SYNOPSIS ⋮ heaven is nothing compared to how you taste ❤︎
PAIRING ⋮ vampire!ki x fem!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! +18 smut. blood play. college!au (barely relevant) graphic descriptions of wounds/blood sucking (he’s a fucking vampire like… pls) old fic of mine so the writing may be Terrible im sorry lol edited it a lil tho marking degradation corpses/dead bodies mentioned piv unprotected sex semi-public sex established relationship religious concepts fingering lmk if i missed any!! DON’T LIKE? DONT READ.
AN ⋮ okay originally i wrote this for another fandom but i’ve been itching to repost it for enha considering they fit the concept sm better… i’m sorry i HAD to scratch it and NOBODY will give me shit for it alright #STFU anyway first dddne fic Shibal idk how to feel. lmk ur thoughts! i might dabble in it a bit more haha..
PLAYING ♫ ⋮ spit — show me the body, princess nokia
RIKI’S BEEN HOLDING HIMSELF BACK.
he remembers the day he met you—nerves aflame, senses overwhelmed. his vision was blurred at the edges, and his nose filled with a scent so intoxicating it made his throat burn.
it wasn't perfume, strangely enough. it wasn't annoyingly artificial and heavy, nor did it pierce his senses and make his eyes water like most scents.
it smelled sweet. a faint kind of sweet that he couldn't fucking take.
“what the fuck?”
his head was spinning, beginning to wonder just how he's missed it before.
the teacher’s voice barely cuts through the dull hum of the lecture theatre—the scratch of chalk against the far, distant board, the soft shuffle of pages, the heavy air of disinterest. half the class is asleep, on their laptops, or unfocused. nishimura riki’s no different—except for the fact that his head hangs low not from boredom, but from something else entirely.
a bead of cold sweat slides down his temple, his jaw strung tight; like he’s just caught the scent of a five-course meal served fresh.
it doesn't take long for him to leave the room.
his footsteps are uneven and unsteady, breath coming out in shallow bursts as the scent wraps around him, seeps into his lungs, takes him apart piece by piece. it’s maddening—sweet, warm, alive like it’s calling his name—it pulls him forward like a leash.
“where. . . where the fuck is it?”
riki doesn’t even know where he’s going anymore, only that he has to find the source. it’s instinct, pure and raw.
he’s lucky the halls are empty, immensely fortunate no one’s around to see the cracks in his composure, the way he’s unravelling like a wild animal.
it’s human.
he'd never smelled anything like this. he thinks he'd have gone crazy if he had to—whoever it belonged to, he knew he wouldn’t have stopped at a single bite.
no, he’d have sunk his fangs deep into their neck, drawn out every last drop until the body went still and cold, until the hunger inside him was quiet.
as if it ever could be.
when his palms slam against the heavy, paint peeled doors, the echo rings down the empty hall—followed by the rush of cold air that hits his face.
riki stumbles outside, chest heaving, that scent still tugging him forward. the path ahead stretches toward the open field and basketball courts—familiar, quiet, sun-warmed and filled with laughter.
to his right sits the old storage room, the one crammed with dusty basketballs and forgotten PE gear, its door cracked open just slightly—where the smell, that maddening, mouthwatering scent, is strongest.
riki licks his lips, eyes bloodshot while sweat sticks to his skin; he knows, logically, he cannot eat here.
his lack of planning is clear when he runs forward, anyway. riki’s slender fingers pull the old door towards him, and he thinks if he applied any more force that it would've come right off it's hinges.
a girl.
you were doing what no one else bothered to: keeping equipment after practice.
your arms ached, breath coming out in uneven pants as you dragged the heavy plastic boxes of badminton rackets into the corner of the dim storage room. you didn’t notice the door creak open behind you, didn’t feel the eyes burning holes into your back.
your scent—your breath, your sweat, the faint trace of perfume clinging to your skin—hit him all at once. it was intoxicating, suffocating, too much for him to take in at any single moment.
riki’s hand flew to his nose and mouth, desperate to contain the hunger clawing its way up his throat: and when you turned around to look at him, he could only swallow thickly.
you were beautiful.
not in the way the most appetising meals usually were, but in that sickening, gut-twisting way that made him want to drop to his knees and beg whatever cruel god cursed him with this hunger.
you looked too pure, too golden, too gentle to devour—like touching you would defile something holy—as if any breath he takes wasn’t already sinning.
in his centuries of existence, nishimura riki had never felt such a visceral need course through his veins; it only shows in the way he doesn't know what to do, eyes staying locked on yours as his cold body stills.
