in your lap, your fingers loosely intertwined, and stare ahead without focusing on anything in particular as the silence stretches. 

you think about how this will look from the outside - the first arrival, the quiet girl sitting alone, waiting. they won’t hear your heart beating so loud you think it will leave your chest, they won’t see the way your thoughts keep circling the same questions, they won’t hear the way your mind keeps going back to him, they won’t know how much of you is hoping and dreading that he’s the one who walks through that door next.

you suddenly hear it, the faint sound of the front door opening, and you straighten slightly, your hands tightening in your lap, your gaze flicking towards the hallway that leads to the entrance. you hold your breath as you hear the first footsteps, soft and careful.

one of the girls.

one of the boys.

him.

your chest tightens with something you don’t want to name and even though you don’t move from the sofa, every part of you feels alert, waiting. the footsteps come closer and then she appears.

a girl steps into the living room, pausing just slightly when she notices you. her eyes widen for a brief moment and then a visible wave of relief softens her expression, her shoulders dropping like she’s just let go of something she didn’t know she was holding. 

you feel it too, faintly, relief spreading quietly through your chest. it’s not him, good. you stand up and you both bow politely.

“hi”, she says, her voice gentle and you see there’s a small smile on her face, “i’m lily”

“hi”, you reply, returning the smile as best as you can, “i’m y/n”

she nods her head and then glances around the room again, as if she’s taking everything in now that she knows she’s not alone.

“it’s… really big”, she says, laughing out of nerves.

“yeah, it is”, you say, laughing too, “i got here some minutes ago. i haven’t seen all of it”

“that makes me feel better”, she says, smiling a little more easily now, “i thought i’d be the first one and just… wait here awkwardly”

you shake your head, laughing more, “don’t worry. i already did that for you”

that earns another laugh from her, this time more genuine, and the tension between you loosens just a little. you both sit down on the sofa, leaving a comfortable amount of space between you.

“so…”, she starts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “were you nervous coming here?”

you let out a small breath, glancing down at your hands before looking back up, “yeah. more than i thought i’d be”

“same”, she says, nodding, “i kept thinking about it on the way here, like… why did i agree to this?”

you huff out a quiet laugh, the words hitting a little too close, “i’ve been thinking that for a while”

she smiles again and there’s something understanding in her expression that makes it easier to sit there with her. the conversation flows slowly but steadily, both of you skirting around anything too deep, too revealing, because you can’t reveal too much about yourselves, at least not yet.

you’re in the middle of responding to something she says when the sound of the front door cuts through the air again and both of you pause. your head turns towards the hallway and lily does the same beside you, her posture straightening too.

you hear footsteps, heavier this time, and your heart picks up again. the footsteps get closer and closer, until a figure appears in the living room. it’s a boy this time, and he stops when he sees the two of you and gives a small, polite nod.

“hello”, he says. 

you and lily bow in greeting and he mirrors the gesture.

“i’m minho”, he adds, his voice even, controlled.

you introduce yourself and lily does the same. there’s something calm and unreadable about him but it doesn’t fully hide the slight tension in his shoulders, the careful way he moves when he leaves his suitcase next to yours and walks over to sit down on the sofa with you. you can see he’s nervous too.

three strangers in a too big, too quiet house. the silence settles again, like all three of you are waiting for someone else to be the one to break it. minho is the one who does, as he glances between you and lily and then speaks.

“are you two the first ones?”

his voice is calm, casual enough, but you can hear the hesitation there, like he’s choosing his words more carefully than necessary.

you nod, “yeah. i got here first and then lily came a bit after”

“i was really hoping i wouldn’t be the first one”, lily says.

minho laughs, “yeah, me too”

and then, you hear a soft, very audible sound breaking through the room - lily’s stomach. you blink and turn your head towards her at the same time as minho before the three of you laugh at the same time.

“oh god, i didn’t eat this morning, i’m sorry”, lily says, covering her face, her voice muffled behind her hands, “i was too nervous”

“don’t worry”, you say, still laughing.

minho tilts his head, looking at her, “i can cook something if you want”

the offer comes naturally, like it’s not a big deal at all, but it still makes you glance at him with a bit more interest. lily looks surprised too, her eyes widening just a little before she quickly shakes her head.

“no, it’s okay”, she says, “i’ll just wait until everyone gets here”

“are you sure?”, he asks her.

“yeah”, she nods, smiling, “it feels weird to start without everyone”

you glance at minho again, “you like cooking?”

he shrugs, casual, “yeah. i do it a lot”

“that’s nice”, you say, “i don’t. like, at all”

“same”, lily adds, laughing a little, “i mean i know how to cook, but i really don’t want to most of the time”

minho’s lips curve just slightly at that, like he finds it amusing but isn’t going to comment too much on it. you’re about to say something when you hear the door opening again, cutting the moment instantly.

the three of you go quiet, your attention shifting towards the hallway in sync. your heartbeat picks up again, the now familiar tightness returning to your chest before you can stop it. you see a boy stepping into the living room with a small, polite smile already in place, like he’s prepared for this moment. his eyes move across the room, landing on the three of you, and he gives a light bow.

“hi”, he says, “i’m seungmin”

you move with the others, bowing in return. your voice comes out steady when you introduce yourself, even though your heart hasn’t stopped beating faster and faster, you know it won’t calm down until everyone is here. seungmin places his suitcase next to the others and then walks over to sit in the armchair across the sofa, right in front of you. 

up close like this, it’s easier to see the details - the slight tension in his posture, the careful way he settles into the seat, how his hands rest together a bit too neatly, how he keeps pressing his lips together. he looks composed and calm, but it’s the same calm you had seen in minho as well, controlled and nervous.

“did you eat?”, lily asks seungmin, her tone light.

he shakes his head slightly, “um... not much”

“me neither”, she says with a small laugh, “i was too nervous”

seungmin nods in understanding, a faint smile touching his lips and then, you decide to speak again.

“do you like cooking?”

his gaze shifts to you, “i know how to, but i don’t really like it”

“just like us”, you say, gesturing between you and lily, the two of you laughing again.

the front door opens once more and you all wait there in silence until a girl appears this time. she stops the moment she sees all of you, like completely still. her eyes widen slightly, like she wasn’t expecting to walk into a full room and she just stands there taking everything in. you recognise the feeling immediately, that brief and overwhelming awareness that this is real, that you’re all here for the same reason.

she bows quickly, almost a little too fast, “hi, i’m hae”, she says, her voice quieter than the other so far, carrying a small awkward edge that makes something in your chest soften just lightly. 

you and the others greet her the same way, introducing yourselves one by one. she looks around again, as if trying to figure out where to go or what to do, and then she walks over to leave her suitcase next to the others. after a small hesitation, she moves towards the sofa, but instead of sitting near you, she chooses the far end, settling into the corner with a bit of distance between herself and the rest of you. 

“did you have trouble finding the place?, seungmin asks, his tone easy, directed towards minho first.

minho shakes his head, “not really. the directions were clear”

seungmin nods, glancing briefly towards lily and you as if including everyone in the conversation, “same here”

it’s simple, surface-level, but it works, it gives everyone something to hold onto.

“and you?”, he continues, this time looking towards hae.

she blinks, then shakes her head quickly, “no… it was okay”

“good”, he says, offering a small, polite smile, then his gaze moves between all of you, “have you looked around the house yet?”

you shake your head, “not really, just the living room and the kitchen”

seungmin hums softly, like he expected that answer.

“it’s big”, minho says, glancing around again, “i think we’ll get lost at some point”

that earns a faint smile from lily and even minho’s expression softens slightly. before anyone can say anything else, the door opens again. the sound is becoming familiar now, but it still sends a small jolt through you. your body reacts before you can stop it as your shoulders straighten slightly, your attention shifting once more towards the entrance as your heart speeds up again. 

another boy steps into the room with a natural ease that immediately feels different from the rest of you. he’s not completely relaxed, you can see a hint of nervousness in the way his gaze flickers across everyone, but he carries it differently.

“hi”, he says, smiling as he bows lightly, “i’m bang chan but you can call me chan or chris”

his tone is warm and open and it changes the atmosphere almost instantly. you introduce yourselves again, you honestly don’t remember how many times you’ve done that today, and he moves to join you in the living room once he sets his suitcase down with the others. he sits down on the sofa, just between hae and lily, but leaving a respectful space between all of them. he looks around  at all of you, his expression thoughtful for a second before it softens again. 

“so…”, he starts, leaning forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, “am i the only one that’s nervous or are you all just really good at hiding it?”

all of you laugh at that, and you miss the way chan looks at you quickly before he looks around the room again.

lily lets out a short laugh, “no, no, we’re definitely nervous”

“same”, seungmin adds quietly, clearing his throat and looking at the floor now.

you smile a little as you joke, “i think we’re all just pretending not to be” 

chan nods his head, “okay good, that’s better”, he glances between all of you again, “did you guys eat before coming here?”

“we were talking about that before, saying that we were too nervous to eat anything”, minho says.

“i barely ate too”, chan says.

hae gives a small nod again, she’s quieter than the rest, but she does it to be included in the group.

you glance towards the kitchen, “do you think there’s food already here?”

“probably”, lily says, “or maybe we have to go buy some?”

chan tilts his head, “we could check”

everyone agrees and there’s a small shift in the group, like the idea of actually doing something, anything, helps ease the stillness just a little more. you’re about to say something else when the door opens again, and the tension returns. you hear high heels against the floor, and it tells you everything before you even see her - the last girl is here.

she steps into the living room, her gaze moving across all of you, “hi, i’m yeong”

everyone introduces themselves and then chan gestures towards the kitchen, “we were just about to check if there’s anything to eat”

yeong glances in that direction, then back at the group, and nods her head, “okay, that sounds good”

you stand up with the others, following them towards the kitchen, everyone filling the space that had felt too still just moments ago. the kitchen feels different now with almost everyone in it, you don’t forget that the last boy has yet to arrive. all of you move around the island, opening cabinets and checking the fridge.

“there’s some stuff here”, hae says, crouching to look into a lower cabinet.

“there’s not a lot”, minho adds, scanning the shelves.

“ramen”, chan points out, pulling out a couple of packets, “that’s something”

“of course it is”, seungmin says lightly.

there are a few other things - bread, eggs, some vegetables, meat, basic ingredients. it’s not enough for anything elaborate but it’s enough to put together something quick. 

you find yourself standing near the counter, watching as everyone starts to fall into small roles without really discussing it. there’s quiet conversation, overlapping just enough to keep the silence from settling again, and yet, your thoughts drift as you glance at them one by one, almost without realising it.

some of them look more relaxed now, others are still nervous and you try to think about you and your ex and-

you stop yourself there. your gaze shifts away as your fingers brush against the edge of the counter. this is what you signed up for, a house full of strangers and questions and choices you’re not sure you’re ready for.

your chest tightens again, as the now familiar question surfaces again, was this a good idea?, quieter this time but no less present. you watch as minho opens the ramen packets, casually asking who wants what and for a moment, it almost feels normal, like you’ve done this a million times before. but underneath it, your thoughts keep moving and circling, never quite setting, because nothing about this is going to be simple.

by the time evening settles in, the house already feels different. not completely familiar, not yet at least, but it feels less distant than it did when you first met this morning. eating together had gone better than you expected and after that, the energy naturally dipped and you all moved to unpack, see the house, sit alone for a while and just breathe. 

there were four rooms in the house which meant you all had to share. you end up sharing with lily and you’re quietly grateful for it because there’s something about her that makes you feel at ease. you talk a little while unpacking and it’s enough to settle some of the nerves in your chest.

everyone is nice, really nice, but you had expected something more awkward or forced. but instead it was just good, really good even. which almost makes it worse because it lulls you into forgetting, just for a second what his actually is.

now, the house is alive again, and you make your way back into the kitchen. one by one everyone gathers again, naturally falling into place like you’ve already created a routine. you step closer to the counter, glancing around.

chan is already there, his sleeves pushed up as he looks through what you can have for dinner. minho stands nearby, leaning against the counter as he looks too. lily joins you a second later before looking around as if deciding where to help. seungmin stands next to you and just when he’s about to speak, the front door opens again.

everyone pauses and looks at each other, the last boy is finally here. you hear footsteps quickly this time, faster and slightly rushed. a boy appears then, breathing just a little heavier than the rest of you had when you arrived.

“hi- sorry”, he says, bowing quickly, “i’m han and i’m really sorry i’m so late”, his voice is warm but hurried as he continues, “my job was… busy today. it took longer than i expected. sorry”

he bows again but you all stop him, there’s no need to apologise.

“it’s fine”, lily says with a small smile, “we were just about to start dinner”

“yeah”, chan says, “you didn’t miss anything important”

han lets out a small breath, visibly relieved, “okay, good. i felt bad”

you introduce yourselves again and han nods after each of you, his shoulders relaxing. he looks at his suitcase and then at you again.

“so… um…”, han starts.

“oh, you’re gonna share a room with me, here, let me show you”, seungmin says before he moves to han and the two of them go to their shared room. 

everyone’s here, no more arrivals, no more waiting. all of you move to start dinner again and han slips into it easily despite arriving late, offering to help and joking when he almost grabs the wrong thing, earning a few laughs in return. when everything is ready, you all move to the table together.

there's a brief moment of hesitation - who sits where, how close, how far - but it passes quickly. chairs scrape softly against the floor as everyone settles in, plates and bowls being passed around, the clatter of utensils filling the space. you sit between lily and yeong, all of the girls on one side and all of the boys on the side. you start eating in silence but it doesn’t take long for the conversation to start again.

“we should probably figure out chores”, yeong says, glancing around the table.

“yeah”, seungmin agrees, “this place won’t stay clean on its own”

han lets out a small laugh, “i was hoping it would”

“it definitely won’t”, lily says smiling.

“so what, like… rotating?”, chan suggests, “or assigned roles?”

“rotating sounds better, so no one gets stuck with the same thing”, you say.

“agreed”, seungmin says.

there’s a small pause as everyone considers it, then nods follow.

“and groceries”, hae says quietly, “we’ll need more food”

“that too”, minho says, “maybe tomorrow? whoever’s free can go”

“and dinner”, han says, his gaze moving between all of you, “should we… eat together everyday?”

it’s a simple suggestion but it carries something deeper, a kind of quiet commitment.

“i think that would be nice”, you say.

“yeah”, lily agrees, “everyone will be busy during the day with their jobs and stuff, so dinner would be nice”

“then we can rotate cooking too”, chan says, “like two people each night?”

everyone agrees and then, when you finish eating, you hear the doorbell ringing again. the sound cuts through the room so suddenly that for a second, no one reacts. all of you pause almost at the same time, small movements freezing mid-action and conversations dropping off mid-sentence.

“is… someone else coming?”, lily asks quietly. 

no one answers at first and it almost feels like the beginning of the day again, that same anticipation and uncertainty creeping back in. 

minho pushes his chair back and stands up, “i’ll go and check”

he heads towards the front door and the rest of you stay where you are, listening, the house feeling too quiet again. there’s the faint sound of the door opening and then closing. minho reappears a few seconds later, something in his hand.

an envelope.

the moment you see it, you recognise it immediately. somewhere in the back of your mind you knew this would come, but actually seeing it, here, now, makes it real in a way you hadn’t fully prepared for. 

he looks at all of you, holding it up slightly, “it’s for us”

he reaches into the envelope and pulls out several smaller ones, one for each of you. your eyes drop to them, scanning, and your breath catches when you see your name written on one. a memory flashes in your mind - sitting alone days ago in your apartment, a pen in hand as you stared at a blank page without writing anything. some of the people on the show had contacted you and said you needed to write an introduction of your ex. 

you remember how hard that felt. how impossible it was to decide what to say, what to not say. 

minho starts handing them out one by one. all of you take them with different expressions, different reactions, some of you are more hesitant, others are more curious. once everyone has their envelope, you all sit there, waiting until someone decides to actually do something.

“so…”, chan starts, “should we read them?”

then lily nods slowly, “out loud?”

“probably”, minho says, “i think that’s the point”

no one argues but there’s a shared understanding, unspoken but clear, that this is part of it, the beginning of everything unraveling.

lily ends up going first. she hesitates before opening the envelope, her fingers careful as she slides the paper out. you watch her expression as she scans the first lines, the way her lips press together briefly before she starts reading, her voice soft at first, slightly unsteady.

‘lily is the first girl i had a serious relationship with. she is nice, bright and smiles a lot so she gets along with everyone. she’s soft hearted and hates being alone so i think it’ll be nice if she meets someone kind and gentle and becomes the person i couldn’t be for her’

when she finishes reading, she lets out a small breath, smiling faintly as she folds the paper again.

“that was…”, she trails off.

“beautiful”, hae offers gently and lily nods.

next is minho and he doesn’t hesitate as much when he opens his envelope. his tone is steady when he reads, more than lily’s, but there are moments where something softer slips through the words he reads. 

‘my first impression of minho was that he was very handsome’ 

he stops reading when all of you laugh at that, himself included.

‘he may seem cold at first but he’s actually a very warm person and he likes to give presents and prepare things for his girlfriend. he’s someone who’s genuine with others, so he was a very warm and reliable boyfriend’

when he finishes reading, he reacts with a slight shake of his head, like he expected that.

“that was very good”, han says.

minho hums, “it was”

yeong decides to go next and when you look at her, you notice the way her fingers hold the paper just a little tighter. her voice is clear as she reads but there’s emotion there, subtle and controlled.

‘yeong is a caring and soft hearted person who gets hurt by the smallest actions and words, but she tries to hide it because of her strong pride, so i think it would be great if you can pay attention to her and take good care of her’

when hae’s turn arrives, she goes very quiet again. she almost whispers at first, glancing down more than she looks up, but as she continues, her voice steadies, even if her hands don’t.

‘once hae sets her mind on something, she’ll do it no matter what. she’s a passionate person who likes learning new things and looks cool working. she was a very considerate girlfriend and was always there for me whenever i needed her’

you find yourself leaning slightly without realising it, listening more carefully, trying to piece things together without actually knowing anything, without seeing the image of the puzzle you’re trying to create. 

han’s letter brings a different energy. he laughs once before he even starts reading, shaking his head slightly like he already knows what’s coming.

“okay… this is embarrassing”, he says, but he reads anyway.

‘han is someone who makes me feel special. i loved our time together and he was very romantic. he’s bright and funny and he talks a lot so it’s easy to talk with him. he loves music and when he’s with people he shines. i think a girl who can understand him will be a good match for him. he will treat you like a princess but he’s also the princess in the relationship’

there’s more laughter this time and it helps, just a little, to break the weight that’s been building.

chan goes after him. he opens his envelope with a small breath, scanning the page briefly before starting to read. his voice is warm, like it was when he first walked in, but there’s something more grounded in it now. 

‘chan is a very warm and meticulous person. wherever he goes and whoever he’s with, he always puts others first. he takes good care of people, so while living with him, you’ll be able to see his sweet side often. he likes music and he’s sentimental, so i think he’ll be very good with a girl who has the same interests as him’

you notice the way the room quiets a bit more as he reads, the attention fully on him. when he finishes, he smiles faintly and looks at seungmin as he folds the paper.

“your turn”, he tells him.

seungmin opens his letter without much hesitation and he starts reading, his voice calm and controlled. 

‘seungmin has a very detailed personality to the point he notices the minor changes in your tone. he loves baseball and he is very good at it. he usually seems calm but he’s very loving, caring and warm when you get to know him. he looks after those close to him and he took great care of me and always put me first. he’s the only boy i regret breaking up with’

everyone stays silent at the last sentence, the words quite heavy and full of regret. you try to keep your breathing steady because you know you’re next and you’re not sure if you’re ready for the words that are going to appear in front of you in mere seconds.

all eyes shift to you, there’s nowhere else for the attention to go. your heart is beating too fast again and your thoughts are too loud but still, you inhale slowly and open the envelope.

you stare at the handwriting, recognising it as soon as the letter lands in your hands. you force your eyes to focus and then, you start reading.

‘y/n has a pretty smile and laughs a lot, that’s why when you look at her, you feel happy as well. she’s someone with bright energy and loves chocolate, so if you give her something sweet, you’ll see her wide smile’

but as you go on, something shifts. you try to keep going anyway, your eyes moving across the lines, your grip tightening on the paper.

‘she is always happy and she is very caring and loving. while we were together, she made me grow and taught me many things. i remember our time together as the best time of my life’

you can feel it building - the memories behind the words, the things he chose to write. your voice softens without you meaning it to.

‘she’s soft hearted and emotional, and also strong, but please be kind to her so that she won’t get hurt’

by the time you reach the end, your chest feels too tight, your throat closing just enough to make the last words harder to get out. when you finish, you lower the paper slowly, your hands not as steady as before. your eyes sting, and before you can stop it, a tear slips down. you look away quickly, pressing your lips together, letting put a small breath that doesn’t quite steady you. 

you see a hand in front of you, offering you a tissue. you look up and see seungmin, with a soft smile on his face.

“here, take it”, he says.