"oh," you smile at riki, your feet shoving the last box back into place. you sigh, dusting your hands on your sweat-stained shirt. your pretty lips are all he's thinking about—he thinks he'll have dreams about this, about how good you'd taste while you writhe underneath him and beg to be let go. "uh . . . do you need something? i was just packing up, sorry—"
you look at him with concern when he just shakes his head, hand still clasped over his mouth and nose like he'd just smelled something foul. a little rude, but you can’t blame him for acting such a way after an hour under the sun.
“do i smell that bad?” you giggle, swiping the back of your hand across your forehead—a simple, innocent gesture that makes his throat tighten. his eyes flick to the drops of sweat that trickle to the floor, glazing over the way your jersey clings to your torso.
his answer comes muffled. “no.”
he bites the inside of his cheek, sharp eyes following every bead of sweat that rolls down your skin, glinting in the light, glistening like something meant to be tasted.
nishimura riki is going mad.
he uses all his force to tear his hand away from his face, and you raise an eyebrow at how he's panting oddly hard. like he'd just ran a marathon.
he’s speaking through uneven breaths. you wonder if he needs to sit down, drink some water, because he looked like he was about to have a heat stroke—but in all honesty, all nishimura riki needs, right now, is you.
"do you . . . need some water? i could get you some from the vending machine.”
he looks at you like this—eyes wide, cheeks flushed and hot from running laps, worry softening every feature—and he almost forgets what he is.
“y-yeah, sorry. thought i left my bottle here.”
you’re concerned for a monster, and that alone twists something in his chest. you, with your gentle voice and unguarded heart, were far too kind for someone like him.
the corners of your lips turn upward. “you can drink mine, if you don’t mind.”
too good. too human.
all it does is make you more irresistible.
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NISHIMURA RIKI FINDS YOUR FIRST MEETING KIND of ridiculous to recall, because his situation now is even crazier.
a few months down the line and riki found himself harbouring feelings for a fucking human. his peers whispered, sneered, and park sunghoon was simply the worst of them all—leaning back with that annoyingly smug look on his face that didn’t seem to show any real concern, sharp fangs flashing as he spoke: “you’re not gonna last a month with her.”
maybe riki did it out of spite. maybe it was pride. he likes to think that it’s mostly because he’d fallen hard—far harder than he ever thought possible—for someone as gentle as you.
someone who’d look at him without judgment: without that big wooden hammer that everyone holds against him when they look his direction, without that moral weighing scale that determines his every action.
someone he trusted so much that, eventually, he told you what he really was: albeit under unfavourable circumstances which painted him in the most horrible, monstrous light.
still, you found the good in nishimura riki. even when his mouth was full of blood, the scent of metal filling your nose and the sight of his bloody teeth and dark eyes making your stomach churn in anxiety.
it’s dark. cold. wet with the smell of cigarettes mixed with rain. the alleyway is tight and puddles of muddy water lay beneath your converse, light barely outlining your lover’s figure hunched over a stiff corpse.
your sweet voice echoes and bounces off the brick walls, dampened only by the soft trickle of rain down on the ground. “ki? is that you?”
after you take a cautious step forward, the sound of your soles against concrete makes his head snap toward you. riki’s head snaps up, frozen—a deer caught in headlights. eyes wide, feral, hands fumbling to wipe the blood from his mouth like a child caught eating cookies in the middle of the night.