“thank you”, you say as you grab the tissue.

you knew this would happen. you bring the tissue to your face, brushing your cheek and wiping the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself again, even as your chest still feels tight and your emotions are sitting too close to the surface.

not long after you finish reading the letters, all of you decide it’s time to go to bed. you can still feel the weight of your letter sitting in your chest, without fully letting you go after you read it out loud. you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, staring down at your hands, still holding the faint memory of the paper from earlier.

“hey”, lily says gently.

you look up.

she’s watching you now, her expression soft but a bit concerned, “are you okay?”

you take a second before answering, not because you don’t want to respond, but because you’re trying to figure out what the honest answer even is.

“i think so”, you say finally, “it was just… a lot”

she nods immediately, “yeah, i get it”

“it kind of hit me more that i expected", you say, looking down again.

“i could tell”, she says softly, “but it was really nice. you know, what your ex wrote”

you nod slowly, not trusting yourself to speak again. you both start getting ready for bed when your phone vibrates, both of your phones do. you look at lily and she’s already looking at her own phone. you reach for yours and you see a text from the show.

exchange: who made your heart flutter today? send them a text

this is the first actual choice you have to make and your mind starts moving, faster than you can control. you think about the day, about the boys and then you exhale quietly. you don’t even know them yet, not all of them at least. sending something to someone new feels… too much and too fast. 

but if you send your ex the text… your thumb hovers over the screen for a second before you finally type.

‘thank you’

it’s simple, maybe too simple. but it’s the only thing that feels right in this moment, especially after everything that happened earlier, after the letter. you stare at the words for a second, then press send before you can overthink it.

“did you send it?”, lily asks you.

“yeah, you?”

“yeah”, she says, placing her phone down beside her.

none of you asks who you sent the text to, it’s understood, the texts have to remain anonymous, at least for now, that’s part of the rules. you start talking again, relaxing, when your phone vibrates again.

you see a new text and your heart picks up slightly as you read it.

‘i miss seeing you smile’

your breath catches and for a second you just stare at the screen and before you can think too much about it, another text appears.

exchange: your ex chose you

when you finally wake up the next day, you realise that the light filtering through the curtains is higher in the sky than it should be, and for a moment you just lie there, disoriented. your body feels heavy and your head too. it takes a few seconds before you reach your phone, your eyes still half-lidded and when you see the time, you blink, even more confused now.

it’s almost noon. last night… didn’t really let you rest. you just lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts looping over and over again. the letters, the text.

you turn on the bed, pressing your face into the pillow for a moment before pushing yourself up. your body protests just a little, still tired, but there’s no point staying there. you leave your room and go to the kitchen and you see hae as soon as you step in. she’s standing by the counter, a cup in her hands, and she looks up when she hears you enter.

“y/n”, she says, a small smile appearing, “good morning, oh, well... good afternoon”

“yeah, hello”, you reply, your voice still a little softer than usual.

“did you just wake up?”, she asks you.

you nod, rubbing lightly at your arm, “yeah… i didn’t sleep that well”

“me neither”, she says, letting out a small breath, “i think everyone was a bit overwhelmed”

you nod your head and then ask her, “where is everyone?”

“seungmin and minho went to buy groceries”, she says, “the other left earlier for work”

you nod slowly, leaning against the counter and hae looks at you again, a little more carefully this time.

“are you okay?”, she asks.

you hesitate for a second before answering, “yeah, i just… needed some time i guess”

“it was a lot”

“yeah, it was”, you agree.

you’re about to say something else when you hear the front door opening, followed by the noise of footsteps and the faint clatter of bags.

“they’re back”, hae says.

a second later, minho and seungmin walk into the kitchen, both of them carrying grocery bags.

“oh, you’re up”, minho says, setting one of the bags down on the counter.

seungmin’s gaze follows, landing on you briefly, “morning”

“morning boys”, you reply.

“have you eaten?”, minho asks, already moving to set the rest of the groceries down.

you shake your head.

“i can make something quickly”, he offers.

“no, it’s okay”, you say, “you just got back, i can-”

“it won’t take long”, he cuts in lightly and starts pulling something out of one of the bags, starting to prepare you something to eat.

you exchange a small glance with hae, who smiles faintly, then turns back to the groceries.

“let’s put these away”, she says.

you nod, stepping closer to the counter. seungmin joins you without a word, picking up one of the bags and starting to sort through it. the three of you start taking things out, placing items where they belong, and behind you, you hear minho moving around, the sound of cooking filling the kitchen.

you finish putting everything away at the same time minho finishes cooking for you and he slides a simple plate towards you with a small nod.

“thank you”, you say.

he just shrugs lightly, “eat before it gets cold”

you sit at the counter while the others linger nearby. hae pours herself some water and seungmin leans lightly against the counter, looking at his phone for a second before he puts it away again. the four of you stay there, talking as you eat slowly, the food pulling you a little more into the moment and into your body.

when you’re done eating, everyone leaves to do their own thing, it’s still too early for constant closeness, too soon to be together all the time without space. the house is shared, yes, but you’re all still figuring out how to exist in it with more people.

you go to your room and sit on your bed before reaching for your bag, pulling out a book you brought with you. reading has always been like this for you - a way to settle your thoughts, to step into your own little world just enough to understand your own mind better. and right now, your mind needs it. 

you curl up against the headboard, opening the book, letting the words pull you in slowly. it takes a few pages to fully focus, your thoughts still drifting back to everything that’s happened in the last 24 hours, but eventually it quiets.

time passes without you noticing too much, and at some point you check your phone, replying to a few texts, when you start hearing movement outside your room again. voices, doors, the house filling up. 

you close your book, setting it aside and stand up, stretching before heading out of your room. when you step into the living room, all of them are already there. chan and seungmin are sitting on the sofa, talking about something that makes lily laugh beside them. han is nearby, saying something animatedly while minho listens with a small, almost amused expression. hae and yeong are there too, talking together, a bit further from the group but still there.

“y/n, you’re here!”, lily says when she notices you.

you smile at her, moving closer, “yeah, i was in our room”

“how was your day?”, chan asks you, turning towards you when you sit next to him.

“quiet”, you say, “slept in and then just read for a while”

“that sounds nice”, he says.

the conversation picks up from there, and you find yourself laughing along at some point, the sound coming easier than it did yesterday. suddenly, the doorbell rings and the sound cuts through the room, immediate and clear. the doorbell rings again and then lily pushes herself up from the sofa.

“i’ll get it!”, she says, already heading towards the door.

you follow her with your eyes as she disappears down the hallway, the rest of you falling into a brief, curious silence. you hear the door opening and closing, and then lily comes back with an envelope. 

she looks around at all of you, a small, almost nervous smile on her face before she opens it. the paper rustles lightly in her hands as she pulls out the contests, looking down to read.

“okay, here we go…”, she starts, her voice a little bit shakier now.

‘earlier today, the female participants were asked to name an important restaurant for them that held memories with their ex’

your stomach drops lightly.

right, that text, you remember it now, it’s one of the texts your answered before when you were reading in your room. you didn’t realise it would happen so soon, whatever this was supposed to be. lily continues, reading carefully.

‘the male participants will now choose one of these four restaurants for your first date tomorrow. please, keep in mind that the purpose of this is to meet new people’

there’s a small shift in the room, it’s subtle but you feel it.

“so… if we have to pick a restaurant that we don’t know…”, han trails off.

“it’s because we can’t pick our ex”, minho finishes, matter-of-fact.

silence settles for a second as the implication lands clearly for everyone. you swallow, your gaze dropping briefly to the table before lifting again.

lily pulls out four small cards from the envelope and places them carefully on the table in front of you. each one has the logo and the name of the restaurants the four of you have chosen - four choices, something simple but carrying more weight than they should.

everyone gathers around the table, drawn in without needing to be told. the space tightens, your shoulders almost brushing, and you feel the air shifting again.

“so… how do we decide the order?”, chan asks.

“rock, paper, scissors?”, han suggests.

the boys nod their heads and then their hands go up, small bursts of laughter breaking through the tension for just a moment as they play it out. seungmin wins so he will go first, then minho, han and chan, that’s the order. 

seungmin looks at the cards and then reaches for one, the tacos restaurant. he picks it up and turns it over, all of you realising there’s a code on the back. he takes out his phone and scans it.

“what’s that?”, hae asks him.

“you scan the code and it tells us who we’re gonna have our date with”, seungmin says.

okay, so everyone is gonna know who is going with who once all of the boys choose the restaurant, perfect. you’re not really sure if that calms your nerves or not. 

minho goes next and he reaches for the bbq restaurant without much hesitation. his movements are smooth, almost detached, but you can see it, the slight tension in his jaw as he flips the card over and then there’s another code, another scan, another couple for a first date.

han is next and he looks at the remaining cards for a second before choosing the italian restaurant. there’s a small smile on his face, nervous but something you’ve come to learn is so him.

“okay…”, he mutters softly, mostly to himself, as he turns the card over. 

you feel it before anything happens, that strange pull in your chest, that quiet sense of something about to shift. he scans the code and pauses for a second, then two, and then, he looks up, straight at you, and everything clicks into place at once.

han is your first date. 

a/n: han jisung you're OUT ❌ he's notttt the ex (i'm scared bc i know some of you are gonna come for me and i'm sorry pls don't hate me) so who's the ex???? 🤔

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[leeknowlore]

🕸️🕷️✮⋆˙ LOG 6 — TRACE EVIDENCE (chapter 6 of my spiderman!jisung series)

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader, college spider-man au, established relationship synopsis: late at night in the university lab, you run tests on the sample you secretly took from the mutant that approached your dorm window, hoping to find any clue that could help jisung warnings: ~6k words, established relationship, fluff, brief argument, explicit content (MINORS DFNI!!), shower sex, oral sex (m. receiving), protected penetrative sex

a/n: yayyyy new chapter is outttt!! we're moving further into the plot hope you enjoy <333

prev

the lights buzzed like a hive of dying insects, the only sound besides the soft click of the mass spectrometer cycling through its scan. it was past 11 pm and the rest of the building was dark, but you’d sweet-talked the night security guard with a story. 

it felt cozy having your lab coat buttoned over your pyjamas.

on the lab bench sat the sealed sample you’d taken from the window the morning after the mutant appeared. you’d cracked it open an hour ago, transferred the faintly discoloured tip to a slide, and run every test the department’s equipment would allow.

you were about to doze off when the screen in front of you flickered.

the spectrometer finished its run with a soft chime.

the result populated in slow lines across the screen. you didn’t really have a plan or end point, and you surely weren’t under any illusion you were about to solve something teams of actual scientists hadn’t already figured out. 

“y/n?”

you jumped, your chair scraping back an inch as you twisted around.

a man stood in the doorway. for a second, your exhausted brain couldn’t make out who it was, which would’ve been mortifying considering he knew your name. he was dressed in smart clothes, a pair of glasses dangling from the collar of his shirt. after a moment of deep thought, your drowsy mind finally caught up.

you exhaled, shoulders dropping immediately. “professor han.”

he took a few steps into the lab. his trench coat was slung casually over one shoulder, and his hand was rubbing his forehead like you’d taken away ten years to his life. he looked a lot less put-together than usual. you instinctively pulled your lab coat tighter around yourself, covering the pink striped pyjamas underneath.

“are you supposed to be here right now?” he asked.

“well, technically not. i was just… finishing an assignment,” you said. you glanced back at the screen. “it’s bad of me to procrastinate, but…you know.”

he exhaled, understanding how hard university could be at times. “i was just making rounds before i leave. it seems you’re not the only one pushing work until late at night.”

that pulled a small smile out of you. “guess not.”

he gestured lightly toward the door. “make sure you tell them to lock up when you’re done.”

“i will.”

he gave you a short nod and turned to the door.

“professor?” you said when was always halfway out.

you weren’t sure why you stopped him. right now you felt like no one else would actually listen to what’s been on your mind lately. and professor han felt like the only person who might not brush you off with a change of subject or a warning to stop asking questions.

he turned back.

you swallowed and spoke. “you know… i find it so unsettling how none of this seems to be happening anywhere else in the world.” the words started spilling out. “we’re not just dealing with normal crime or accidents that make the news for a week and then disappear. this feels different.”

“every city has its headlines,” he replied gently, as if that should comfort you, “seoul’s just happen to be… more unusual than most.”

“but everything is being sugarcoated,” you continued, the sentences tumbling out of your mouth. you realized too late that you probably shouldn’t have called him back, because you couldn’t seem to stop. “no one in the city’s best labs is telling us what they’re actually finding about this high-tech stuff and these horrifying creatures. where do they even come from? how does technology like that exist? no one’s being transparent at all.”

“and the only thing the police talk about is the fact that spiderman makes everything worse by putting people in danger and going against the law, but he’s the only one who’s been able to do anything about it. because what we’re seeing is way beyond what normal cops can handle.”

you let out a small breath, the tension in your shoulders finally catching up to you.

“sorry,” you added, quieter now, rubbing awkwardly at the sleeve of your lab coat over your pyjamas. “i think i’m just… a little wound up. clearly.”

silence fell onto both of you. professor han was trying to pick the right words and you could tell.

“that would be understandable,” he said. “given the circumstances.”

“i just… i don’t know.” you looked down at your hands, fingers still fidgeting with the edge of the lab coat. “i feel like there’s so much more we could do about it. it’s probably way harder to figure it out than i’m making it sound. i’m not trying to pretend i know better than everyone else. i’m only upset at the way people are dismissing it… and criticising the ones who are actually getting things done.”

“well, y/n,” he said, “you know people mean well.”

you nodded. that was true, at least. most people did.

“they don’t want you getting too involved when it could put you in harm’s way,” professor han said. “no matter how much you think it doesn’t. you make yourself a threat every time you try to interfere.”

you swallowed hard. you suddenly remembered that night again when the elongated shadow came to your dorm. the memory was so chilling you had to fight the sudden urge to glance over your shoulder at the dark windows of the lab. 

his gaze narrowed, just slightly. “and it hasn’t, has it? no accidents? no… unusual activity around you lately? i’m talking about you specifically.”

you couldn’t just keep pretending nothing happened that night in your room. the opportunity to actually talk about it with someone who might understand was right here in front of you.

professor han was by far the most open person to you about all of this. not even your own boyfriend would be this willing to listen to you. 

the more he watched you, the more you felt like he already knew there was something you weren’t saying. his eyes were patient but piercing, like he was waiting for you to decide whether to trust him or keep hiding behind lies.

“i’m not asking to blame you,” he said, “nor am i trying to scare you away from your curiosity or ambition. i want to know in case you need to discuss it with someone. because it’s hard. i understand.”

you nodded and took a deep breath.

“i’m not working on an assignment,” you admitted. your eyes were staring at the floor because you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. “i’m looking at a sample. from a mutant. a mutant that came up to me,” you continued. 

your voice wavered, and a small shiver ran through you before you could stop it.

“it got closer than anything like that ever has. but what’s been driving me insane is that it didn’t attack me.” you swallowed, fingers twisting tighter into the sleeve of your lab coat. “perhaps it didn’t think it expected me to notice it, or maybe it did. i’m still trying to figure that part out.”

your thoughts were coming to you faster than you could keep up. but you still made sure not to share too much.

“maybe it didn’t attack because i stayed calm? or maybe fear triggers some kind of response in them.”

you finally forced yourself to look up at him, cheeks burning with anxiety.

“i just keep thinking… what would’ve happened if i hadn’t seen it in time?”

you could’ve been dead before you even realised what was happening. jisung might have had to fight it off right there in your room, and you had no idea how you’d ever explain what spiderman was doing in your dorm in the middle of the night.

professor han stayed quiet for a long moment, taking in everything.

“most people who encounter these things don’t get a second chance. instinctively, we freeze, run, or panic. all of the ways in which they give them a reason to hurt you. the way you handled it most likely saved you. but it won’t work every time.”

his answer was more realistic than you’d hoped for. you wanted to speak with someone who wouldn’t sugarcoat it, so who were you to complain?

“i’m not going to tell you to stop looking into it,” he continued, a small, tired smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you’re clearly too sharp for that advice to stick anyway. but i will say this: be extremely careful how you pursue it. don’t share what you’re doing with just anyone. only with people you really trust. you never know who might be connected to all this in ways we don’t see yet. that part… that’s for the authorities to untangle, not students.”

his advice sounded a lot like jisung’s, and you found yourself nodding along, relieved that jisung was so level-headed about it too.

“if you’re not discreet,” he added gently, “it won’t take long before you’re perceived as a threat again. maybe even another visit to your window.” he paused, letting the words settle without making them sound like a threat. 

you noticed something strange in his words.

“do you understand what i’m saying?” he asked.

“y-yes,” you managed to sputter out. to him, it probably just looked like you were intimidated by his warning.

“sorry,” he said quickly, tone softening. “i don’t mean to scare you. i have numerous experiences with losing people so maybe that’s why i’m so adamant about this. i don’t want to see anything happen to one of our students. especially a bright one like you.”

“thank you for looking out for me,” you said quietly.

“no worries at all.” he adjusted the trench coat on his shoulder and took a step toward the door. “well, i’ll be going now. get some rest soon and don’t push yourself too hard.”

“goodnight, professor,” you replied as he pulled the door.

the door clicked closed behind him. his footsteps echoed down the corridor, growing fainter and fainter until they disappeared completely.

you sat there for a long moment, staring at the closed door. you felt yourself break into a cold sweat.

“hey y/n, from the moment i was just an awkward loser in high school, you saw something in me no one else did. now i’m an awkward vigilante that carries danger around with me everywhere i go, but you’re still here with me. i don’t know what i did to deserve you, but i know i never want to spend another day without you by my side.”

jisung shook his head. “no, that’s…no.”

he was upside down, knees hanging bent over a narrow metal beam that jutted out from the very edge of one of seoul’s towers. the city sprawled beneath him like a glittering ocean of lights, hundreds of meters below.

he groaned, rubbing his face with both hands before flipping himself upright, landing lightly on the narrow platform.

“okay, try again,” he muttered to himself, rolling his shoulders.

he cleared his throat dramatically and began once more, this time with far too much enthusiasm:

“y/n, you’ve always been the perfect covalent bond that keeps me stable. you’re strong, unbreakable, and somehow still attracted to this mess of a molecule i call myself.”

jisung froze mid-sentence, lenses widening with his eyes in pure horror at his own words.

he immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, cheeks burning.

“no no no,” he groaned, voice cracking with embarrassment as he dragged both hands down his face.

jisung stopped pacing, took a slow, deep breath, and let the cool night air fill his lungs. he closed his eyes for a second.

“baby, you’re the only one who’s ever made me feel worth something even without the mask. you never stopped seeing me as han jisung. you make me feel like i’m enough, exactly as i am. that’s why i can’t imagine doing any of this without you anymore.”

jisung opened his eyes again, his voice growing softer. he swallowed hard, heart hammering against his ribs as he stared out at the glittering sea of lights far below.

“will you… marry me?”

the words died out. jisung blinked, suddenly aware of how quiet it had become up here. with a heavy sigh, he lowered himself down, legs dangling freely over the edge. 

he reached up and slowly pulled his mask off, the wind messing up his brown hair even more as it fell over his forehead. 

jisung’s hand slipped into the inner pocket of his suit. his fingers closed around his grandmother’s ring he’d been carrying with him for days. he pulled it out carefully and held it between his thumb and forefinger.

it was delicate and pretty, a thin layered design with a sparkling gem at the center that shimmered softly even in the low light. simple, but beautiful. just like the forever he wanted with you. he stared at it for a long time, turning it slowly in his fingers as the wind gently tugged at his hair.

it had been so hard to come up with the right words. he had so much he wanted to say he could probably write out a whole dissertation on how much you meant to him. but he wanted it to be perfect. no. greater than perfect.

he wanted to tell you how smart you are. he wanted to say how amazing you are to him, how you make even the hardest nights feel bearable, how your laugh still makes his stomach flip like it did back in high school.

jisung let out a soft, defeated sigh and leaned his head back.

before he could spiral any further, his phone suddenly buzzed in his other pocket. the cute upbeat ringtone he’d set just for you.

his heart jumped. he quickly tucked the ring back into his suit pocket and answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

“hey, baby,” he said, trying to sound casual.

your voice came through immediately, clearly worried. “jisung? where are you?”

he flinched at your tone. “i’m on the tower near my building,” he replied, glancing down at the glittering city far below. 

you went silent. jisung pressed the phone closer to his ear.

“baby?” he asked softly, voice dropping with concern.

when your voice came, it almost sounded like you were on the verge of crying. “i’m at the university, jisung. i have to talk to you about something.”

he blinked, brows furrowing. your voice made his spider-sense tingle faintly at the back of his neck, even though there was no immediate danger he could see.

“in person?” he asked, already pushing himself up from the ledge.

“yes,” you replied. “please. i can’t explain it all over the phone.”

“yeah okay, i’ll come right now,” he said, reaching for his mask with his free hand. “i’ll be there in two, tops,” he added gently, trying to infuse as much reassurance as he could into the words.

he ended the call and let out a sharp breath. he pulled the mask down fully over his face, the white lenses glowing to life as he locked his gaze on the distant university campus across the glowing seoul skyline.

without another second wasted, he leapt off the tower. webs shot from his wrists, catching the buildings as he swung across those few blocks.

what could be so bad that you couldn’t tell him over the phone?

jisung landed lightly on the side of a glass building, clinging for a split second before launching himself toward the next anchor point. the university greenery, the familiar architecture of the science wing standing out against the darkness.

he dropped down into a narrow, dimly lit alleyway behind the building that was far enough from the main paths that no security cameras would catch him. his feet hit the pavement with barely a sound.

jisung pulled his mask up just enough to uncover his mouth and nose, then tapped your contact and pressed the phone to his ear again. his heart was still racing from the swing over.

it rang only once before you picked up.

“hey, i’m here,” he said softly. 

you were just turning the corner from the main path. you quickened your steps toward the alley, phone still pressed to your ear.

“i see you,” you replied.

jisung turned at the sound of your footsteps as you were walking towards him. even in the low light, he could see the tension in your shoulders. his expression softened instantly with worry. he quickly scanned both ends of the alley to make sure he was alone, then reached up and pulled the mask off.

as soon as you reached him, he stepped forward, one gloved hand gently reaching out to brush your arm.

“what’s going on?” he asked. 

you swallowed hard, heart racing. 

“i might know who’s behind it all.”

he blinked, tilting his head slightly. “what?”

“it’s professor han,” you continued quickly. “and i know how crazy this sounds to you, but please hear me out—”

“wait, hold on.” jisung’s eyes widened, his head tilting slightly in disbelief. your boyfriend was by far the most expressive person you’ve ever met. you could say this is the most confused you’ve ever seen him. “are we talking about the same thing here?”

your heart pounded harder as you forced the next sentence out.

“i’m talking about who’s been endangering seoul.”

jisung’s hand froze on your arm, his fingers going completely still against the fabric of your jacket that was over your pyjamas. his brows pulled together even tighter, creating a deep crease between them. 

“and you think that’s professor han?” he repeated, almost like he was testing the words. he let out a disbelieving breath and pulled his hand back. jisung ran a hand through his wind-tousled hair, his expression turning more serious. “what are you even talking about?”

you stepped closer, eyes pleading. “you have to understand that i’m just trying to help you here.”

he took a small step back. the confusion was clear in his eyes, but underneath it you could already see the first sparks of frustration building.

“y/n, i had zero idea you were even looking into any of this anymore. i told you, i specifically told you, not to poke around, not to tell anyone about it, and definitely not to start accusing a respected professor of being a criminal mastermind!”

“jisung, will you just listen to me first!” you snapped, anger flaring hot in your chest.

you knew the conversation would go like this, but a part of you had still hoped he’d be more understanding. clearly that had been too much to ask.

“i’m trying to talk to you and you’re already shutting me down!” you continued, voice rising despite your best efforts to keep it quiet. “i know you told me to stay out of it and i heard you. but i can’t just do nothing! every time you leave, i’m the one left wondering if you’re coming back. so yeah, my instinct as your girlfriend is to do something about it”

jisung’s eyes widened slightly at your tone, but the frustration on his face only deepened. he opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance to interrupt.

“don’t stand there and act like i’m being reckless or delusional. i’m trying to help you. because if professor han really is connected to all of this, then you’re not just fighting random things, you’re fighting someone.”

you were breathing harder now, cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and the adrenaline of finally saying it all out loud.

“so yes, i went behind your back. yes, i looked into it. but i didn’t do it to spite you, jisung. i did it because i’m tired of sitting around feeling useless while you risk your life every single night!”

jisung closed his eyes and gripped the sides of your arms to show how desperate he was to make you understand.

“baby, you’re the farthest thing from useless anyone could ever be,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. he opened his eyes again, his dark brown gaze locking onto yours. “you stay up to care for my injuries. you let me crash with you even when i’m capable of staying at my own place.”

his grip on your arms tightened.

“that’s how you’re helping me, y/n, and i don’t need any more than that!”

you shook your head fiercely.

“but you do, jisung. that’s the problem you do need more,” you shot back. “because if we don’t figure this out any faster, i’m scared one day you just won’t come back to me.”

you took a shaky breath, eyes stinging as you stared up at him.

“and whether the end goal here is to kill you or not, and i don’t know yet because i haven’t found out that much, i know enough to see that you needed real help.”

jisung looked completely torn. he let go of your arms and took a step back, tilting his head all the way back as he stared up at the sky. a frustrated groan escaped him as he gripped fistfuls of his messy brown hair.

“jisung, just listen to how i know this—”

“goodness, baby” he muttered, voice strained. “you can’t just—”

“and i need you to not interrupt me while i’m speaking!” you snapped, voice rising with frustration. “please, for the love of—just let me explain!”

“fine, go!” he said through gritted teeth.

you took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady even though you were fuming

“the night before hyunjin’s party last week, a mutant came up to my window at around 2 or 3 am,” you began. 

jisung’s eyes widened instantly, his whole body going rigid.

“a mutant came to your dorm?”

you quickly added, “i got really, really lucky. i managed to stay calm so it didn’t attack me. after that, i was even able to take a small sample from its handprint before it left.”

“you what?” his voice came out low and dangerous. “y/n, this was last week! how am i only finding out about this now?”

“will you stop focusing on the fact that i didn’t tell you!” you fired back.

he opened his mouth again, but you kept going, determined to get everything out.

“i ran tests on the sample tonight in the lab. that’s why i was still there so late. i was hoping the mass spectrometer would show something useful. while i was waiting for the results, professor han walked in.”

you paused for a second, watching his reaction carefully.

“i trusted him. he’s always been the only person who actually listens when we talk about the strange things happening in seoul. but i kept it vague on purpose in case of the horrible possibility that he isn’t who i think he is.”

you swallowed.

“so after i told him what i encountered, he said something about having to be careful in case i got ‘another visit to my window.’ i never told him the mutant came to my window let alone mentioned my dorm. he just knew. that’s what’s so terrifying. how would he have known unless he’s connected to it somehow?”

“and i’m not 100% sure about this yet… but i just know it might be a possibility. he knew i was looking into this so he probably sent that thing to my room to scare me off or worse, attack me. then he told me not to share what i was doing with just anyone and that i should only talk to people i really trust. it felt like he was trying to make me trust him more, or fishing to see how much i knew.”

before you knew, your eyes were brimming with tears and your voice was becoming shakier by the second.

“and now i feel like i just outed you, jisung. i was trying to help, i swear i was, but now i’m panicking because what if he already suspects something? what if he already knows who you are? i just feel so stupid.”

jisung immediately shook his head, stepping closer to you again. his hands came up to gently to your shoulder

“baby,” he said softly. “it doesn’t matter how much he knows, okay? it doesn’t. i’d never be mad at you for outing me accidentally. you were smart enough to even figure all of this out on your own.”

he was looking at you now with no anger left in his voice. it felt so good to finally talk to jisung about all of this. he was always gonna be your person.

“but i’m also really scared for you right now. if professor han really is involved in all this… then you just put yourself right in his line of sight. and that terrifies me more than anything he might know about me.”

his hand moved to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“you’re not stupid, baby. not even a little. you’re brilliant. but please… promise me you won’t put yourself in danger like that again without me knowing.”

you nodded slowly, blinking back the tears as you whispered, “okay… i promise.”

“come here… come here, baby.”

he gently pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. one hand cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles along your back. he held you close, his chin resting on top of your head as he let out a long, shaky breath.

“but we’re in this together now, right? if i find something else, i’ll tell you first. and you’ll do the same.” you said, looking up at him hopefully.

“yeah,” he said. “and i’m not going to stop you or get mad at you for it anymore. but we’ll do it together.”

he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a second before pulling back to meet your eyes again. you couldn’t help the small, relieved smile that went across your face as his nose gently nuzzled against yours.

he couldn’t thank you enough for this.

the warm water cascaded gently over both of you, filling the bathroom with soft steam that wrapped around your bodies. you stood under the steady stream with your eyes closed, completely melting as jisung’s fingers worked through your wet hair with loving care.

his lips brushed your shoulder in a trail of soft, lingering kisses, moving lazily across your skin while he started massaging the spot behind your ears, your shoulders dropped and your mind drifted somewhere blissfully far away. you leaned back into him, feeling almost floaty.

“my perfect girl,” he whispered against your damp skin, voice low and honey-sweet.

jisung was feeling extra affectionate tonight. he pressed another kiss right where your neck met your shoulder, then rested his forehead there for a second.

you turned slowly in his arms, the water sliding over your skin as you faced him. his hands slipped from your hair.

you saw the dark strands plastered to his forehead and dripping water down his face. a few droplets clung to his lashes. you slid your arms around his neck, fingers threading gently through the wet hair at his nape and you pulled him down.

the warm water poured over both of you as your lips met. jisung’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him until your chests pressed together. the kiss deepened as he tilted his head, lips moving against yours.

you pulled back from his mouth to trail your lips down his jaw. jisung’s breath hitched when you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. then another, and another.

a shaky sigh escaped him the moment your lips found that sensitive spot right in the dip of his neck. his arms tightened around your waist, fingers pressing into your skin. he would melt every time loved on him like this.

as you kissed along his neck, jisung noticed the scent of your shampoo filling his lungs since you’d both just washed your hair. gosh, he loved that smell. 

he was also becoming hyperaware of the thick steam rising around you both. he paid attention to the calming sound of the water raining down. and he also noticed the feeling of your body pressed so perfectly against his.

every little sensation made him feel lightheaded. maybe because all his blood was going straight to his cock, he figured. you felt it immediately pressed against your stomach. 

he bent his head down and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your shoulder, lips brushing tenderly over your wet skin.

“i love you, jisung.” you whispered, voice barely louder than the falling water.

jisung smiled against your shoulder, his heart swelling. he lifted his head just enough to look at you, droplets clinging to his lashes.

“i love you too,” he murmured. “so much.”

next he knew, you started lowering yourself down to your knees in front of him.

jisung sucked in a breath. you looked up at him, giving him your best ‘fuck me’ eyes. the sight of your gaze with water streaming down your face and body nearly made his knees buckle.

“baby,” he breathed.

he took his cock in his hand, giving himself one slow stroke from base to tip as he guided the flushed head toward your lips. the tip glistened with water and a bead of precum. he tapped it lightly against your bottom lip, his voice dropping into a husky murmur.

“open for me.”

you wrapped your mouth around him, being careful with your teeth as you took as much as you could of him inside. you immediately felt him touch the back of your throat, the urge to gag strong, but you slid back off of him, your tongue swirling around his tip. you breathed through your nose as you sucked at the first couple of inches, using your hand to jerk off the rest.

you peered up at jisung, eager to see his reaction, and found him watching you. he swallowed, his jaw clenching. you took your eye contact as a chance to take his entire length down your throat, immediately making him curse and throw his head back. his hands flung to your hair, tugging it. he gently pushed you further down, your nose pressed against his torso for a few seconds before he released you. you pulled away for a breather, a string of saliva connecting your lips with his cock.

"so good," he muttered, pulling you back on for more. he used your mouth without hurting you, his hips thrusting back and forth slowly.

gagging noises filled the air until eventually he pulled off of you completely, groaning as his wet cock bounced back up to hit his stomach.

he slid the glass door open to take a condom from the drawer you kept nearby. at this point, the two of you had sex so often that condoms were basically scattered around both your dorms. you always had a box tucked in your nightstand and another in your bathroom drawer.

“turn around, baby,” jisung said, his voice husky. his eyes were half-lidded like he was drunk on the sight of you.

you obeyed instantly, turning to face the tiled wall. you planted your hands against the cool surface and arched your back, pushing your ass back toward him until his cock only half an inch away from your heat. 

the sound of the packet ripping echoed softly over the running water. jisung rolled the condom down his cock, his gaze locked on how dripping wet you were. your pussy was slick from your arousal and the shower water. he bit his bottom lip hard, trying not to groan out loud at the sight. jisung always thought you were the prettiest human being on this planet.

he nudged the swollen head of his cock against your soaked entrance, sliding it up and down your slippery folds, coating himself in your wetness. you whimpered softly at the gentle pressure.

“i want it, sungie,” you said sweetly.

who was he to deny your request?

when he slowly pushed in, you were so wet that he slid in smoothly, but you still felt so tight around him. from this angle, he was so deep you swore it felt like he was hitting your throat.

a breathy moan spilled from your lips the moment he bottomed out, your palms pressing harder against the tile wall for support. jisung started moving, his hips forcing your body forward with each thrust. 

you noticed jisung was quieter than usual so you slowly turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. his head was tilted back, exposing the sharp line of his adam’s apple as it bobbed. his eyes were closed and his face scrunched up beautifully every time he pushed in.

you couldn’t stop staring, soft moans falling from your mouth with every roll of his hips. 

then jisung’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he caught you looking.

a lazy smile spread across his face, eyes dark as he locked gazes with you. that smile sent a fresh wave of butterflies exploding in your stomach, and your pussy clenched hard around his cock without warning.

jisung let out a low groan at the sudden squeeze, his rhythm faltering for just a second.

“what are you looking at?” he asked, though the blissed-out expression never fully left his face. 

“you just…” the words got caught in your throat when he gave a particularly deep thrust. “you look so lost in it,”

jisung’s smile widened. without a word, he bent over you, pressing his chest flush against your back. his lips found the curve of your shoulder and trailed soft kisses along your skin.

you moaned loudly as he started fucking you faster. “jisung!” you moaned, the sound breaking into a whimper.

he groaned right against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass repeatedly.

“are you gonna cum?” he murmured, voice strained with pleasure. “without me even touching your little clit?”

you nodded frantically, another broken moan falling from your lips as the pressure built fast. “i can, i’m so close.”

“come on, baby,” jisung growled softly, his hand sliding up to grip your hip tighter, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust. “give it to me. let me feel you cum all over me.”

his words, combined with the relentless pace and the way he was kissing and biting at your shoulder, pushed you right to the edge. you moaned loudly, the sound echoing off the tiled walls as your orgasm crashed through you. 

the feeling of you tightening and gushing around him sent him into his orgasm as well. a moan tore from his throat as he spilled into the condom. 

he groaned, forehead dropping to rest between your shoulder blades as he rode out his release.

for a long moment, your heavy breaths filled the room.

eventually, jisung let out a long, satisfied sigh. he pressed one last soft kiss to your shoulder before slowly pulling out of you. he reached down, carefully removed the condom, tied it off, and tossed it into the small trash bin just outside the shower.

you straightened up slowly, your legs a little shaky, and turned around to face him. the warm water continued cascading over both of you as you looked up at him.

he cupped your face gently with both hands and leaned in, kissing you slow and deep. the kiss was full of love rather than lust. when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“tomorrow,” you whispered against his lips, still a little breathless, “we’ll look more into professor han, okay? i have a good feeling about this.”

jisung let out a soft chuckle, the sound rumbling warmly in his chest. he shook his head, nose brushing against yours.

“baby, please don’t talk about prof han right after we just made love.”

“sorry, sorry,” you said quickly.

jisung laughed softly again, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer. 

he knew without doubt he wanted forever with you.

you guys guessed it!! as always, thank you for reading!!!!

@star-my @seungminnieinthebuilding @internetmemeofficial @imnota-bot-iswear @feelikecinderella @hyunjinniemylove @fabdancer34 @estella-novella @jinniezret @bangchans-girl @7sunny07 @hanjisrockstar @chansguittar @shadequeen712 @skzophreniic @i-bitch-you-bitch @thequeenofdramaqueens @pineapple-in-a-burgah @mikachux3 @chans-motivation-drink-143 @bunbunbl0gs @salalalalami @gyuzies

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[leeknowlore]

🕸️🕷️✮⋆˙ LOG 5 — INTERVENTION (chapter 5 of my spiderman!jisung series)

pairing: han jisung x fem!reader, college spider-man au, established relationship synopsis: the issue with having a double life is that on top of everything spider-man has to deal with, han jisung still has his own problems. it’s only natural for you to wanna carry some of that weight for him, even though he’s made it clear he doesn't wanna get you involved warnings: ~7k words, established relationship, fluff, alcohol consumption, explicit content (MINORS DFNI!!), angry sex, switch! reader and jisung, reverse cowgirl, spanking, protected sex, dirty talk, lowk brat!jisung

a/n: hey loves 🥹 i’m incredibly sorry for disappearing for two whole months 💔 i know that’s such a long time and you guys have been so patient with me. i spent forever rewriting this chapter but it’s finally here now and i’m so happy!

the spider.

an extraordinary species.

eight limbs to support its balance rather than merely six. perfect adhesion to glass, steel, concrete, and even inverted surfaces. a reaction time measured down to milliseconds. sensitivity that could chart its surroundings through the slightest vibration in the air.

indeed, it was a masterpiece of nature.

inside the glass container, the arachnid tested the perimeter.

the curious man stood outside the glass, observing its every movement. he reached for the syringe. the radioactive material inside it emitted a faint glow as he injected the spider.

slowly, he pressed the plunger. the radioactive material flowed into its body.

the spider convulsed, its legs scraping against the glass.

naturally, fine hairs stood on the man’s arms. he carefully placed the empty syringe on the steel tray but couldn’t tear his eyes away.

the spider started undergoing the changes. its legs grew longer and its body thickened. he saw how the spider moved faster and developed a mind of its own. 

he observed closely for signs of instability. the last spider had turned on itself within minutes.

the man smiled when he saw that this one did not.

“look at you.”

“look at you!”

you burst out laughing, practically falling forward onto jisung's chest as you pointed at the absolute disaster he’d turned into overnight.

jisung blinked up at you. his hair was sticking up in at least four different directions. he’d slept like a baby. it was that easy to tell.

his favourite moments were late mornings with you when sunlight would spill through your curtains, warming the sheets. 

but those mornings usually went one of two ways: either waking to your lips all over him, or waking up to your endless teasing. unfortunately for him, today you’d chosen the second.

“stop laughing at me,” he groaned and threw an arm over his face.

he peeked at you through his elbows

you were sitting up against your pillows, legs tangled in the blanket, one hand braced behind you. the light caught the slope of your shoulder and traced down your collarbone.

“i can’t wait to wake up to you like this forever.” he mumbled with a dazed smile.

you huffed, rolling your eyes. “you act like you don’t sleep over almost every other day.”

he shot upright so fast the mattress bounced beneath you. 

“i don’t!” he was sitting up now as well, messy hair falling onto his forehead from the sudden movement. “i’ll have you know i haven’t slept in your bed in almost a week.”

“how fucking tragic.” you said flatly, sliding your legs off the bed. you could almost hear the whiny voice building up in his throat like it always did before he was about to burst.

you stood, stretching your arms above your head as you walked toward the window. the light was soft but muted behind the curtains.

“for the record, i have very valid reasons for coming! i risk my life everyday,” he added dramatically. “the least you could do is greet me with a little appreciation—”

you reached for the curtain and tugged it open.

light spilled in.

your eyes fell on a handprint on your window, and your stomach dropped.

behind you, your boyfriend kept running his mouth.

“—and i just think if we’re being fair—”

his voice blurred like someone had dunked your head underwater.

you had woken up comfortable in the illusion of normalcy. you told yourself that what you saw at the window last night was just your brain playing tricks after weeks of mutant attacks and distant sirens bleeding into your sleep.

no. no, what happened last night was just a dream. a deadly mutant wouldn’t have come by your window and left you unscathed.

but you remembered it too clearly for it to be a dream. you remembered how your breath picked up as the mutant pressed its skinless palm against the window and stared you down.

and plus, how were you supposed to convince yourself it wasn’t real when the evidence was right in front of you?

“y/n?”

your breathing grew shallow, eyes locked on the glass.

“baby.”

the room snapped back into your focus when he called the name you often answered faster than your actual name.

“you okay there?” he asked, eyes narrowed at your stiff posture.

you reached up and tugged the curtain shut again. the room dimmed instantly.

“yea, it’s just…way too bright with it open,” you said, looking down at the floorboards. anything to avoid those big, expressive brown eyes.

he didn’t buy it for a second.

his stupid spider-sense was probably pinging like a smoke alarm right now. maybe you had some of your own, judging by the way you could feel his gaze like darts without even looking at him.

you dropped back onto the bed beside him, shoulder-checking him hard enough that he let out a dramatic “ouch.”

his arms slid around you and he tugged you in closer until you were against his chest, chin hooking lightly over the top of your head. “you sure you’re okay?” he asked. 

you pulled away almost instantly, faking an annoyed huff. “why wouldn’t i be?” 

“i don’t know!” he threw his hand up defensively. “you just feel…”

feel what?

tense?

scared?

like prey?

you swallowed.