“y/n—“
and the painful truth, that even he didn’t want to face, was that he was getting hungry—running out of bodies to feast on, running out of time, running out of everything before his restraint finally snapped.
it’s only natural that eventually, he started fearing the worst: that he might resort to you.
so what does riki do?
he accepts the distance. widens it, even. he tells himself it’s mercy—that this is the better option. that stepping back is an act of kindness he would never have extended to you if you had been anyone else.
months passed like slow torture—long, airless months of denying himself your warm love, of stepping back each time you reach for him, of shutting down every fragile attempt you make to close the distance between you.
riki is not afraid of you.
he’s afraid of himself.
sometimes he lies awake and wonders how he ever learned to breathe you in without unraveling, because he still remembers that afternoon in the old storage room—the dust in the air, the heat under his skin, the exact moment his restraint wound tight and he felt himself slipping, terrifyingly, willingly, out of control.
the best solution, of course, was to run. still, that didn't work very well—he always thought you were quite talented at locating him, much more than he was with you.
"you. . . you—“ you sobbed, fists balling his shirt in your palms, tears streaming down your face as if it wouldn't stop anytime soon. "was i supposed to find out like this?”
riki swallowed hard, throat dry with the taste of iron still lingering. the dim glow of the streetlight barely cut through the night, but it was enough—enough for him to see everything.
the way your eyes refused to meet his. the tremor of your lips. the way your shoulders shook with every fractured breath. it hit him like a blade to the gut—the silence that stretched between you, the lies he’d once wrapped in good intentions now unraveling at his feet. and still, staring at you like this, he felt it deep in his chest: it was never just a lie. he’d sinned, again and again, until this moment arrived like judgment itself.
"i didn't want to hurt you."
hearing that broke you even more.
you grit your teeth. "so this is why you’ve been so fucking distant?"
that was true, unfortunately so, because if it were any other girl—this would’ve never been an issue.
riki would have been satiated a long time ago, belly warm and full of blood that took almost no effort to get.
he didn’t know why he’d let himself fall for you, love you, only to deny himself the one thing he craved most.
he didn’t know why he subjected himself to this agony—and now, you’re looped into it, too.
he didn’t know why he’d thrown himself into this slow-burning torture, why he’d chosen to know you first, to touch your life before ever touching your skin.
the cold air brushes against your skin and you’re shivering; nishimura riki momentarily wonders how warm your blood must taste in comparison to the icy night air that fills his lungs—how it might soothe that constant burn crawling up his throat, how it might feel to finally taste something that wasn’t so lifeless, so stale.
it’s a cruel thought, and he hates himself for it, but he can’t stop the way his fangs ache or how his eyes fixate on the soft pulse at the base of your neck.
riki had begun to pull away, slowly—getting up from the middle of the night from your bed, slipping his clothes on and disappearing swiftly into the night—he settles for scraps, blood from bodies tossed away by the rest of the group.
he still remembers the look of pity on heeseung’s face the first night he did that.
you never knew about any of it. riki would always brush your concerns off, stating that he had other important stuff to deal with; the specifics never clarified.
the lie couldn't hold up once you found him that night. it was too late. in the back alleyway of some random internet café, nishimura riki held a (now) cold neck to his mouth, slurping and sucking every last drop of blood.
"then take it from me," you breathe, beginning to undo the first two buttons of your blouse. "please."
if riki were human, if any heart of his were still living, it’d been pounding, rattling against his old ribs.
riki’s breath leaves him in a shaky exhale. the laugh that escapes is quiet, humourless—more broken than bitter.
“do you even know what you’re fucking asking for?” he mutters, voice rough, almost pleading for you to understand just how dangerous he was. that it wasn’t going to be a small nibble, a little trickle of blood; he knows himself too well for that. “y/n. don’t say shit you don’t mean.”
you’d never understand.
he’d sink his fangs so deep, mouth open wide, jaw locked tight as he drives them into the crook of your neck until the warmth fills his throat and the world blurs into red.
until he’s had his fill. until you’ll fall limp. until you can’t even say his name anymore.
and what would he do then? cry? mourn you like he was ever capable of doing so?