“i mean, you’d tell me if something was wrong…” he continued. “right?”

here’s the thing. you couldn’t just sit here and do nothing anymore.

he didn’t have time to play detective. you did.

and the mutant coming to your window was information jisung could actually use if he ever had five free minutes that weren’t spent bleeding or napping face-down on your floor.

you’ve had enough of the “i swing around saving the city while you sit here looking pretty and worried.” if he’d stop being a stubborn idiot for once and let you make progress, maybe he wouldn’t come home looking like roadkill every other night. you’re supposed to be in this together, right?

so if you told him, he’d absolutely lose it and overthink every possible reason a mutant would show up at your window specifically. then, he would do absolutely anything—beg, bargain—to keep you as far from his case as possible.

you tilted your head slightly, letting a small smile curve your lips. “if something was wrong,” you said carefully, “you’d be the first to know.”

it was true, he would be the first to know. if you kept it to yourself.

jisung let out a tired breath, “alright, baby,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself it was fine. 

he then leaned in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you kissed back without hesitation, hand sliding to the side of his neck. when he started to pull away you chased him, catching his bottom lip gently between yours. he let out a quiet laugh against your mouth, the sound vibrating between you.

he grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, arms locking around you. he pulled away and mumbled against your lips, “i love you,”

your fingers played with his disastrous hair. “i love you too, bugboy.”

he smiled and buried his face in the crook of your neck. his lips brushed your neck gently.

then a ringing went off on his phone.

his arms loosened a fraction, letting out a defeat sigh. your eyebrows slanted downwards in concern, knowing what that usually meant. it certainly wasn’t the first time you two were interrupted by something like this.

he reached for his phone on the nightstand without sitting up all the way. the screen lit his face as he pulled up the live news feed he always kept pinned.

indeed, there was a headline posted seconds ago reporting suspicious activity in hongdae with multiple sightings of entities near the university area. students were advised to seek immediate shelter, and the police are on scene.

that’s his cue.

you quickly moved to the side as he got ready. he pulled the suit out of his backpack and put it on like second nature. he took his mask out and pulled it over his head.

you walked to the window before he could, unlatching it with hands that didn’t shake. not visibly, anyway.

he turned to you, gloved fingers catching the bottom edge of the mask and tugging it back up just enough to reveal the bottom half of his face. he gave you one last kiss before pulling it back down.

“don’t go out until it’s reported clear, alright?” his voice was slightly muffled under the mask, “i’ll try and reach out after.”

you nodded once. “promise.”

“love you,” he said.

“love you too, be safe.”

he gave you a quick nod then flipped backward out the window. a faint web shooted out somewhere above, and then nothing. 

you sighed, and reached up to pull the window shut. your eyes dropped back to the handprint on the glass. 

you’d successfully kept jisung from seeing it. at least for now.

you were reaching for the cleaning spray and a rag, ready to wipe the evidence away, when a better idea hit you.

wait.

you spun toward your desk under which you kept your first aid stuff for spiderman. you yanked it open, rummaged past the bandages and antiseptic wipes, and pulled out a swab kit. you tore the packaging open with your teeth and pulled the window back open. you dragged the stick carefully across the palm area, collecting whatever faint residue had been left behind.

the tip came away faintly discoloured. you sealed the swab back in its tube, snapped the cap on, and shut the window again. 

“you stupid things!”

spider-man shrieked as one of the mutants lunged, claws slashing across his chest plate. the strike missed by a millimetre.

“nice one,” he mocked, now walking backwards. “you know, if you wanna look like voldemort, at least get the nose right.”

he always thought the mutants looked like him. it was easier to laugh at something that looked like the villain from his favourite movies than admit how fast his heart was hammering under the suit.

then his spider-sense tingled. his eyes widened, lenses dilating as he spotted a young girl, maybe high school age, backed against a shop shutter. a second enemy had her pinned while she kicked uselessly.

he shot a web-line straight at the mutant's extended arm. it screeched as spiderman pulled it with the second one. 

“over here, you freaks!”

both of the pale beasts were dragged toward him. spiderman webbed their feet to the ground in quick bursts then sprinted to her, dropping to one knee.

“are you okay?”

“my leg…” she cried, tears streaking her face. blood seeped through her jeans where claws had grazed her.

“we’ll get you help, okay?” he kept his voice soft. he gently lifted her, cradling her against his side while firing a web upward to a balcony railing.

he swung them both up in one smooth arc, landing on the balcony where a group of people were already huddled. he set her down carefully, ripping a strip from a banner to tie a quick tourniquet around her thigh.

“ambulance is coming, brave girl. you're gonna be fine.”

she sniffled, “thank you, spider-man.”

as he made his way back down the block toward where he'd left the two webbed mutants, a ringtone started going off.

jisung fumbled at his ear where he linked his suit to his phone the first few months he became spiderman. he tapped the side of his mask to answer.

“hello?”

“jisung-ah!” a familiar, warm voice burst through.

“grandma?” he said it out of breath, boots hitting pavement again as he jogged into the narrow alley. shit. the two freaks were gone.

“it’s so nice to hear your voice, my boy. it gets deeper every time we talk.”

he smiled under his mask despite the current situation. he scanned rooftops, alleys, nothing. the mutants had vanished. “how are you? eating okay? not overdoing it with the garden again?”

she laughed softly. “i'm fine, fine. you sound out of breath. what's all that noise?”

jisung jogged deeper into the alley in search of the creatures. the torn webs dangled. “uh… i’m late for a study group. you know me, always rushing.” he forced lightness into his tone, sweet as always with her. “what did you call me for?”

“just wondering if you got something from me,” grandma continued, cheerful as ever. “i sent it a few weeks ago.”

jisung darted deeper into the alley, balancing the call while vaulting over a dumpster. “um, i’ll be sure to check when i get home. thank you, grandma.”

“you do check your mail, right, my boy?”

he gulped. he hadn't opened his mailbox in months. “what did you send?”

“it’s my old wedding ring.”

jisung almost choked on his own spit. his foot caught on a loose brick; he stumbled, catching himself against the wall. 

“i talked it over with your grandfather. you've been with that sweet girl for so long now.”

“grandma—”

“have you thought about asking her to marry you?”

jisung swiped a hand over his face.

“i…yeah. all the time, actually.”

he shot a quick web upward, pulling himself to a low ledge so he could scan better while talking.

“i don’t know, grandma. it’s not that i don’t want to. i do. more than anything.” he hesitated, voice dropping. “it’s just… things are complicated right now. you know what the situation is with seoul right now.”

there was a long silence on her end. “the brave ones still choose to build something lasting in it, jisung-ah.”

he closed his eyes for half a second.

“the ring is there when you’re ready. but don’t wait forever. she sounds like she’d fight the world with you.”

jisung’s throat tightened. “she would,” he whispered. “she already does.”

a sudden skittering noise came from behind. his spider sense buzzed like never before. 

his grandma's voice pulled him back. “but speaking on that, how many times have i told you you should move out of the city? it's far too dangerous now! we've had so many people move back into town. a lot of gentlemen your age, too.”

“yeah, i know, grandma. it's just, university is great here and…” he trailed off, eyes locked on a flicker of a pale figure disappearing around the corner. 

“um, there's something i have to handle right now. i'll call you again. i love you.”

“i love you too, my boy. be careful.”

“i will. promise.”

the call ended.

the second he lowered his hand, the alley went quiet.

“fuck,” he hissed under his breath.

he walked through the alley, steps deliberate, eyes scanning every shadow and ledge. 

“come out,” spider-man said. “we’re not done.”

a spike of the familiar sensation went straight through his skull. 

he whipped around just as the mutant dropped down to attack him.

he fired a web from his left shooter, thick strands wrapping the creature’s torso. it tore straight through them, lunging at him. spiderman’s boots skidded on concrete as the mutant pinned him against the wall, one massive clawed hand clamping around his throat. 

the hero choked out a grunt.

“get… off…” he rasped.

he could feel his suit tear at his neck, the sting of the creature’s dirty nails breaking skin. spiderman was starting to feel his own blood trickling down his neck. 

normally, seeing or feeling his own blood brought a strange, sick comfort. it made him feel human again. for a few seconds he could pretend the spider bite never happened, that he was just a college kid who tripped over his own feet and bled like anyone else. he'd always wished for that normalcy because it would let the weight slip off even for a bit.

black spots appeared at the corners of his vision as the grip tightened. 

just as his breathing became restricted, an idea came to his head. 

he angled his right wrist and shot thick webs shot straight into the mutant’s slit-like mouth and flattened nostrils. a white seal blocked its airways in seconds. its claws flew up to its face, scrabbling desperately at the webbing, tearing at its own skin. 

when the grip on spiderman’s throat released, he dropped to his knees. the mutant staggered back, wheezing through the web.

spiderman pushed himself up on one hand. a proud grin spread under the mask.

“that’s it. choke on your own face, ugly.” he rasped. 

he straightened, rolling his shoulders, ready to finish it or shoot another snarky comment about poetic justice. 

but he had seemingly forgotten about the second enemy.

another fist swung into his face with no warning his spider-sense had time to process through the haze.

the last thing he registered was his own body hitting the ground.

“spiderman’s stooped so low now.”

“did you guys see him get socked in the face like a bitch today?”

“honestly, what a fucking bore! even the police handled it better. people can really stop worrying about him ‘taking jobs’.”

you heard it all tonight. every single word spat from the mouths of familiar faces who suddenly thought they were critics and comedians all at once.

the gross guys you’d seen lurking around parties for years. the girls infamous for sucking three dicks in one night. wow. you were being particularly mean tonight. 

well, good. they deserved it.

you leaned against the kitchen island at hwang hyunjin’s penthouse loft. hyunjin was a filthy rich art prodigy at the prestigious university in hongdae. back in high school, he and jisung hadn't always gotten along due to their clashing personalities. but they'd ended up close after. the strongest friendships were forged in fire, you figured. you admired hyunjin for that, and for throwing this party and giving people a night to forget seoul wasn’t lurking with monsters. 

“baby.”

you jumped at the slurred voice right beside you.

jisung was swaying slightly, holding the beer can you’d limited him to after realizing he’s had too much to drink. the aluminum can was crushed from him not controlling how much strength he was using. his cheeks were flushed pink, and his brown eyes were pleading.

“do you think i can take one more shot without being too hammered to save the city if it calls me?” he asked way too loud.

three of your friends nearby turned, eyebrows raised. mina stifled a giggle behind her hand.

you flashed them an embarrassed smile, cheeks warm from your own drinks. “sorry, he’s just joining in on mocking spider-man tonight. i’m really not a fan of it, but you know…men. they all get a little jealous.”

“why would they be jealous of me?” jisung said with a smile.

your eyes widened as you pushed him back gently by the shoulders. “i’m getting you water, baby.”

“no, i don’t need any. i want another shot,” he whined, face dipping toward your neck.

you laughed and dragged him along toward the cupboard. you rummaged until you found a clean shot glass. you recognized it as one of hyunjin’s souvenirs from iceland. careful with that. you filled it with cold water from the fridge dispenser.

“hey, look!” you said brightly, holding up the shot glass filled with clear liquid. 

jisung squinted. “i saw you get it from the fridge.”

“more for me then.” you tilted it to your lips, faked a grimace, and clutched your throat. “it’s burning, jisung. i think i’m gonna be sick. look away!”

“oh no!” he spun around idiotically. “where’s the bathroom?!”

you quickly refilled the glass, pressed it into his hand when he turned back. you leaned into him, faking nausea by clutching your stomach and pressing your forehead to his shoulder. “i think i'm okay now… but i really think you should take this next shot instead of me. i'm done for tonight.”

he nodded frantically and downed it in one gulp. to your surprise, he then held the empty glass out without complaining about it not being alcohol. you laughed and swapped it for a solo cup this time, filling it with more water. he took it obediently, chugging it down in a few seconds. 

you didn't want him hungover tomorrow in case another emergency called him, although it was unlikely to happen after today. the cuts on his neck and chest from this morning healed fast. but the dizziness from that knockout punch was still there, so letting him get drunk off his ass tonight felt risky. 

your heart ached a little, though. all night you'd heard what people were saying about spiderman’s unfortunate mishap today. every word was a jab at the boy standing in front of you.

“what’s wrong, baby?” his voice cut through your thoughts, thumb brushing your cheek clumsily. 

“hm?” you murmured, blinking.

your heart warmed because he noticed these things even when he wasn’t in his right mind. you hadn't even realized your expression had slipped.

“oh, it’s just—” you started.

to your horror, a loud, obnoxious voice sliced through the noise from the living room.

“i don’t know why every bitch on campus suddenly wants to get railed by spider-man.”

your head snapped toward the sound. a cluster of guys walked towards the kitchen counter. 

another laughed, louder. “right? he definitely cries after every fight.”

“or during. imagine guy gets hurt and starts whimpering. no wonder girls eat that shit up.”

“he probably has to web women to the bed just to get laid.”

it wasn't like you to see red so fast, but the alcohol had seemed to stripped away your filter.

it was such a disgusting thing to say. and an awful thing for you to hear considering you’re his girlfriend.

“yeah,” the guy snorted. “imagine the disappointment when the suit comes off. bet he’s packing nothing under there anyway.”

the next thing you knew, your fist was flying.

it connected with the dude’s cheek. he stumbled back, beer sloshing onto his knuckles, groaning in pain. the room erupted in gasps and shouts.

jisung flinched, getting flashbacks for a second.

you shook out your hand, knuckles stinging. in your slightly drunken state, the ache felt almost satisfying.

“y/n!” mina rushed over, grabbing your arm. 

the guy rubbed his jaw, glaring. “what the fuck is your problem?”

“my problem,” you said, stepping forward, “is assholes who talk shit about a man who's out there fighting for this city while you sit here running your mouth! maybe you’ve got a closeted thing for him ‘cause you’ve clearly spent way too much time thinking about what’s under his suit!”

“you’re a psycho bitch!” he yelled, raising his arm only the slightest.

before you could even blink, jisung shoved the guy’s head down onto the kitchen counter with force. if he was a second late you’d probably end up with a blow to the face as well.

the room went dead silent. everyone saw how inhumanly fast jisung intervened. 

“try that again and i’ll cut your dick off!” your boyfriend yelled.

he realised then that he sounded more intimidating than he probably hoped. then again, this was han jisung. no one had ever pictured him being brave enough to raise a hand at anyone.

hyunjin appeared just in time, stepping in before jisung could follow through with his words.

“that’s enough.” his voice was like velvet over steel. “i don’t wanna call security on my own friends.”

jisung released the guy slowly, stepping back. he realized how close he’d come to giving himself away. his eyes flicked to you, wide and guilty. 

hyunjin gave the guy a sharp look which made him mutter something incoherent as he stumbled away, rubbing his jaw. the crowd parted reluctantly. a few heads turned to stare back at you and jisung as they retreated. you felt awkward under all those eyes, heat crawling up your neck, but you had no regrets. everyone had heard the trash-talk all night. they all thought it was vile. only you had voiced your thoughts, or rather put them into action. 

hyunjin exhaled through his nose, shoulders dropping a fraction.

“you might not feel it, but you both have had a bit much to drink.” his lips twitched like he was swallowing a laugh. “i just think you two need to cool off. jisung looks like he’s about to shit himself, and you’re still angry as a hornet.”

you shot hyunjin a look sharp enough to cut.

he patted your boyfriend’s back. “jisung, you know the code to the guest room. go be away from people for a bit.”

jisung reached for your wrist. “c’mon,” he mumbled.

you let him tug you toward the hallway, but you threw one last glance back at hyunjin, mouthing a small ‘sorry’, in which he returned with a smile.

jisung punched the code in. the fancy door clicked open with a beep before he pushed it open. the room looked straight out of a hotel with its crisp white sheets, massive bed centered, and soft lighting that made the ambiance too calm for how wired you still were.

when the door closed behind you, jisung flopped onto the edge of the bed, looking up at you with bleary eyes. “you got quite worked up there, didn’t you?” he teased, the words slurring.

normally, he would have known better than to say that, but he was drunk and clearly had a reduced thought process at the moment.

“did you hear what he said?” you yelled. “he’s lucky i didn’t just kill him right there!”

jisung let out a drunken laugh, only adding fuel to the fire. 

“cool off my ass,” you muttered, spinning toward the door again. “i’m not done with that son of a—”

“woah, easy.” he was up in a flash despite the sway in his stance, catching your arm to stop you.

you whirled back to face him, yanking your wrist free. “how are you not pissed right now? they’ve been saying that shit about you all night.”

contrary to you, jisung was as calm as a cucumber. for some reason you’d expected him to be sulking.

“you have to admit,” he said, a small smile tugging at his mouth, “it was kinda funny.”

what the fuck was wrong with him? was he trying to piss you off?

“no it wasn’t!” the words exploded out of you. “they were saying disgusting things about you and you’re just gonna take that and laugh it off like it’s a joke?”

he knew exactly how much he was getting under your skin. his eyes, glassy from the drinks, stayed locked on yours like he was daring you to keep going.

you stared at him, chest heaving. “god, you’re pissing me off so much right now. you don’t even understand.”

“yeah?” he leaned forward enough that you could smell the alcohol and his cologne on him. “tell me more.”

you stared at him. the calm was gone from his face now. his breath was coming a little quicker and his pupils were blown wide. he was clearly getting off on this. you could feel it too. the anger had nowhere else to go, but to the heat in your stomach. 

“you think this is funny?” you said, walking over to him and pointing your finger at his chest. “you think me wanting to rip someone’s head off for talking about you like that is funny?”

his hands came up settling on your hips. his thumbs brushed the bare skin where your miniskirt had ridden up slightly, and the touch sent a jolt straight through you.

“no,” he said softly. “i think it’s hot. that you’d do that. for me.” his voice cracked just a little on the last word. “and yeah, maybe i like seeing you this mad. because it means you care this much.”

your eyes softened for a second before they narrowed again. “this is not foreplay.”

jisung’s lips curved, the drunken haze doing nothing to dull the spark in his gaze. he pulled you closer until you were obligated to sit on his lap. his other palm stayed low, thumb dragging lazy circles just under the hem of your skirt.

“but clearly you’re pissed.” he leaned in until his mouth brushed the shell of your ear. “and i know how to help you with that.”

your stomach flipped, heat surging straight between your legs. “i can’t even look at you right now,” you snapped, turning your face away. 

“well,” he smiled smugly, “good thing there are positions other than missionary, baby.” he said.

“you’re such an asshole,” you whispered. your hand slid up to fist in his hair. his head tipped back with a soft, surprised grunt.

“baby—”

“shut up.”

you kissed him hard and he groaned into your mouth immediately, hands sliding to cup your ass. you broke away just long enough to shove him backward. he hit the edge of the mattress and went down willingly, pulling you with him. you straddled his lap before he could even catch his breath, knees bracketing his hips, palms planted on his chest to keep him pinned.

jisung helped you take your top off before cool air kissed your skin as he tossed it somewhere behind him. your bra followed a second later as he unclasped it with one hand. he was always in awe at the sight of your boobs even though he’s probably seen them even more times than you’ve ever looked at them in the mirror.

your hands moved on their own to grab the hem of his shirt and rip it upward. he lifted his arms obediently, letting you drag the fabric over his head. you raked your nails down his bare chest.

“what would hyunjin say,” you breathed, “if he knew we did it on his guest room bed?”

jisung grinned as he sat up, chest pressing to yours, and reached behind you for the zipper on your skirt. he shoved it down along with your panties in one tug, lifting you to yank both off your legs. you kicked them away, completely bare now, skin flushing hot under his stare.

“i think i know what he meant by ‘cool off,’” jisung answered with a smile. 

he reached over to the nightstand, and opened the drawer to reveal a box of condoms. hyunjin really did think of everything for his guests. your eyes widened a little but the surprise only lasted half a second before you took one from jisung.

his hands were already working his own jeans open, shoving them down his thighs with his boxers. his cock sprang free and he kicked the rest of his clothes off the edge of the bed. 

you ripped the foil and leaned over to roll it slowly over his cock.

jisung hissed a little as you smoothed it down to the base, purposefully adding pressure. 

“plus,” he said through his teeth, “if you want to get messy so bad… i’m sure he gets a cleaner in the morning.”

you rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest again. jisung’s back hit the mattress with a surprised huff, eyes widening as you swung one leg over and spun around. your knees planted on either side of his hips, back to him now, ass arched high and fully on display. 

“what?” he blurted, voice cracking with shock. his hands hovered like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch. “baby—”

you cut him off, reaching back to grab his cock and line him up without even glancing over your shoulder. he was harder than you’d expected since foreplay wasn’t needed tonight for either of you.

“you said it yourself that there are other positions.” you snapped, voice edged with the same heat that had started all of this. “and tonight i don’t want to see your stupid face while i use you.”

jisung let out a stunned laugh before he was cut off when you sank down onto him until your ass was flush against his hips. 

“fuuuck” he groaned, head falling back against the mattress.

you bit your lip hard and squeezed your eyes shut at how good it felt. your hands trembled a little as you braced them on the bed, your thighs already shaking from how full he felt. 

jisung’s hand went up without thinking, slapping your ass and grabbing your hips.

“don’t touch,” you snapped instantly.

his hands jerked away, going to fist in his own hair instead, fingers twisting tight in the dark strands until his knuckles turned white. a whimper tore from his throat, hips twitching helplessly beneath you.

“i’m sorry,” he gasped, eyes squeezed shut.

you slammed down harder in retaliation, your own moan slipping free despite how hard you were fighting to stay in control. the heat of him dragged against your walls so perfectly it made your vision blur at the edges. 

it was ironic as hell how those idiots had spent the whole night joking about how small his dick must be under the suit, when right now he was stretching you open. actually, you’d see the not-so-small outline under the spandex plenty of times, cheeks burning every time you stared too long.

jisung was being so good beneath you, hands either yanking hard at his own hair or covering his face so he wouldn’t disobey and touch you without permission. his chest heaved, every muscle in his arms flexing from the restraint. but you were getting tired and your legs were starting to shake harder, breaths coming in short high-pitched pants.

jisung noticed immediately, seeing every tremor in your body. he was good at reading his enemies’ body language at their weakest moments, no matter how hard they tried to hide it. it must’ve trained him to spot every tiny tremor in you.

“can i take over?” he pleaded. “please. let me… let me help.”

you hesitated half a second, still trying to cling to control, but the exhaustion won. you gave a single nod.

jisung’s hands went to your hips as he lifted you up. he planted his feet flat on the mattress, knees bending up in front of you.

you blinked, confused for half a second before he started fucking into you frantically.

“jisung!” you gasped. 

he bottomed out each time, the new angle making you scream. his cock slammed straight into that spot inside you over and over, the sound of your slick and your moans making everything filthy.

“jisung, oh my god,” you choked out, voice cracking. your knees were barely holding you up as he pounded into you.

you threw your head back, your hand flying to your mouth as you put your knuckle between your teeth and bit down, trying desperately to muffle the moans spilling out of you with every relentless thrust.

“fuck baby, it feels so good,” he whined. “i can hear how soaked you are.”

his hand slid from your hip, down between your thighs. the second his fingers found your clit he started rubbing fast circles that made your whole body jolt. your slick coated his fingers instantly, dripping down over his knuckles.

you felt the burn behind your eyes as tears pricked. your knuckle stayed trapped between your teeth but it wasn’t enough to hold in your moans.

“i’m gonna cum,” you cried out. “it’s coming, jisung, i can feel it.”

“me too, oh goodness, me too,” he whimpered. 

his other hand slapped down on your ass again, making your pussy clench around him.

“cum on my cock, baby, let me feel it.”

a few tears spilled over your lashes as one of the heaviest orgasms you’ve had crashed through you, ripping a scream from your throat that you couldn’t have held back even if you tried.

his voice cracked into a groan that sounded dangerously close to a sob. his hips stuttered once, then slammed up one final time and stayed buried to the hilt. you felt the condom swell inside you as he came.

his fingers kept rubbing your clit in sloppy circles, milking every last drop out of you while his cock twitched and jerked inside. your scream faded into pants as the orgasm finally ebbed.

after a long moment he carefully lifted you off him. the slide of his cock pulling out made you both groan softly. he tied the condom quickly, tossing it into the small trash bin by the nightstand, then grabbed the box of tissues hyunjin kept in the guest rooms. he wiped you first and you were still too floaty to do anything but let him.

“you okay?” he whispered. 

you nodded, too tired to answer him.

he smiled tiredly, then cleaned himself up too before tossing the tissues away. he found your clothes first and helped you put them back on, his fingers lingering sweetly on your skin. he then tugged his boxers and jeans up his legs, then pulled his shirt over his head. 

once you were both dressed, jisung tilted his head towards the bathroom.

“come on, baby,” he murmured.

inside the brightly lit bathroom, you grabbed the hairbrush sitting on the marble counter and ran it through your tangled strands, trying to smooth out the obvious mess before walking back out there. jisung stepped up behind you, peering over your shoulder at the mirror.

you let out a laugh the second you saw the messed up state of his red cheeks and teary eyes.

he caught your eye in the mirror and laughed too which made your chest warm. “shut up, you made me cry a little, okay?” he reached around you to turn on the faucet, washing his hands quickly before cupping them under the cold stream and splashing water over his face. droplets ran down his cheeks and jaw as he shook his hair like a wet puppy.

“better?” he asked, wiping his face with a towel.

you turned around and flicked a stray droplet off his nose. “marginally.”

you hopped up onto the sink counter, the cool marble a sharp contrast to your warm skin. jisung stepped forward, caging you in with his arms planted on either side of your hips. you reached up, cupping his face in both hands. his round cheeks were still flushed and his big brown eyes were locked on yours. he leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering. your boyfriend was so beautiful.

“i love you,” you said softly.

“i love you too,” he answered. he closed the distance and kissed you slowly. 

when he pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead rested against yours. “you know why i’m not upset about what people say about me?”

you tilted your head. “why?”

“i’ve got enough people who love me to care about the ones who hate me,” 

it was true. most of seoul loved spider-man for his heroic deeds: saving people from burning buildings, stopping runaway buses, webbing up villains before they could hurt anyone. no one could imagine the city without him. you’d seen little kids at birthday parties with spider-man cakes, their faces smeared with red or blue frosting as they blew out candles and wished for a picture with the hero. 

“but it still doesn’t make it okay,” you said. “those were crazy words to say about someone who’s never done anything wrong to them.”

you sighed, fingers slipping under the hem of his black shirt to graze the honey-toned skin underneath. he’d been getting tan since summer started.

“i mean…how do you just listen to that and move on?”

“have you forgotten who i was in high school?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips. “han jisung was the easiest target for bullies.”

you winced at the memory. you remembered that back in high school there was a guy named chorong, who insisted everyone call him “flash” because his korean name sounded like a girl’s and he desperately wanted to move to america. he made jisung’s life hell for no real reason—shoving him into lockers, mocking his voice, spreading rumors—even though jisung was always ten times smarter and twice as kind. you remembered the days he’d come to school with red eyes, pretending it didn’t bother him, but you always knew.

“so this is nothing, baby,” he continued, voice gentle. “you think i can’t take a few comments from guys who could never do what i do?”

you couldn’t help a small smile. it was nice to see him proud of his power, even if you knew how often he still wished to be “normal again.”

“then i guess whatever they say doesn’t matter, right?” you said, thumb brushing over his collarbone.

“not at all,” he answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “especially when my girlfriend’s out here throwing punches. super badass, if i may say.”

you chuckled and leaned in to peck the tip of his nose.

“nothing’s more badass than spider-man.”

thank you for reading! jeez now you get a little backstory on jisung's highschool years 😟 i hope you enjoyed this chapter <33 i promise we’ll start moving deeper into the main plot from the next chapter onward :)

@star-my @seungminnieinthebuilding @internetmemeofficial @imnota-bot-iswear @feelikecinderella @hyunjinniemylove @fabdancer34 @estella-novella @jinniezret @bangchans-girl @7sunny07 @hanjisrockstar @chansguittar @shadequeen712 @skzophreniic @i-bitch-you-bitch @thequeenofdramaqueens @pineapple-in-a-burgah @mikachux3

[blued-inked]

| It's Nice to Meet You - Lee Minho

(•˕ •マ.ᐟ || Minho documents every moment of the only love he'll ever have, because she won't remember any of them by morning.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Lee Minho x Reader Category: Angst. Word Count: 16k

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The door opened and closed too quietly.

Minho stood in the entryway for a long moment, just staring at the wall. His shoulders were up somewhere near his ears, his bag still slung across his chest like he'd forgotten it was there. The kind of day that didn't have a name. Not a bad day in the dramatic sense, no disasters, no fights, nothing he could point to and say that's what broke me. Just a thousand tiny cuts. A schedule that ran overtime. A producer who talked over him. A dancer who kept missing the same count, and Minho had to smile and say "again, you've got this" when what he wanted to do was scream.

He heard you before he saw you. The soft pad of bare feet on hardwood. Then you were there, in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing his hoodie and absolutely nothing else of consequence.

You looked at him. Just looked.

No questions. No "how was your day?" No "what's wrong?" Just your eyes, scanning his face, reading the lines he hadn't learned how to hide yet.

Then you turned and walked back into the kitchen.

Minho blinked. He should probably move. He should probably take off his bag. He should probably, 

The sound of your voice, slightly muffled because you were already on the phone. "Yeah, the usual. Double the dumplings. And the spicy rice cakes. Yes, to this address. Thanks."

Minho's bag hit the floor.

By the time he made it to the kitchen, you were leaning against the counter, phone tucked between your ear and shoulder, scrolling through something on yours. You caught his eye and, there it was. That small, crooked smile. The one that said I see you. I've got you. You don't have to say anything.

You hung up. "Forty minutes."

"How did you-"

You shrugged, like it was nothing. Like you hadn't just reached into his chest and massaged the knots out of his heart without him saying a single word. "You get this little line. Right here." You stepped forward and pressed your fingertip gently between his eyebrows. "Between the eyes. Means you need dumplings."

He caught your wrist. Held it. Pressed his lips to your palm.

"I love you," he said, and it came out wrecked, because it was true in a way that terrified him sometimes.

"I know," you said softly. Then you tugged him toward the couch. "Come on. There's a variety show marathon. You're not allowed to think until the food gets here."

You pulled him down beside you, and he went willingly, gratefully, his head finding its natural resting place on your shoulder. Your fingers found his hair.

He still hadn't told you about his day. He didn't need to.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho woke to the sensation of drowning.

Not literally. But there was something in his mouth, something soft and vaguely offensive, and he was already mid-cough when he opened his eyes to find Soonie's tail draped directly across his face like a mustache from hell.

He sputtered. Swatted blindly. Soonie, offended by this betrayal, leapt off the bed with a yowl of protest.

Beside him, you were shaking.

Not with cold. Not with fear. With laughter. Silent, shoulder-shaking, hand-over-your-mouth laughter that you were desperately trying to contain and failing spectacularly.

Minho turned his head. Blinked at you with cat hair clinging to his eyelashes. "You saw that."

"I saw nothing," you gasped. "I was asleep. Completely asleep."

"You let him suffocate me."

"You're so dramatic. He was just-" You lost it, a snort escaping despite your best efforts, and that set you both off. Minho tried to stay dignified, he really did, but your laugh was infectious, that full-body thing you did, and soon he was laughing too, cat hair be damned.

You reached for him. He leaned into it instinctively, the way he always did, the way he'd been doing for years without thinking. Your thumb found the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, brushing away the evidence with a tenderness that made his chest ache.

"There," you murmured, still smiling. "All better. Very handsome."

He caught your thumb with his lips before you could pull away. Pressed a kiss to the pad of it. Watched your eyes go soft and warm.

"You have cat hair on your face too," he whispered.

"Liar."

"Absolutely. Right there." He leaned in, touched his nose to yours. "Let me get it."

And he kissed you, slow and sweet, tasting morning and you and the life he still couldn't quite believe was his.

When he pulled back, you were looking at him with that expression. The one that undid him every single time. Like he was something precious. Something miraculous.

"What?" he asked, suddenly shy.

You just shook your head, still smiling. "Nothing. Just-" You reached up, tucked a piece of hair behind his ear. "You're here."

It wasn't a question. It was a statement of wonder. Like you couldn't quite believe it either.

"Where else would I be?" he asked.

You didn't answer. You just pulled him back down, cat hair and all, and held on.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

It was 3:47 AM.

Minho knew this because the clock on his nightstand glowed green and accusatory, and he'd been staring at it for the better part of an hour. Sleep wouldn't come. It happened sometimes, his brain refusing to shut off, replaying the day's choreography, worrying about tomorrow's schedule, spiraling about things that hadn't even happened yet.

He turned over, intending to stare at the ceiling instead, and froze.

You were facing him. Asleep, clearly asleep, your mouth slightly open, your breathing deep and even, one hand tucked under your pillow. The moonlight from the window painted half your face silver.

And Minho couldn't look away.

He'd seen you asleep a thousand times. A thousand nights of this. You stole the blankets. You talked in your sleep sometimes, nonsense words that made him smile. You reached for him in the dark, your hand finding his chest or his arm or his hair, pulling him closer even in unconsciousness.

But tonight, for some reason, it hit him differently.

How?

How did someone like you, you, with your laugh and your kindness and the way you remembered that he liked his coffee with just a splash of milk, the way you defended him to people who didn't matter, the way you looked at him like he hung the moon, how did someone like you choose someone like him?

He wasn't being self-deprecating. He genuinely didn't understand it. He was loud, sometimes too much. He was competitive, sometimes too much. He was insecure in ways he'd never learned to hide, and you'd seen all of it, the ugly parts, the tired parts, the parts he tried to keep from the world, and you'd stayed.

Not just stayed. You'd chosen him. Every day. For years.

Your hand twitched in your sleep, searching. Finding his arm. Curling around his bicep like it belonged there.

Minho's breath caught.

He lifted his free hand, slowly, carefully, and hovered it just above your cheek. Not touching. Just feeling the warmth radiating from your skin. Just tracing the shape of you with his eyes.

I don't deserve you, he thought. I don't know what I did to deserve you.

But he was too selfish to give you up. Too in love to question it too hard.

"I'll spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of you," he whispered, so quiet it was barely air. "I hope that's okay."

You stirred, just slightly. Your lips curved, just slightly. A sleepy, unconscious smile.

"Love you," you mumbled, the words slurred and soft.

Minho's eyes burned.

He closed the distance, pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, and finally, finally felt sleep tugging at him too.

"Love you more," he whispered against your skin. "Always."

Outside, the world kept spinning. Inside, in the dark, with you in his arms, Minho had everything he'd ever need.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

It started with the rice.

Minho was standing at the stove, stirring the kimchi jjigae he'd been perfecting for months, your favorite, the one you always asked for when you'd had a hard day, when you appeared in the kitchen doorway. Same hoodie. Same bare feet. Same soft look on your face.

But something was different.

"Hey," you said. Casual. Easy.

"Hey yourself," he replied, not turning. "Dinner's almost ready. I added extra tofu, like you-"

"Minho?"

Something in your voice made him turn. Made the spoon pause mid-stir.

You were holding the rice cooker insert. Empty. Looking at it with an expression he couldn't quite read. Confusion? Frustration? Something in between.

"Did we..." You trailed off, shook your head slightly. "Sorry, this is dumb. Did we already eat? I was about to make rice and I can't remember if-"

"You asked me to make dinner," Minho said slowly. "An hour ago. You said you were craving the jjigae."

You blinked. Looked at the rice cooker. Looked at the pot on the stove. Looked at him.

"Right," you said, but it came out wrong. Too quick. Too automatic. "Right, of course. Sorry, I just-" A small, self-deprecating laugh. "Brain fog. Long week."

Minho smiled. He made himself smile, because that's what you do when someone makes a joke, when someone explains away a tiny, insignificant thing.

"Yeah," he said. "Long week."

You set the rice cooker down. Came up behind him, wrapped your arms around his waist, pressed your face between his shoulder blades. He felt you breathe in, slow and deep.

"It smells amazing," you mumbled against his back.

He covered your hands with his. Held them tight.

"Anything for you," he said.

—

Three days later, you forgot Dori's name.

You were on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when the ginger menace jumped into your lap and started kneading your stomach with intense, focused determination.

You laughed, scratching behind his ears. "Hey there, buddy. Where'd you come from?"

Minho looked up from the photo album he was organizing, a project, he'd told you, just for fun, just to have all the pictures in one place.

"His full government name is Dori," he said lightly. "But he also answers to 'the menace' and 'get off the counter.'"

You smiled. Nodded. Kept scratching.

And Minho watched you.

Watched you look at the cat you'd had for four years. The cat you'd found as a kitten, soaking wet in the rain, and carried home in your hoodie pocket. The cat you'd named after your favorite character from your favorite movie, the one you made Minho watch at least twice a year.

You didn't say his name. You just called him "buddy."

Minho told himself it was nothing. You were distracted. You were tired. You called people the wrong names all the time, you'd called him Jisung once, early in the relationship, and they'd never let either of them live it down.

It was nothing.

It was nothing.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

You brought it up yourself, a week later.

Minho was in the bedroom, folding laundry, your sweater, his shirt, the socks that never seemed to match no matter how carefully he paired them, when you appeared in the doorway.

You looked... small. That was the only word for it. Small in a way that made his chest tighten.

"Hey," he said, setting down the sweater. "What's up?"

You didn't come in. You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over your chest, and stared at a spot on the floor.

"I need to tell you something."

The words landed like stones in still water. Minho felt the ripples before he understood why.

"Okay," he said carefully. "I'm listening."

You took a breath. Held it. Let it out.

"It's happening more often. The-" You gestured vaguely at your head. "The forgetfulness. Little things. What I went into the kitchen for. A word I was looking for. Whether I already told you something." A pause. "I forgot Chan's name yesterday. When we were texting. I had to scroll up to see who I was talking to."

Minho's hands had gone still on the laundry.

You looked up. Met his eyes. And he saw it, the fear. The real, raw fear you'd been hiding behind smiles and self-deprecating jokes for weeks.

"I'm going to call my doctor tomorrow," you said quietly. "Talk about it. It's probably nothing. Stress, or sleep, or-" You stopped. Swallowed. "But I wanted you to know. Before I... before I didn't."

Minho crossed the room in three steps. Took your face in his hands. Pressed his forehead to yours.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for telling me."

You let out a shaky breath. Leaned into him. Let him hold you up.

"It's probably nothing," you said again, like a prayer.

"Probably," he agreed, because he needed to believe it.

But his heart was already pounding. Already knowing. Already starting to break.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

That night, you fell asleep in his arms, your breath warm against his neck, your hand curled loosely over his heart.

Minho didn't sleep.

He lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of you against him. Listening to the sound of your breathing. Committing it to memory. Every inhale. Every exhale. The way your eyelashes fanned against your skin. The tiny mole behind your ear that you hated and he loved.

It's probably nothing.

He wanted to believe it. He wanted to wake up tomorrow and have you be fine, have this be a blip, a scare, a story you'd tell later with a laugh and an eye roll.

But somewhere, deep in his gut, he knew.

Something was wrong.

And for the first time in his life, Minho had no idea how to dance his way out of it.

He tightened his arms around you. Pressed his lips to your hair.

"I've got you," he whispered into the dark. "No matter what. I've got you."

You stirred, mumbled something unintelligible, and settled deeper against him.

Outside, the world kept spinning.

Inside, Minho held on tight and prayed to every god he didn't believe in that tomorrow would be different.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho was in the middle of practice when his phone buzzed.

He ignored it. Choreography was already behind schedule, and Jisung kept messing up the transition, and Chan had that look on his face that meant they weren't leaving until they got it right. One more run. Then another. Then another.

His phone buzzed again.

And again.

He glanced at it between takes. Your name on the screen. Three missed calls.

His blood went cold.

"Give me a second," he muttered, already reaching for his phone, already stepping away from the mirrors and the music and the bodies around him.

"Hyung, we're in the middle-"

"Give me a SECOND."

The studio went quiet. Minho didn't notice. He had the phone to his ear, your contact photo staring back at him, you at the beach last summer, squinting into the sun, laughing at something he'd said.

You picked up on the first ring.

"Minho?"

Your voice. But wrong. Thin and stretched and scared in a way he'd never heard before.

"I'm here," he said quickly. "What's wrong? What happened?"

A breath on the other end. Shaky. Too shaky.

"I'm at the doctor's office. The, the neurologist. I came in for those tests, the memory ones, and they-" You stopped. He heard you swallow. "They want me to call someone. To come in. They said I shouldn't be alone for the results and I didn't know who else to-"

"I'm coming."

"The traffic is bad this time of day, you don't have to-"

"I'm coming. Send me the address. I'm coming right now."

He was already grabbing his bag. Already heading for the door. Chan called after him, worried, confused, and Minho just shook his head, couldn't form words, couldn't do anything but move toward you.

"Minho?" Your voice, small through the phone.

"I'm coming," he said again. "I'm almost there. Just, just stay on the phone. Okay? Stay on the phone with me."

"Okay."

He ran.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The neurologist's office smelled like antiseptic and old magazines.

Minho burst through the door like a man being chased, hair disheveled, chest heaving, still in his sweat-soaked practice clothes. The receptionist looked up, startled, but he was already scanning the room, already searching, 

You stood up from a chair in the corner. You looked so small. That was the only word for it. Small and pale and young in a way that made his heart crack right down the middle. You were wearing his hoodie again, the gray one, the one you'd stolen months ago and never given back, and your hands were shaking.

He crossed the room in four steps and pulled you into his arms. You crumpled against him. Let him hold you up. Let him be the thing that kept you from falling apart right there in front of everyone.

"I didn't know who else to call," you whispered into his chest. "They said to bring someone and I just, I just wanted you. I just wanted you here."

"I'm here," he said fiercely. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

A door opened. A nurse with a kind face and sympathetic eyes looked at them both.

"The doctor will see you now."

Minho took your hand. Squeezed tight.

"Together," he said.

You nodded. Squeezed back.