“of course you don’t. never thinking straight—shit, you think you’re so fucking smart.”
his hand twitches at his side, fingers curling into a trembling fist as he forces himself not to reach for you. the other brushes against the rough wall, nails digging into brick to ground himself, to keep the hunger at bay.
you don’t answer him. the sound of fabric rustling as you pull your sleeve down, your chest falling and rising at a worrying rate. riki hears it all booming in his ears, and he licks his upper canines at the sounds.
each movement is deliberate, like a dare, as you unbutton your blouse. the air between you tightens, heavy with anxiety and something deeper that neither of you can name.
“i’ll kill you.”
you bite the inside of your cheek. riki watches you, chest tight, as if waiting for you to turn and walk away—in which case he tells himself he’d move neighbourhoods and erase the memory. “i’ll really fucking kill you, y/n.”
but you don’t step back.
instead, you’re closing the distance in small, steady steps, the copper scent of iron thick in the air and prickling at the back of your throat. when you take his blood-slicked hand and press it to your neck, riki’s knees nearly give out; the world narrows to the tremor of your pulse beneath his palm, the rustle of fabric, the shallow, frantic inhale that passes between you.
his breath catches—and for a beat, the alley holds nothing but the two of you and the terrible, aching choice you both already know the answer to.
riki looks at you like he’s coming undone, as if he’s being pulled apart at the seams of his being: back then, he wished for nothing to be a normal, human boy who could love you in every sense of the word—romantically, intimately, sensually.
he prayed for the day he could have you underneath him without fearing himself. to hear your moans and nuzzle his nose into your neck, breathing in the very essence of you—it seemed like a silly dream to him.
so when you breathe shakily, pretty lips parting just enough to whisper, “i want you to,” it’s like something in him snaps; the last thread of restraint tearing clean.
before you can even blink, riki’s got your wrist in his grip, dragging you through the narrow alley and into the nearest bathroom, the door slamming shut behind you with a sound that thumps like a heartbeat he no longer has.
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THE FAINT HUM OF COMPUTER’S BUZZING and keyboard mashing on the other side of the door is drowned out by the filthy sounds of you and nishimura riki’s—who you recently discovered was a vampire—make out session, which soon escalates to said vampire popping all the buttons of your blouse in an attempt to rip it off.
you squeal when he lifts you by the hips, setting you on the cheap ikea counter that the owner didn't bother to replace years back—riki remembers this cramped, dim bathroom from 50 years ago, when it nothing but an empty, abandoned building in the middle of an even emptier neighbourhood.
"fuck—" riki groans, nose rubbing against your jaw as he licks stripes of the skin on your neck. "i can't—shit, you smell so fucking good."
"i . . . want you, ki,” you mewl, ticklish from his rough tongue which still had someone else's blood on it. he smelled horrible, like he'd just been in an operating room where blood sprayed all over his body. "i want all of you."
he's starving. he's incredibly hard, too, and you know this because the tent in his pants is pressing against your inner thigh like it has nowhere else to go. you bite your bottom lip so hard that the skin breaks, and your own blood begins to meet your tongue.
his breathing hitches as soon as it happens, the hair on his neck standing. he parts from your neck, half lidded gaze locked on your lips which were bitten raw and smeared with your blood.
riki almost fucking whimpers at the sight.
“tell me no,” he growls, words scraping pathetically against his throat like he’s choking on them. his hand trembles where it holds your jaw, thumb dragging across your pulse that beats so sweetly under his skin. “tell me to stop.”
his breath fans hot against your neck, fangs just barely grazing the surface—a threat, a promise. you look up at him through your lashes, lips parted, trembling but certain. “i don’t want you to.”
that's all it takes for nishimura riki to slam his lips against yours, tongue lapping at every drop of blood that trickles from the broken skin.
you feel teeth clash, and you're locked under his touch that undoes every button on your blouse. riki stands steadily between your parted legs, your blouse thrown somewhere onto the floor—he's still wearing his hoodie, but you suspect with the way that this is going... it's coming off in sub 5.