Together.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The doctor's office was small. Cluttered with diplomas and anatomical diagrams and a box of tissues placed strategically on the corner of the desk. Minho hated it immediately. Hated the tissues most of all.

You sat in the chair across from the doctor. Minho stood behind you, one hand on your shoulder, because he couldn't sit. Couldn't be still. Needed to be touching you or he might shatter.

The doctor was a woman. Middle-aged. Gentle eyes. The kind of face that delivered bad news for a living and hadn't quite learned how to hide the toll it took.

"Thank you for coming in," she said to Minho. Then she turned to you, and her expression shifted into something carefully neutral. "I have the results of your cognitive assessments and the MRI."

Your hand found Minho's. Squeezed.

"Okay," you said. "Just, just tell us."

The doctor nodded. Opened a file. Looked at it for a moment, then set it aside and met your eyes directly.

"The MRI shows significant hippocampal atrophy. That's the area of the brain responsible for memory formation and retrieval." A pause. "Combined with your cognitive test results and the symptom pattern you've been reporting, we've arrived at a diagnosis."

The room was very quiet.

"It's a form of early-onset neurodegenerative disease. Specifically, a variant of accelerated retrograde amnesia." The doctor's voice was gentle but unflinching. "It's rare, especially in someone your age. But the pattern is clear. Your brain is struggling to consolidate new memories and is beginning to degrade existing ones, starting with the most recent and moving backward."

Minho's hand tightened on your shoulder. You reached up and held it there.

"What does that mean?" you asked. Your voice was steady. Too steady. "What does that mean for, for us? For our life?"

The doctor hesitated. Just for a moment. But Minho saw it. Saw the way she braced herself before continuing.

"The progression rate varies, but based on the scans, we're looking at an accelerated timeline. The memories you've formed in the last few years are the most vulnerable. As the disease progresses, you'll lose them. First recent events, then older ones. Eventually-" Another pause. "Eventually, you may lose most of your autobiographical memory. The people in your life. The experiences you've had."

"You're saying," Minho heard himself speak, his voice rough and strange, "you're saying she'll forget. She'll forget everything."

The doctor looked at him with those gentle, terrible eyes.

"I'm saying we need to prepare for that possibility. There are treatments that may slow the progression. Therapies that can help with coping strategies. But yes. The trajectory suggests significant memory loss over the coming months."

Months.

The word hung in the air like smoke.

You turned in your chair. Looked up at Minho. And he saw it, the moment you realized what this meant. What this would do to him. To the life you'd built together.

"Minho-"

"No." He shook his head. Dropped to his knees in front of you so you were eye to eye. Grabbed both your hands in his. "No. Don't. Don't you dare start worrying about me right now."

"But if I forget-"

"Then I'll remember." His voice cracked. He didn't care. "I'll remember for both of us. Every single day. I'll be here every morning and I'll tell you who I am and I'll make you fall in love with me again and again and again if that's what it takes."

Tears were streaming down your face. You didn't seem to notice.

"That's not fair to you," you whispered. "That's not, you can't spend your life-"

"Watch me."

He said it like a vow. Like a challenge to the universe itself.

The doctor was saying something about treatment plans, about support groups, about clinical trials. Minho heard none of it. He was too busy looking at you. Committing this moment to memory. The way your nose crinkled when you cried. The way your bottom lip trembled. The way your hands shook in his.

"I love you," he said. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere. Do you understand me? I'm not going anywhere."

You nodded. Swallowed. Nodded again.

"I love you too," you whispered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry." He pressed his forehead to yours. "Just, just don't forget this. Don't forget this right now. Me telling you. Me promising you. Hold onto this as long as you can."

Your fingers curled around his.

"I'll try," you breathed. "I'll try so hard."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Neither of you spoke in the car. Minho drove. You stared out the window. The city passed by in a blur of lights and shapes and people going about their ordinary lives, completely unaware that the world had ended.

At a red light, you reached over and took his hand.

He looked at you. You were still staring out the window, but your fingers were laced through his, holding on like he was the only solid thing left.

"Can we get ice cream?" you asked quietly. "The place with the weird flavors? The one we went to on our first date?"

Minho's throat closed.

"Of course," he managed. "Yeah. Of course we can."

You smiled. Small and sad and beautiful.

"Good," you said. "I want to remember that."

The light turned green.

Minho drove.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Later, after the ice cream, after the crying, after the phone calls to family that neither of you had the strength to make yet, you fell asleep in his arms.

Same as always. Same position. Same warmth. Same soft breathing against his neck.

But everything was different now.

Minho lay awake, staring at the ceiling, and for the first time in his life, he was afraid of the morning.

Because tomorrow, you might wake up and know him.

Or tomorrow might be the first day you didn't.

He held you tighter. Pressed his lips to your hair. Closed his eyes against the dark and made himself a promise.

I'll be here. Every single day. I'll be here.

Outside, the world kept spinning.

Inside, Minho began to say goodbye to someone who was still, impossibly, right there in his arms.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho didn't sleep.

He watched the clock change. 2:13 AM. 3:47. 4:02. 5:19. The numbers glowed green and indifferent, and he watched them all, your body warm against his, your breath steady, your hand curled over his heart like it had always belonged there.

At 6:34, the alarm went off.

Not his. Yours. The one you set every morning because you liked to wake up slowly, to stretch and groan and burrow deeper into the pillows before finally surfacing.

The sound cut through the quiet like a blade.

You stirred. Mumbled something. Shifted away from him, reaching for the phone on your nightstand to silence it.

Minho held his breath.

You turned back over. Faced him. Your eyes were half-lidded, sleepy, soft in the pale morning light filtering through the curtains.

And then you blinked.

Focused.

Looked at him.

Your body went still.

Minho felt it happen. Felt the exact moment the warmth in your eyes flickered and died, replaced by something else. Something cold and unfamiliar.

Stranger danger. That's what they called it in animals. That instinctive freeze when confronted with the unknown.

You were looking at him like he was the unknown.

"Hi," he whispered. His voice was wrecked. He hadn't used it in hours. Hadn't cried either, not yet, but his voice was wrecked anyway.

You pulled back. Just slightly. Just enough to create space between your bodies. Your hand slipped away from his chest.

"Who-" You stopped. Swallowed. Your eyes darted around the room, the familiar walls, the unfamiliar man, the cats sleeping at the foot of the bed. "Who are you?"

The words hit him like a physical blow.

He'd known this was coming. He'd prepared for this. He'd promised himself he'd be strong, be gentle, be whatever you needed him to be.

But knowing and feeling were two different things.

"I'm Minho," he said. His voice cracked on his own name. "I'm your, I'm your boyfriend."

You stared at him.

He watched your brain working, searching for something, anything, that would make this make sense. Your brow furrowed. Your lips parted. Nothing came.

"I'm sorry," you said, and it was polite. So painfully, horribly polite. The voice you used with strangers who stopped you on the street. "I don't, I don't remember."

Minho nodded. Swallowed. Nodded again.

"That's okay," he lied. "That's, that's okay. The doctor said this might happen. You have a condition. It affects your memory. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

You were still looking at him like he was a puzzle you couldn't solve.

"How long?" you asked quietly. "How long have we been together?"

Four years. One thousand four hundred sixty-one days. Thirty-five thousand sixty-four hours. I stopped counting the minutes because it hurt too much to realize I'd never get them back.

"A while," he said instead. "A few years."

You looked down at yourself. At his hoodie you were wearing. At the bed you were in. At the cats who were still sleeping, oblivious, at the foot of it.

"I should-" You started to move, to get up, to escape. "I should go. I shouldn't be here. This isn't, I don't know you, I shouldn't be in your bed, I'm sorry-"

Minho's heart shattered.

"No, no, wait-" He reached for your hand, then stopped himself, hand hovering in the air between you. "Please. Just, can I show you something? Before you go? Please?"

You hesitated. Looked at his hand. Looked at his face.

Something in his expression must have reached you, because slowly, carefully, you nodded.

Minho reached for his phone on the nightstand. Hands shaking. Opened his photos. Scrolled past a thousand memories you no longer carried.

He turned the screen toward you.

It was a photo from two summers ago. You at the beach. Sand in your hair. Ice cream on your nose. Laughing at him for taking yet another picture, for documenting everything, for being ridiculous and sweet and so in love with you it was embarrassing.

You took the phone. Studied the image.

"That's me," you said quietly.

"Yeah."

"And that's..." You looked up at him. Back at the photo. At the way his arm was wrapped around your waist, the way he was looking at you in the picture like you were the sun. "That's you."

"Yeah."

You stared at the photo for a long time.

Minho watched you. Committed this to memory too. The way the morning light caught your eyelashes. The way your lips moved slightly as you tried to find words. The way your hand trembled holding his phone.

"I don't remember," you whispered finally. "I'm sorry. I don't remember any of it."

The tears came before he could stop them.

He turned his face away, wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, tried to get himself under control. But they kept coming, silent and hot, because you were right here and you didn't know him and you were sorry and God, it hurt, it hurt so much worse than he'd ever imagined.

"I'm sorry," you said again, and now you sounded scared. "Please don't cry. I didn't mean to, I don't know why I'm here, I don't know you, I'm sorry-"

"It's not your fault." He forced the words out through the wreckage of his throat. "It's not your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm just, I'm just sad. That's all. I'm just sad."

You reached out.

Hesitated.

Then, gently, so gently it broke him all over again, you touched his cheek. Wiped a tear away with your thumb.

The gesture was so familiar. So you. Even when you didn't know him, your body remembered. Your body knew how to comfort him.

He looked up. Met your eyes.

You were looking at him with confusion, yes. With fear, yes. But underneath it, something else. Something soft. Something curious.

"You really love me," you said quietly. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah." His voice broke on the word. "Yeah. I really do."

You held his gaze for a long moment. Then you looked down at his hand, still lying on the bed between you. Slowly, carefully, you reached out and took it.

"I don't remember you," you said. "But I think, I think I'd like to. If that's okay."

Minho squeezed your hand. Held on like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

"That's more than okay," he whispered. "That's everything."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

You sat at the kitchen table in his hoodie, your hoodie, the gray one, but you didn't know that, and watched him make coffee.

He could feel your eyes on him. Studying him. Trying to piece together who this stranger was who claimed to love you.

"What's my favorite food?" you asked suddenly.

He turned, surprised by the question. "Tteokbokki. The spicy kind. You say it's the only food that's allowed to make you cry."

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. "That's specific."

"You're specific. You have opinions about everything. You once spent twenty minutes explaining why the rice at that one restaurant was wrong. I didn't understand half of it, but I loved watching you talk about it."

You ducked your head. Almost shy.

"What else?"

He leaned against the counter. Let himself look at you. Really look.

"You hum when you're happy. Not songs, exactly. Just, melodies. Made-up ones. You don't realize you're doing it." He paused. "You steal the blankets. Every single night. I wake up freezing and you're wrapped up like a burrito and I wouldn't change it for anything."

Your cheeks pinked.

"You snore," he continued, smiling now despite everything. "Just a little. Only when you're really tired. You deny it every time I mention it. You say I'm lying and then you fall asleep on my chest and snore again."

"I do not."

"You absolutely do. It's adorable."

You laughed. Just a small one. Just a breath. But it was real.

And Minho realized, with a ache so deep it almost doubled him over, that this was his life now. Collecting your laughs like precious coins. Hoarding every smile. Falling in love with you over and over again, knowing you'd forget by tomorrow.

He brought you coffee. Made it exactly how you liked it, light roast, a splash of milk, no sugar. Handed it to you.

You took a sip. Your eyes widened.

"This is perfect," you said. "How did you know?"

"I know everything about you," he said simply. "Every single thing."

You looked at him over the rim of your cup. Something shifted in your eyes. Something warmer.

"Tell me more," you said softly. "Tell me everything."

And so he did.

He told you about the first time he saw you, at a friend's party, laughing at something, your whole body committed to it. He told you about your first date, the ice cream place with the weird flavors, how you'd ordered something called "sweet potato and honey" and made him try it. He told you about the cats, how you'd found Dori in the rain and carried him home in your hoodie pocket. He told you about the way you danced when you thought no one was watching, all wrong and beautiful and so perfectly you.

You listened. Asked questions. Laughed in the right places. Cried a little when he told you about the night you first said "I love you."

And when he finished, when his voice was hoarse and his coffee was cold and the morning had somehow slipped away into afternoon, you reached across the table and took his hand.

"I don't remember any of it," you said quietly. "But I believe you."

"That's enough," he said. "That's more than enough."

You squeezed his hand.

"Will you be here tomorrow?" you asked. "When I wake up and don't remember again?"

The question hit him like a blade between the ribs.

"Yes," he said fiercely. "Every tomorrow. Every single one. I'll be here."

You smiled. That small, kind smile. But underneath it, something else. Something that looked almost like hope.

"Okay," you whispered. "Okay."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

That night, you fell asleep on the couch watching a movie.

Minho carried you to bed. The same bed you'd woken up in this morning, terrified of the stranger beside you. The same bed you'd share tonight, trusting him because he'd spent the whole day earning it.

He tucked you in. Pulled the blankets up to your chin. Brushed the hair from your face.

You stirred. Mumbled something. Your hand found his and held on.

"Minho," you whispered. Just his name. But you said it like you knew him. Like you remembered.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm here."

"I'm glad." Your eyes were still closed, your voice thick with sleep. "I'm glad you're here."

Tears slid down his cheeks. Silent. Endless.

"Me too," he whispered. "Me too."

He stayed there until your hand went slack, until your breathing evened out, until he was sure you were asleep. Then he pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead and whispered the words he'd say every night for the rest of his life:

"I love you. I'll see you tomorrow. I'll make you fall in love with me all over again."

He turned off the light.

Walked to the living room.

Sat on the couch in the dark and finally, finally let himself break.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The apartment had changed.

Not in any way a stranger would notice. The furniture was the same. The photos on the walls were the same. The cats still slept on the same pillow, chased the same sunbeams, meowed at the same time every morning for food.

But the apartment had changed.

There were sticky notes now. Dozens of them. On the bathroom mirror: Your name is ____. You are safe. Minho is your person. On the refrigerator: Food inside. Eat something. Minho made it. On the nightstand: This is Minho. He loves you. You love him too.

Minho had gotten good at writing them. Short. Clear. Kind. Nothing that would scare you, nothing that would make you feel broken.

He wrote new ones every night before bed, because you'd been known to wake up in the middle of the night disoriented, and he needed you to see his words before you saw your own panic.

Tonight, he sat at the kitchen table with a stack of sticky notes and a pen that was running out of ink.

The photo album sat in front of him.

He'd finished it last week. Three months of work, distilled into fifty pages. Your life together. Your love story. Page after page of proof that you had existed, that you had been happy, that you had chosen each other.

He'd shown it to you this morning.

You'd flipped through it slowly. Studied each photo like a detective examining evidence. Asked questions he'd answered a hundred times before.

Who's this? That's us at the beach. You buried me in the sand and then left me there to get ice cream.

When was this? Two years ago. Your birthday. You said you wanted to go somewhere warm, so I booked flights that night.

Why are we making that face? Because you dared me to eat a whole lemon and I actually did it. You laughed so hard you cried. That's you crying in the photo. Right there.

You'd laughed at that. Genuinely laughed. And Minho had felt his heart crack open and heal itself in the same breath.

But then you'd gotten to the last page. A photo of the two of you at home, ordinary Tuesday night, you in his lap and both of you smiling at the camera like idiots in love.

You'd stared at it for a long time.

Then you'd looked up at him, and your eyes were wet, and you'd said the words that would haunt him forever:

"I wish I could remember loving you. It must have been amazing."

He'd held it together until you went to take a shower. Then he'd sat on the bathroom floor and cried into a towel so you wouldn't hear.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

You came out of the bedroom wrapped in his hoodie, the gray one, always the gray one, even though you didn't know why you loved it so much, and sat across from him at the kitchen table.

He slid a cup of coffee toward you. Perfectly made.

You smiled your thanks. Took a sip. Made that small satisfied sound that made his chest ache.

"I have a question," you said.

"Anything."

You set down the cup. Looked at him with those eyes that held no memory of him but held everything else, your kindness, your curiosity, your stubborn beautiful soul.

"Why do you stay?"

Minho blinked. "What?"

"I've been here a month. I know because of the notes. I write the date on them now, so I can keep track." You tapped the edge of the table. "Every morning I wake up and I don't know you. Every morning you're here, with coffee and kind eyes and a photo album full of a life I don't remember. And I just-" You shook your head. "Why? Why do you stay? This has to be destroying you."

Minho was quiet for a long moment.

Then he reached across the table and took your hand.

"You want the truth?"

"Always."

He took a breath. Held it. Let it go.

"The first week, I thought I couldn't do it. I thought it would kill me. Waking up every day to the person I love most looking at me like a stranger. Having to introduce myself over and over. Watching you search your own mind for something that isn't there anymore." His voice wavered. He steadied it. "I cried every night. I cried in the shower. I cried in the stairwell so you wouldn't hear. I thought about leaving. Not because I didn't love you, but because I thought maybe you'd be better off without some stranger in your apartment every morning, claiming to be yours."

Your hand tightened on his.

"But then-" He smiled. Small and sad and real. "Then I'd make you coffee. And you'd take that first sip and make that little sound. The one you've made every morning for four years. And you'd look at me over the cup, and you'd smile, and you'd ask me a question about myself. Because that's who you are. You're curious. You're kind. Even when you don't know me, you want to know me."

Tears were forming in your eyes. You didn't blink them away.

"Every day, I get to fall in love with you all over again," he continued. "Every day, I get to see you for the first time. Your laugh. Your smile. The way you scrunch your nose when you're thinking. The way you talk to the cats like they understand every word. Every single day, I get to discover you again."

He squeezed your hand.

"And every night, when you fall asleep in my arms, you hold onto me. Even when you don't know who I am, your body remembers. You reach for me in the dark. You say my name in your sleep. And I think, I think maybe some part of you knows. Some part of you remembers loving me. Even if your mind can't."

A tear slipped down your cheek. You didn't wipe it away.

"So that's why I stay," he whispered. "Because loving you, even like this, especially like this, is the best thing I've ever done. And I'm not going to stop. Not ever."

You were crying now. Quietly. Beautifully.

"You deserve so much better than this," you said.

"I have you," he replied. "That's the only thing I deserve. That's the only thing I want."

You stood up. Walked around the table. Climbed into his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in his shoulder.

He held you. Rocked you gently. Pressed kisses to your hair.

"I don't know why I love you," you whispered against his neck. "I don't remember why. But I do. I feel it. Right here." You pressed your hand to your chest. "It's like, like my heart knows you even when my head doesn't."

Minho closed his eyes. Let the tears fall.

"That's enough," he breathed. "That's everything."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Later, you fell asleep in his arms. Same as always. Same position. Same warmth. Same soft breathing against his neck.

But tonight, something was different.

Just before sleep took you, you stirred. Lifted your head. Looked at him in the dim light from the window.

"Minho?" you whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

His heart clenched. "I know, baby. I know."

"What if one day I wake up and I don't just forget you? What if I forget how to love? What if I forget how to feel?"

He pulled you closer. Held you tighter.

"Then I'll love you enough for both of us," he said. "I'll feel enough for both of us. I'll remember enough for both of us. You don't have to be scared. I've got you. I'll always have you."

You looked at him for a long moment. Searching his face. Finding whatever it was you needed to find.

Then you smiled. Soft and sleepy and so beautiful it hurt.

"I believe you," you whispered. "I don't know why, but I believe you."

"That's all I need."

You kissed him. Just a gentle brush of lips. Just a promise.

Then you settled back against his chest, your hand over his heart, and within minutes you were asleep.

Minho lay awake, staring at the ceiling, holding you close.

And he thought about all the tomorrows ahead. All the mornings he'd wake up a stranger. All the coffees he'd make. All the introductions. All the photo albums. All the moments of recognition that would fade by nightfall.

It would be hard. It would be devastating. It would break him over and over again.

But right now, with you in his arms, breathing softly, trusting him even though you didn't know why, 

Right now, it was worth it.

It was all worth it.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

At 3 AM, Minho carefully extracted himself from your arms. You stirred, mumbled, but didn't wake.

He went to the kitchen. Sat at the table. Pulled out a fresh sticky note and the pen that was almost out of ink.

He wrote:

Good morning. I'm Minho. I'm the luckiest person in the world because I get to love you. Today, I'll make you coffee. I'll show you photos. I'll tell you stories. And by the end of the day, you'll smile at me like I'm someone special. You'll hold my hand. You'll fall asleep in my arms.

You won't remember tomorrow. But I will. I'll remember every single second.

And I'll be here. Waiting. Ready to fall in love with you all over again.

Always yours,

Minho

He placed it on the nightstand, right where you'd see it when you woke.

Then he climbed back into bed, pulled you gently against his chest, and closed his eyes.

Tomorrow would be hard.

But tonight, you were his.

And that was enough.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The clinical trial had seemed like a miracle.

That's what the doctor had called it, anyway. A last-ditch effort. An experimental treatment that had shown promise in early stages. Not a cure, never a cure, but maybe a slowdown. Maybe a few more months of memories. Maybe a little more time.

You'd agreed before the memory loss fully hit. Sat in that same office with the gentle-eyed doctor and the box of tissues and signed your name on page after page of consent forms. Minho had held your hand the whole time. Had watched you scribble your signature with a determination that made his chest ache.

"I want to fight," you'd told him afterward, in the car, with the rain streaming down the windows. "I want to try. For us. For more time."

He'd kissed you. Right there in the parking lot. Long and slow and desperate.

"Then we fight," he'd said. "Together."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The infusions were every two weeks.

You'd go to the hospital, sit in a room with pale blue walls and a television that only played cooking shows, and they'd hook you up to an IV. The medication was clear. Unremarkable. It dripped into your veins for three hours while you watched chefs compete and Minho held your hand and you both pretended this was normal.

For the first three months, it seemed to work.

You still forgot. Every morning was still a reintroduction. But the forgetting seemed... slower. Smaller. You remembered the cats' names more often. You remembered the gray hoodie was yours. Sometimes, just sometimes, you'd look at him and something would flicker in your eyes, recognition, maybe, or something close to it.

Minho let himself hope.

Then the fevers started.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

It was 2 AM when he felt it.

You were burning up. Literally burning. Your skin was hot to the touch, damp with sweat, and you were shaking, violent, uncontrollable shaking that rattled the bed frame.

Minho was awake instantly.

"Hey. Hey, baby. Can you hear me?"

Your eyes were open but unfocused. Glassy. Your lips moved but no sound came out.

He grabbed his phone. Dialed. Pressed the phone to his ear with one hand while the other held your face, tried to ground you, tried to bring you back.

"The clinical trial hotline," he said when someone answered. "My girlfriend. She's in the trial. She has a fever and she's shaking and she's not responding-"

The ambulance came.

Minho rode in the back, holding your hand, watching your chest rise and fall, praying to every god he'd never believed in.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The hospital was too bright. Too loud. Too full of people going about their ordinary lives while yours hung in the balance.

Minho sat in a plastic chair that was bolted to the floor and stared at a wall that was painted a color designed to be calming. It wasn't calming. Nothing was calming.

A doctor came out after what felt like hours. Young. Tired. Sympathetic in that practiced way that meant bad news.

"Mr. Lee?"

Minho stood. His legs almost gave out.

"She's stable," the doctor said quickly. "The fever is responding to treatment. But we need to talk about the clinical trial."

Minho just looked at him. Waiting.

"The reaction she had, it's a known risk. Severe neuroinflammation. Her body is rejecting the treatment." The doctor paused. "We can continue the infusions, but the likelihood of another reaction is high. Each one could be worse than the last. Seizures. Organ stress. Potentially-" Another pause. "Potentially fatal."

The words hung in the air like smoke.

"What happens if we stop?" Minho heard himself ask.

"The memory loss will accelerate. The timeline we discussed initially, it will move faster. Weeks instead of months." The doctor's eyes were gentle. Cruelly gentle. "I'm sorry. I know this isn't what you wanted to hear."

Minho nodded. Swallowed. Nodded again.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course. Room 312. She's asking for you."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

You were pale against the white sheets.

So pale. So small. Tubes and wires connecting you to machines that beeped and hummed and kept you alive.

But your eyes were open. And when you saw him, you smiled.

"Minho."

It was your voice. Your smile. Your eyes looking at him with recognition, real recognition, not the polite confusion of a stranger.

He crossed the room in three steps and was at your side, holding your hand, pressing kisses to your knuckles, crying without making a sound.

"Hey," you whispered. Your voice was rough. "Why are you crying?"

"Because I love you," he said. "Because I was scared. Because you're here and you know my name and I don't know how to handle any of this."

Your fingers tightened on his. Weak, but there.

"I remember," you said softly. "Today. I remember today. The ambulance. The lights. You holding my hand." A pause. "I was so scared. But you were there. You're always there."

"I'll always be there," he promised. "Always."

You looked at him for a long moment. Then your eyes drifted to the window, to the gray sky beyond, to the ordinary world going about its ordinary day.

"What did the doctor say?" you asked quietly.

Minho's heart stopped.

"About what?"

"Don't." You looked back at him. "Don't protect me. I can tell by your face. It's bad. Just tell me."

He wanted to lie. Wanted to tell you everything was fine, that you'd go home tomorrow, that you'd have more time.

But you'd asked him never to lie. Back when you still remembered everything. Back when you'd made him promise.

"The treatment is hurting you," he said. "The fevers, they'll keep happening. Each one could be worse. They said we can stop, but if we stop-"

"The memory loss gets faster." You finished his sentence. Nodded slowly. "How much faster?"

"Weeks. Maybe."

You were quiet for a moment. Processing. Accepting.

Then you squeezed his hand and smiled that small, brave smile that destroyed him every time.

"Then we stop."

"Baby-"

"Minho." You reached up with your free hand, touched his face. So gently. "I don't want to spend what time I have in a hospital. I don't want you to watch me seize and burn and maybe die in a room with pale blue walls. I want to go home. I want to sleep in our bed. I want the cats to sit on my lap. I want to drink your coffee and watch you dance and-" Your voice broke. "And I want to make as many memories as I can before I can't anymore."

He was crying. Both of you were crying.

"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."

You pulled him down. Pressed your forehead to his.

"How long do I have?" you asked. "Before I forget everything? Before I forget you?"

He didn't answer. Couldn't answer.

"I need to know," you said. "I need to know so I can, so I can say goodbye properly. So I can tell you everything I need to tell you."

Minho closed his eyes. Let himself feel the weight of it.

"A month," he breathed. "Maybe two. The doctor said, the doctor said at this stage, with the accelerated timeline-"

"A month." You said it like you were testing the weight of it. "Okay. Okay. One month."

You pulled back. Looked at him with those eyes that held so much. Love. Fear. Grief. Gratitude.

"Then we have one month to live a lifetime," you said. "Can we do that?"

He kissed you. Soft and desperate and full of everything he couldn't say.

"We can do anything," he whispered against your lips. "As long as I'm with you."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

You came home three days later.

The apartment felt different. Sacred, almost. Every corner held a memory you might not have tomorrow. Every object carried weight.

You stood in the living room, looking at the photo album on the coffee table. At the sticky notes on the walls. At the cats weaving between your ankles.

"It's strange," you said quietly. "Knowing I won't remember this. Knowing that right now, this moment, will be gone tomorrow."

Minho came up behind you. Wrapped his arms around your waist. Pressed his cheek to your hair.

"Then let's make it count," he said. "Let's make every second count."

You turned in his arms. Faced him.

"Teach me something," you said.

"What?"

"Teach me something I've never learned. Something new. Something I won't forget because I never knew it before." You smiled. "Give me a memory that's just for today."

So he did.

He taught you a dance move. The one from the music video, the one you'd tried to teach him a lifetime ago. You laughed at your own clumsiness, at his patient corrections, at the way you kept stepping on his feet.

And when you finally got it, finally nailed the sequence, you threw your arms around his neck and kissed him, full of joy and triumph and the fierce beauty of being alive.

"Did you see that?" you laughed. "I did it!"

"I saw," he said, smiling through the ache in his chest. "You were amazing."

You beamed at him. So proud. So present.

And Minho made himself a promise.

He would give you this. Every single day. A new memory. Something just for today. Something the thief couldn't steal because it had never been stolen before.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

That night, you asked him for paper and a pen.

You sat at the kitchen table, the same table where he'd written a hundred sticky notes, and you wrote. For hours. Page after page.

When you finally came to bed, your eyes were red and swollen.

"What did you write?" he asked gently.

"Letters." You crawled into bed beside him, settled against his chest. "Letters to myself. For when I forget. Reminders of who I am. Who you are. What we had." A pause. "What we have."

He held you tighter.

"There's one for every day," you continued. "For as long as I can. When I wake up, I'll read one. And for a few minutes, I'll remember. I'll know."

Minho's throat was too tight to speak.

You lifted your head. Looked at him in the dim light.

"You're in all of them," you whispered. "Every single one. You're the reason I wrote them. You're the reason any of this matters."

He kissed you. Long and slow and full of everything.

"I love you," he said. "I love you so much it's destroying me."

"I know," you whispered back. "I love you too. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you have to go through this."

"Don't be sorry." He pressed his forehead to yours. "Just, just stay with me. As long as you can. Just stay."

"I will," you promised. "I'll stay until I can't."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

At 3 AM, Minho woke to find you gone.

Panic seized him. He threw off the covers, ran to the living room, 

You were there. Sitting on the couch. Staring at the photo album in your lap.

"You okay?" he asked, voice rough with sleep and fear.

You looked up. Your eyes were wet.

"I wanted to remember," you said quietly. "I wanted to look at these and really see them. While I still can."

He sat beside you. Pulled you against his side.

Together, in the dark, you looked at photos of a life you were losing.

The beach. The ice cream. The cats as kittens. Your first anniversary. The time he surprised you with tickets to your favorite band. The time you surprised him with a cake that looked nothing like the picture but tasted perfect anyway.

Page after page of proof that you had existed. That you had been happy.

"This one's my favorite," you whispered, pointing to a photo of the two of you in the kitchen, flour on both your faces, laughing at something the camera didn't capture.

"Why that one?"

"Because we're not posing. We're not trying to look good. We're just, happy. Real happy." You traced the image with your fingertip. "I want to remember this. Even if I forget everything else, I want to remember this."

Minho kissed your temple.

"You will," he lied gently. "You will."

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Two weeks left.

You made a list. Things you wanted to do. Places you wanted to see. Foods you wanted to eat one last time.

Minho made it happen.

The beach where you'd had your first real conversation. The ice cream place with the weird flavors. The park where you'd first said "I love you." The rooftop where you'd watched the stars and talked about the future you thought you'd have.

Every day, a new adventure. Every night, you fell into bed exhausted but smiling.

And every morning, you woke up and read your letter and knew, for a little while, who you were and who he was and what you meant to each other.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

One week left.

You woke up and you knew him.

Not just from the letter. Not just from the photos. You knew him. You looked at him and your eyes lit up with recognition, with love, with everything.

"Minho," you breathed, and it was his name, his name, the way you'd always said it, full of warmth and belonging.

"Yeah," he whispered, tears already forming. "Yeah, it's me."

You pulled him down. Kissed him like you'd never stop.

"I remember," you said against his lips. "I remember everything. Today. Right now. I remember."

You spent the day like you used to. Before the forgetting. You made breakfast together, pancakes, messy and imperfect and perfect. You danced in the living room, wrong and beautiful and so full of joy it hurt. You talked about nothing and everything. You held hands on the couch. You kissed in the kitchen. You laughed until you cried.

And at the end of the day, as the sun set through the window, you looked at him with eyes that held four years of love.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"For what?"

"For staying. For fighting. For loving me even when I couldn't love you back." A tear slipped down your cheek. "For giving me a lifetime in a month."

He cupped your face in his hands. Brushed the tear away with his thumb.

"Thank you for letting me," he said. "Thank you for being the best thing that ever happened to me. Thank you for every single day, even the ones you forgot."

You smiled. That smile. The one that had made him fall in love with you in the first place.

"I'll try to remember tomorrow," you said. "I'll try so hard."

"I know you will." He kissed your forehead. "And if you can't, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

That night, you fell asleep in his arms.

And Minho held you close and prayed to a god he still didn't believe in that tomorrow, just once more, you'd know his name.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho woke before you.

He'd gotten into the habit. Those final minutes of darkness, with you still asleep in his arms, were the only time he wasn't bracing for impact. The only time he could just be with you, without the weight of your empty eyes.

He watched the sunrise paint your face gold.

Committed it to memory. The soft part of your lips. The way your eyelashes fluttered during dreams he'd never know. The small sound you made when you were surfacing from sleep.

Please, he thought. Please. Just one more day. Just let her know me one more time.

You stirred.

Your eyes opened.

And Minho knew immediately.

There was nothing there. Not confusion, not fear, not the polite curiosity of a stranger. Just, nothing. Empty. Like a house where someone had turned off all the lights.

You blinked. Looked at him. Looked at the room. Looked at your own hands like you'd never seen them before.

Then the screaming started.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

It wasn't a scream of fear.

It was a scream of not knowing. Of existing without context, without memory, without any thread connecting you to the world.

You scrambled backward, away from him, falling off the bed, hitting the floor with a thud that should have hurt but you didn't seem to notice. Your back hit the wall and you pressed yourself against it, arms wrapped around your knees, rocking.

"No no no no no-"

Minho was on his knees in front of you, hands up, palms out, trying to be small, trying to be unthreatening.

"Hey," he said, voice shaking. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe. You're in your home. My name is Minho, I'm your-"

You looked at him.

And the look in your eyes stopped his heart.

Not fear. Not confusion. Nothing. Absolute vacancy. Like looking at a person through a window made of ice.

"Who am I?" you whispered.

"You're-"

"WHO AM I?" Louder now. More desperate. Your hands flew to your head, gripping your hair, pulling. "I don't know who I am. I don't know anything. There's nothing. There's nothing in my head. Why is there nothing in my head?"

Minho reached for you.

You flinched like he'd hit you.

"DON'T TOUCH ME."

He froze. Hands still in the air. Tears streaming down his face.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I won't touch you. But please, please let me help you. You're sick. You have a condition. It affects your memory. But you're safe. You're in your home. I'm here to help you."

You stared at him.

And then you started hitting yourself.

Not hard at first. Just slapping your own temples, your own forehead, like you could shake something loose, like you could force your brain to work.

"Come back," you muttered. "Come back come back come back. There has to be something. There has to be something."

Minho lunged forward. Caught your wrists. Held them tight.

You fought him. Actually fought, kicking, thrashing, screaming. Not at him. At the universe. At the emptiness inside your own skull.

"LET ME GO. LET ME GO I NEED TO FIND IT I NEED TO FIND MYSELF-"

"You're right here," he sobbed, holding on, taking the hits because he couldn't let you hurt yourself. "You're right here. You're safe. Please. Please, baby, please-"

You went still.

Looked at him with those empty eyes.

"Baby," you repeated. Like the word meant nothing. Like it was sounds without sense.

Then you started to scream again.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho had to hold you down while he dialed.

One arm around your torso, pinning you gently but firmly to his chest, the other fumbling for his phone on the nightstand. You were still fighting, still thrashing, still making sounds that weren't words anymore, just raw, animal noises of distress.

"911," he gasped when someone answered. "Please. My girlfriend. She has memory loss. She woke up and she doesn't know anything. She's, she's hurting herself. She's terrified. Please. Please hurry."

He gave the address. Dropped the phone. Wrapped both arms around you and held on.

"Shh," he whispered against your hair. "Shh. I've got you. I've got you. You're safe. You're safe."

You didn't stop fighting until the paramedics arrived.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

They sedated you.

Minho watched them do it. Watched the medication flood your system, watched your eyes go from wild and empty to slowly, heavily closed. Watched them strap you to a gurney and wheel you out of the apartment you'd never remember living in.

He rode in the ambulance again.

Held your hand again.

Watched your chest rise and fall again.

But this time, when you opened your eyes, there was nothing there. And he knew, somewhere deep in his bones, that there never would be again.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The same doctor. The same gentle eyes. The same box of tissues on the corner of the desk.

Minho hated her. Hated this room. Hated the universe for putting them here again.

"She's in a state of complete autobiographical memory loss," the doctor said quietly. "Not just recent memories. Everything. Her name. Her age. The concept of self. It's all gone."

Minho stared at a spot on the wall.

"The terror she's experiencing, it's not something she can control. Imagine waking up in a world you don't recognize, in a body you don't recognize, with no context for anything. No language, even, beyond the instinctive. She doesn't know what a hospital is. She doesn't know what help is. She only knows fear."

"Fix it," Minho said. His voice was flat. Dead. "You're doctors. Fix it."

The doctor was quiet for a moment.

"There is one option."

Minho looked at her.

"The clinical trial. The one we stopped. If we restart it, at a higher dosage, there's a chance, a small chance, that some memories could return. Fragments. Impressions. Enough to give her back a sense of self."

"But?"

The doctor met his eyes.

"But the side effects will be worse. The fevers will be worse. The inflammation will be worse. She'll need round-the-clock monitoring. She'll need to stay here, in the hospital, indefinitely. And even then, there's no guarantee. She might never know who she is again. She might never know you."

Minho's hands were shaking.

"And if we don't?"

"Then she'll remain in this state. Permanently. She'll need full-time care. She won't recognize anyone or anything. She'll live in a world of strangers, including herself."

The room was very quiet.

"There's one more thing," the doctor said. "If we restart the trial, she can't go home. The risk of seizures is too high. She'll need to be here, in the neurology wing, for the foreseeable future. You can visit, but-"

"She can't come home."

"No. I'm sorry."

Minho closed his eyes.

And somewhere deep inside him, something broke for good.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

They let him see you before they moved you to the neurology wing.

You were awake. Sedated, but awake. Your eyes were open, staring at the ceiling, and there was nothing in them. No recognition when he entered. No fear, either, thanks to the drugs. Just... absence.

He sat in the chair beside your bed. Took your hand.

You didn't react.

"I have to make a choice," he whispered. "And I don't know what you'd want. I don't know if you'd want to fight, or if you'd want to let go. I don't know anything anymore."

You blinked slowly. Your eyes drifted to his face. No spark. No flicker.

"You're in there somewhere," he said, his voice cracking. "You have to be. You're too bright to just, to just go out. You're too you."

Nothing.

He lifted your hand to his lips. Kissed your knuckles. One by one.

"I'm going to say yes," he whispered. "To the trial. Because if there's even a chance, even a tiny chance, that you could come back, even for a moment, even just to know your own name... I have to take it. I have to."

You looked at him. Empty. Peaceful. Gone.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you from this."

A tear slid down his cheek. Landed on your hand.

You didn't notice.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

He signed the papers in the doctor's office.

Page after page. Consent forms. Waivers. Acknowledgement of risks. Acknowledgement that you might die. Acknowledgement that you might never come back. Acknowledgement that even if you did, you might not know him.

He signed them all.

Then he went back to your room, your room, in the neurology wing, with the pale blue walls and the television that only played cooking shows, and sat beside you until visiting hours ended.

A nurse came. Gentle. Kind. "You should go home. Get some rest. She'll be here tomorrow."

Minho looked at you. Still staring at the ceiling. Still empty.

"Will she know me?" he asked. "When she wakes up?"

The nurse's silence was answer enough.

He stood. Leaned down. Pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he whispered. "I'll always come back. I promised you that, remember? Even if you don't."

You didn't respond.

He walked out of the room.

Walked down the hallway.

Walked out of the hospital and into the night and drove home to an apartment that would never feel like home again.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The cats met him at the door.

Dori. Soonie. Doongie. Winding around his ankles, meowing for food, for attention, for the person who wasn't there.

Minho stood in the entryway and looked at the life they'd built.

Your shoes by the door. Your hoodie on the back of the chair. The photo album on the coffee table. The sticky notes on the walls. The half-empty cup of coffee you'd never finish.

He walked to the bedroom.

Your side of the bed was still rumpled. The sheets still held your shape. The pillow still smelled like you.

He lay down on your side. Buried his face in your pillow. Breathed in the last traces of you.

And for the first time since this started, really started, Minho let himself break completely.

He sobbed until he couldn't breathe. Sobbed until his throat was raw. Sobbed until there was nothing left, just empty heaves and the sound of his own heart shattering into pieces too small to ever put back together.

The cats jumped on the bed. Curled up around him. Dori licked the tears from his face.

And Minho realized, with a clarity that cut like glass:

You were gone.

Not dead. But gone.

The person he loved, the one with the laugh that filled rooms, the one who stole blankets and snored and made him coffee and looked at him like he was something precious, that person was somewhere inside a body that didn't know her own name.

And she might never come back.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The next morning, he went back to the hospital.

You were awake. Sitting up in bed. Your eyes were clearer today, less sedated, but still empty. Still vacant.

A nurse was helping you eat breakfast. You opened your mouth mechanically when the spoon approached. Chewed. Swallowed. No expression.

Minho stood in the doorway.

The nurse noticed him. Smiled gently. "She's had her first infusion. No reaction yet. That's good."

He nodded. Walked to your bedside.

"Hi," he said softly.

You looked at him. Nothing.

"I'm Minho," he said. His voice only cracked a little. "I'm the person who loves you most in the world. I know you don't know me. That's okay. I'm going to keep coming anyway. Every day. I'm going to keep telling you who I am. I'm going to keep hoping."

You stared at him.

Then, slowly, your hand moved.

Reached out.

Touched his face.

Minho's breath caught.

Your fingers traced his cheek. His jaw. His lips. Like you were trying to read him through touch. Like your body was searching for something your mind had lost.

"No," you whispered.

His heart stopped.

"No what?"

You frowned. Concentration. Effort. Like you were trying to climb out of a deep, dark hole.

"No... don't..." You shook your head slightly. "Don't... cry."

Minho realized there were tears on his face. He hadn't noticed them falling.

"You don't know me," he whispered. "How do you know I was crying?"

You looked at him. Still empty. Still lost.

But your hand stayed on his face.

And for one moment, one tiny, impossible moment, he thought he saw something flicker in your eyes.

Then it was gone.

You pulled your hand back. Looked away. Stared at the wall.

Minho sat beside you for the rest of visiting hours. Holding your hand. Talking to you. Telling you stories about a life you'd never remember.

You didn't respond again.

But you didn't pull your hand away either.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

He came every day. Every single day.

Sometimes you were awake. Sometimes you were asleep. Sometimes you were in the middle of a fever, shaking and burning and surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed.

He was there for all of it.

He read you letters, the ones you'd written, the ones you'd never read yourself. He showed you photos from the album, even though your eyes slid off them like water. He told you about the cats, about Dori's latest mischief, about Soonie's favorite sleeping spot.

And every day, before he left, he kissed your forehead and said the same thing:

"I'll be back tomorrow. I'll always come back. I love you."

You never responded.

But sometimes, when he said it, your fingers would twitch. Just slightly. Just enough.

And Minho held onto that like a drowning man holds onto air.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Three weeks into your hospitalization, Minho found a letter he hadn't seen before.

It was tucked into the back of the photo album. Your handwriting on the envelope. His name. He opened it with shaking hands.

Minho,

If you're reading this, I'm probably gone. Not dead, I made the nurse promise she'd give you this if I ever got to the point where I couldn't communicate anymore. So if you're reading this, I'm in that place. The empty place. And you're still here, being you, being the most stubbornly loving person I've ever known.

I need you to know something.

I'm not scared.

I know that sounds crazy. I should be terrified. But I'm not, because I know you're with me. Even if I don't know it in the moment, even if my eyes are empty and my hands don't hold yours back, some part of me knows. Some part of me feels you. And that part is peaceful.

You gave me that. You gave me a love so big it exists even when I don't.

I need you to promise me something. You're going to want to stay in that apartment forever, surrounded by my things, trapped in a life that's half-empty. Don't. Promise me you'll live. Promise me you'll laugh again. Promise me you'll let yourself be happy, even if it's without me.

I know that seems impossible right now. But I need you to try. For me. For the person who loved you more than anything.

I don't know if there's an afterlife. I don't know if I'll be watching. But if I am, I'll be cheering for you. I'll be so proud of you. I'll be so grateful for every single second you gave me.

Thank you for staying. Thank you for fighting. Thank you for loving me even when I couldn't love you back.

You were my whole heart. You will always be my whole heart.

Forever yours,

(Your name)

P.S. ,  Take care of the cats. They miss me. Tell them I love them.

Minho read the letter three times.

Then he folded it carefully, placed it in his wallet, and went to the hospital.

You were having a good day. No fever. Eyes open. You even looked at him when he walked in.

"Hi," he said, sitting beside you. "I brought a letter. From you. From before. Do you want to hear it?"

You stared at him. Empty.

He read it anyway.

And when he finished, when his voice was hoarse and his eyes were wet, you reached out and touched his face again.

"Don't cry," you whispered.

It was the only thing you ever said.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Six months later, Minho made a decision.

He sold the apartment. Packed up your things carefully, reverently. Kept the gray hoodie for himself. Donated the rest to a women's shelter, because you would have wanted that.

He found a smaller place. Closer to the hospital. Easier for visiting.

He took the cats.

And every single day, he went to see you.

You never knew him again. Not really. There were moments, flickers, glimpses, tiny windows where your eyes would focus and your hand would reach for his. But they never lasted. By the next visit, you were empty again.

But Minho kept coming.

He kept talking. Kept reading. Kept holding your hand.

Because somewhere, deep inside the empty, he knew you were there. The real you. The one who laughed with her whole body and stole blankets and made him coffee and looked at him like he was the sun.

She was in there.

And he would wait.

As long as it took.

Forever, if that's what it took.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

One year later.

Minho sat beside your bed, holding your hand, telling you about Dori's latest adventure. The cat had gotten stuck in a paper bag and stumbled around the apartment for an hour before Minho rescued him. It had been hilarious. You would have laughed.

He was mid-sentence when your fingers tightened on his.

He stopped. Looked at you.

Your eyes were open. Clear. Focused.

"Minho," you whispered.

Not a question. Not a stranger's polite confusion. His name. His name.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Yeah, it's me."

You smiled. That smile. The one that had made him fall in love with you in the first place.

"I remember," you said softly. "I remember everything."

Minho's world stopped.

"You-"

"For a minute. Maybe less. But I remember." You lifted your free hand, touched his face. "I remember loving you. I remember being loved by you. I remember everything that matters."

Tears were streaming down his face. He didn't care.

"I've been waiting," he choked out. "I've been waiting so long."

"I know." Your thumb traced his cheek. "I know. I felt you. Every day. Even when I couldn't respond. I felt you here." You pressed your hand to your chest. "Right here."

He leaned down. Pressed his forehead to yours.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." Your voice was getting weaker. Your eyes were fluttering. "I'll try to come back. I'll try to remember again."

"Okay," he said. "Okay. I'll be here. I'll always be here."

You smiled one more time.

Then your eyes closed, and you were gone again.

Minho sat beside you, holding your hand, crying without making a sound.

And he waited.

Because that's what you do when you love someone.

You wait.

Forever, if that's what it takes.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

It was 3:47 AM.

Minho knew this because the clock on his nightstand glowed green and accusatory, and he'd been staring at it for the better part of an hour. Sleep wouldn't come. It happened sometimes, his brain refusing to shut off, replaying the day's visit, replaying your empty eyes, replaying the one moment of clarity you'd given him a week ago.

I remember loving you.

He held onto those words like a lifeline.

His phone buzzed.

He grabbed it before the sound could fully register, heart already pounding, because phones don't ring at 3:47 AM for good news.

The screen said: HOSPITAL.

He answered. Didn't speak. Couldn't.

"Mr. Lee?"

"Yes."

"It's Dr. Park. From the neurology wing." A pause. The kind of pause that stretches into eternity. "I'm so sorry to call at this hour. There's been an incident."

Minho was already standing. Already pulling on clothes. Already moving toward the door.

"What happened?"

"She had a seizure. A severe one. The team responded immediately, but-" Another pause. Longer this time. "It was too aggressive. We couldn't stop it. Her heart-"

The words stopped.

Minho stopped too. Frozen in the middle of his living room, one shoe on, one shoe off, the cats watching him with wide eyes.

"Mr. Lee? Are you there?"

"She's gone." His own voice. He barely recognized it.

"I'm so sorry. We did everything we could. She wasn't in pain. I need you to know that. She wasn't in pain."

Minho's legs gave out.

He sank to the floor, phone still pressed to his ear, staring at nothing.

"She was alone," he whispered. "She was alone and she didn't know who she was and she died alone."

"There was a nurse with her. She wasn't alone. And Mr. Lee-" The doctor's voice cracked, just slightly. Professionalism giving way to something human. "In her final moments, she said a name. Just once. Before the seizure took her."

Minho's heart stopped.

"What name?"

"Yours. She said 'Minho.' Clear as anything. And then she was gone."

The sob that tore out of him was animal. Primal. It came from somewhere so deep he didn't know it existed.

She remembered. At the end. She remembered.

"Thank you," he gasped. "Thank you for telling me."

"Someone will be in touch about, about arrangements. Take your time. There's no rush. And Mr. Lee?"

"Yes?"

"She was lucky to have you. I've never seen anyone fight as hard for someone as you fought for her."

The line went dead.

Minho sat on his living room floor at 3:47 AM, one shoe on, one shoe off, and held the phone in his hands.

The cats came to him. Dori first, then Soonie, then Doongie. They curled around him, pressed their warmth into his shaking body.

And Minho realized, with a clarity that cut like glass:

You were really gone.

Not empty. Not waiting. Not somewhere inside a body that didn't know itself.

Gone.

The word didn't make sense. Couldn't make sense. You were too bright, too alive, too much to just be gone.

But the phone call was real. The silence was real. The empty apartment was real.

You were gone.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

He doesn't remember driving to the hospital.

One moment he was on the floor with the cats. The next, he was in the parking lot, engine off, hands still gripping the wheel like he'd been holding it for hours.

The sun was rising. Pale pink and orange over the buildings. Beautiful. The kind of sunrise you would have dragged him outside to see.

He sat in the car and watched it and thought about how the world kept spinning even when his had stopped.

A nurse met him at the entrance. The kind one. The one who always smiled at him when he came for visits.

Her eyes were red.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "She's still in her room. They haven't, they haven't moved her yet. I thought you might want-"

"Thank you."

His voice was automatic. His legs were automatic. Everything was automatic except the gaping hole where his heart used to be.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The door was partially open.

He stood outside it for a long time. Staring at the crack of light. Listening to the machines that weren't beeping anymore.

She's not in there, he told himself. She's not in that room. She's somewhere else. She's free.

But his hand still shook when he pushed the door open.

You were in the bed.

Still. So still. Your eyes were closed, your face peaceful, your hands folded over your chest like you were sleeping.

But you weren't sleeping.

He knew because your chest wasn't moving. Because the machines were dark. Because the room had the terrible quiet of finality.

He walked to your bedside.

Sat in the chair he'd sat in a thousand times.

Took your hand.

It was cold.

Minho lifted it to his lips. Kissed your knuckles. One by one. Just like he'd done a million times before.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'm here. I'm always here. Remember?"

Nothing.

Of course nothing.

But he kept talking anyway.

"The cats miss you. Dori tried to steal my food this morning. Soonie slept on your pillow again. They know something's wrong. They keep looking at the door like you're going to walk through it."

He laughed. A broken, wrecked sound.

"I keep doing that too. Looking at doors. Expecting you."

He pressed your hand to his cheek. Held it there.

"The nurse said you said my name. At the end. Thank you for that. Thank you for remembering. Even for a second."

Tears dripped onto your cold fingers.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted. "I don't know how to be in a world without you. I don't know how to wake up tomorrow and not come here. I don't know how to exist when half of me is gone."

He leaned forward. Pressed his forehead to your still shoulder.

"You were supposed to forget me. Not leave me. You were supposed to be here, even if you didn't know me. I could handle that. I could handle anything as long as you were breathing."

A sob wracked his body.

"But you're not breathing. And I don't know how to do this. I don't know how to say goodbye."

He stayed like that for a long time. Holding your hand. Crying into your shoulder. Saying everything and nothing.

Eventually, a gentle hand touched his back.

The kind nurse. Tears streaming down her face.

"It's time," she whispered. "They need to, they need to take her now."

Minho nodded. Sat up. Looked at your face one last time.

He leaned down. Kissed your forehead. The same spot he'd kissed a thousand mornings.

"I love you," he said. "I loved you from the moment I met you. I'll love you until the moment I die. And after that, if there's anything after that, I'll find you. I'll always find you."

He stood.

Let go of your hand.

Walked to the door.

Turned back one last time.

"Wait for me," he whispered. "Wherever you are. Wait for me."

Then he walked out of the room, and you were gone.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

The funeral was small.

Your family. His family. A few close friends who had watched this whole tragedy unfold from the sidelines, helpless.

Minho stood at the front and didn't cry.

He'd done all his crying in that hospital room. Now there was just emptiness. Just the mechanical motions of existing.

They played your favorite song. The one you used to dance to in the living room. Minho stood perfectly still and listened and thought about the way you'd grab his hands and pull him into your ridiculous choreography, laughing, always laughing.

Afterward, people touched his arm. Said words he didn't hear. Cried tears he couldn't join.

He nodded. Thanked them. Waited for it to be over.

When everyone was gone, he stood alone by the grave. Looked at the headstone with your name on it. Your real name. The one he'd whispered a million times.

"I brought something," he said quietly.

He pulled the gray hoodie from his bag. Your hoodie. The one you'd stolen years ago and never given back.

He knelt. Folded it carefully. Laid it on the fresh earth.

"So you're not cold," he whispered. "Wherever you are."

The wind picked up. Rustled the leaves. Carried something that might have been a whisper or might have been his imagination.

He stood. Looked at the sky. Thought about all the mornings he'd wake up without you.

"I'll be okay," he said. "Eventually. I'll be okay because you'd want me to be. I'll laugh again. I'll dance again. I'll live again."

A pause.

"But I'll never stop loving you. Not for one second. Not ever."

He turned and walked away.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

That night, Minho sat on his couch with three cats on his lap.

Dori. Soonie. Doongie.

They purred. They kneaded. They looked at him with eyes that held their own kind of grief.

"She loved you," he told them. "So much. She found you in the rain, Dori. She carried you home in her hoodie pocket. You were so small you fit in one hand."

Dori blinked slowly.

"She used to talk to you guys like you understood every word. Maybe you did. She seemed to think so."

Soonie meowed. Soft. Questioning.

"Yeah," Minho whispered. "She's not coming back. I'm sorry. She's not coming back."

The cats curled closer. Pressed their warmth into him.

And for the first time since the phone call, Minho cried.

Not the violent sobs of that first morning. Not the wrecked grief of the hospital room. Just tears. Silent, endless tears, falling onto the fur of the creatures you'd loved.

He cried for you. For him. For the life you should have had.

And when the tears finally stopped, he sat in the quiet and felt something he hadn't felt in months.

Peace.

Not happiness. Not okay-ness. But peace. The knowledge that you weren't suffering anymore. That you weren't scared or empty or lost.

You were free.

And someday, a long time from now, he would be too.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

Minho wrote it on the anniversary of your death.

He sat at the kitchen table, the same table where you'd written your letters to yourself, and pulled out a piece of paper and a pen that was almost out of ink.

Dear y/n,

I don't know where you are. I don't know if you can hear this. But I need to talk to you anyway.

It's been a year. A whole year without you. I don't know how that's possible. It feels like yesterday and it feels like forever.

The cats are good. Dori still steals food. Soonie still sleeps on your pillow. Doongie still follows me from room to room like he's making sure I'm okay. I think they remember you. I think they're waiting too.

I moved. Just last month. A new place. Smaller. Closer to the park where we used to walk. I brought your hoodie. The gray one. It's in a drawer next to my bed. I don't wear it, I'm scared of wearing it out, but sometimes I take it out and hold it and pretend you're still here.

I laughed yesterday. Really laughed. Jisung told a stupid joke and I laughed before I could stop myself. It felt strange. Like betraying you. But then I remembered what you wrote in your letter-"Promise me you'll laugh again", and I think maybe you were cheering somewhere.

I'm not okay. I don't know if I'll ever be okay. But I'm here. I'm living. I'm trying.

Because that's what you asked me to do.

I love you. I'll always love you. Every single day for the rest of my life, I'll love you.

Wait for me.

Yours always,

Minho

He folded the letter. Put it in an envelope. Wrote your name on the front.

Then he went to the cemetery and buried it in the earth beside you.

/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <マ ₊˚⊹♡/ᐠ > ˕ <

On a quiet Tuesday, many years later, an old man sat in a chair by a window.

His hair was gray now. His body was tired. But his eyes were still sharp, still bright, still full of a love that had never faded.

Three cats, descendants of the originals, slept at his feet.

In his lap was a photo album. Worn. Pages yellowed. Held together by love and tape.

He turned the pages slowly. Smiling at each one.

The beach. The ice cream. The kitchen covered in flour. The cats as kittens. A thousand small moments that added up to a lifetime.

He stopped at the last page.

A photo of you. In the gray hoodie. Laughing at something off-camera. Beautiful. Alive. His.

"Hey," he whispered. "I'm getting close now. I can feel it."

The cats slept on.

"I hope you're still waiting. I hope there's something after this. I hope I get to see you again."

He traced your face with a trembling finger.

"If there is-" His voice cracked, old and soft. "If there is, I'm going to run to you. I'm going to hold you and never let go. And if there isn't, if this is all there is, then thank you. Thank you for this. Thank you for everything."

He closed the album. Set it gently on the table beside him.

Closed his eyes.

And smiled.

Because somewhere, in the space between heartbeats, he heard it.

Your laugh.

Waiting for him.

[starlostjisung]

not so silent night

pairing: lee know x reader

genre: smut; established relationship

wc: 977

warnings: unprotected sex

summary: it’s freezing, so you and minho decide to heat things up in the most distracting way possible

day 8 of The 25 Days of Stay

a/n: i have no excuse for this fic so… enjoy it my loves 🙂‍↔️

the cold seeps through the bedroom, turning it into an icy cave despite the thick blankets piled on the bed. you move closer to minho, your bodies pressed together under the covers, but the cold still nips at your skin. his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you tighter against his chest, and you feel the steady thump of his heart through his t-shirt. 

“it’s freezing in here”, you say, your teeth chattering slightly as you nuzzle into his neck, seeking any warmth you can find.

he chuckles softly, the vibration rumbling through you. 

“it is, but i think… i can help you with that”, he says, tilting your chin up with his fingers. 

his lips meet yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, meant to chase away the frost. at first, it’s tender, soft presses and light brushes of his tongue, but the heat builds quickly. you sigh into his mouth, your hand sliding up his side, bunching the fabric of his t-shirt. the kiss deepens, hungry now, and you shift closer, your legs tangling with his.

one thing leads to another, as it always does with him. his hands roam under your t-shirt, his palms warm and strong against your bare back, sending shivers that have nothing to do with the cold. you tug at his t-shirt, pulling it over his head, and he helps you, tossing it aside. 

your own clothes follow, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your pants and underwear and sliding them down your hips while you kick them off. soon, you’re both naked, your skin flushing hot where you touch, the chill now forgotten because there’s only desire for each other.

minho moves you onto your back, his body settling between your thighs, his cock hard and pressing against your entrance. you gasp as he enters you, slow at first, filling you inch by inch until he’s buried deep. 

“god, y/n, you’re so tight”, he groans, his voice low and husky, his forehead resting against yours. 

you wrap your legs around him, your heels digging into his lower back, urging him to move. he starts thrusting, steady and deep, the bed creaking under you. your moans fill the room, mixing with his grunts, growing louder with each snap of his hips, not caring about how loud you both are. 

the headboard bumps the wall occasionally, a rhythmic thud that echoes your building pleasure. you arch your back, your breasts brushing his chest, and he takes the hint quickly, lowering his mouth to your neck. his lips trail hot kisses along the column of your throat, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, then his teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper.

“m-minho… i-it feels amazing”, you moan his name, your fingers threading through his hair, holding him there. 

he moves lower, capturing a nipple between his lips, sucking firmly while his tongue swirls around the sensitive bud. pleasure shoots straight to your core, making you clench around his cock. you buck against him, the friction sparking fireworks inside your bodies. 

he raises his head and you move yours, your lips finding his jaw now. you kiss along the line of his jaw, nipping lightly, then down to his neck, sucking a mark into the skin where his pulse races. he growls loudly at that, his thrusts picking up speed, the bed slamming harder against the wall now. sweat slicks your bodies, making every slide and grind slicker, hotter.

“fuck, y/n, you’re making me crazy”, he says, one hand gripping your hip to angle deeper, hitting that spot that knocks the air out of your lungs. 

your nails rake down his back, leaving red trails, and you feel him twitch inside you - he is close, so damn close you’re sure it must hurt him.

his free hand slips between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, already swollen and throbbing. he rubs his fingers in tight circles, the pressure perfect, and that’s what breaks you completely. the coil in your stomach snaps and your orgasm crashes over you like a wave. 

“minho- fuck, yes!”, you moan loudly, your walls clenching around him, pulling him under with you. 

his thrusts grow faster, his fingers now relentless on your clit. 

“fuck, you’re gripping me so hard, i-i can’t-”, he says, his voice breaking, and then he’s spilling inside you, hot pulses filling you as he groans your name.

you ride your climaxes together, your bodies trembling, your breaths ragged. once they end, he slows his movements, his fingers moving away from your clit, but he stays buried deep inside you, collapsing half on top of you. 

“you good?”, he asks softly, brushing your damp hair carefully from your face, his eyes searching yours with that caring glint.

“yeah, i’m good”, you whisper, smiling lazily, your hand moving to cup his cheek. 

he leans in to kiss you softly, and before it deepens, a voice pipes up from the wall. 

“hey, superstars, santa just called. he said you’re both going straight to the naughty list for that performance” 

it’s han, sounding equal parts annoyed and entertained. you had been so lost in each other and your pleasure that you had completely forgotten about him and how he could have heard you from his room. well, now you know he had definitely heard you. 

you both freeze for a second, then start laughing, the sound bubbling up as minho’s lips brush yours again. you kiss through the giggles, light and playful, while you mumble a quick “sorry” between laughs and kisses. 

“hey, minho…”, you say between presses of your mouths, your fingers tracing his jaw, “you know, i’m still a bit cold… you think we could use more of that body heat?”

he grins against your lips, his eyes darkening as you feel him getting hard inside you again. 

“oh absolutely”

event masterlist | the library

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