"so good—tastes so fucking good, baby," riki moans between open mouthed kisses, savouring the flavour of your saliva and blood mixed together; he'd never had you this way, never gotten this close. "i need more, i need you."
he bites down harder on your bottom lip, sharp teeth sinking just enough to draw a bead of blood. the sting makes you jolt, a quiet sound escaping your throat before his hand shoots up, fingers wrapping around your jaw with practiced ease. his grip is firm, possessive—a warning dressed as tenderness.
don’t move.
his mind is hazy, that familiar feeling of nerves being on fire returning to him. riki almost faints with how overstimulated he is from the sheer pleasure, that little amount of blood drawn from your lips teasing him so fucking well.
he almost rolls his eyes back when you press harder against him, your hands moving quickly to wrap around his neck; he pulls away from the kiss, a red string of saliva being the only thing that connects the two of you, trickling like honey down your chins.
"ki. . ." you whine, wanting to close the gap, but he remains unresponsive.
sweat clings to riki’s forehead, the flickering bathroom light casting him in a feverish glow—lips parted, tongue dragging slow across blood-stained teeth.
he looks at you like a starving man, gaze heavy and delirious, locked on the frantic pulse in your neck.
every shallow breath he takes trembles with restraint, as if he’s holding himself back from tearing you open just to see how deep your warmth runs.
“y/n.”
once he gets a taste, he’s not sure how he’ll stop himself. even if he somehow does, he already knows he’ll never move on from this—from you. there will be no blood that could ever compare, no pulse that could ever sing the way yours does beneath his touch.
you are his greatest love, his sweetest sin.
the most exquisite meal he’ll have the misfortune of craving forever.
riki’s kicked out of his daydream when your hand reaches for the back of his neck, grabbing a fistful of his locks. he winces, but does nothing to fight back.
you pull him closer, his nose now barely grazing your neck.
you smell strongest here. he can hear it—the rush of blood through your arteries, your heartbeat loud and steady like a siren’s call. it fills his nose, his head, his every thought, until something inside him gives way.
every fragile thread of restraint snaps all at once. riki’s eyes flutter shut as he presses his nose deeper into your skin, breathing you in like salvation—like you were a divine offering sent down to forgive him for all his sins.
“fuuuck, baby. . . you smell so good.”
nishimura riki knew you were just temptation; but what he also knew was that he was falling for it.
you shake from the contact, feeling riki’s tongue beginning to lick stripes of the skin on your neck—it’s cold, and you feel the occasional graze of teeth that you know riki’s trying hard to fight.
his cock is twitching at the mere thought of tasting you already.
you feel a shaky exhale of cold air against your clavicle—it ghosts over your skin before vanishing, replaced by the sudden stillness that makes your pulse sound deafening in your own ears. riki pulls his head back, eyes dark and wild, the faint light catching on the sharp curve of his teeth.
you mutter, shyly. the command barely matches your demeanour, your flushed cheeks and bashful smile.
"bite."
nishimura riki's head snaps forward, fast and brutal, fangs tearing through the soft flesh of your neck. the impact knocks the air out of your lungs; pain blooms, hot and dizzying, before it’s swallowed by the pull of his mouth.
blood floods into him, thick and sweet, spilling past his lips as a low, guttural sound rumbles in his throat. “haaa. . .”
you feel his teeth sink deeper, inch by inch. your heart beats wildly, knowing that your lover could probably feel every pound, every thump against his mouth and tongue. he moans against your skin, tongue lapping around the two puncture wounds now permanently tattooed on your body—a symbol of your devotion to a monster.
“k-ki, oh—“
the sight only makes him harder.
your hand flies to your mouth, desperate to smother the scream clawing its way up your throat—but riki’s quicker, palm covering yours, pressing it harder against your lips.
your lover’s touch is trembling, almost tender, but his fangs are buried too deep for mercy to matter. tears spill down your cheeks, blurring your vision until the world is nothing but heat and pain and the sound of him drinking like he’s starving—like he’s been waiting for this all his life.
"tastes so good," riki speaks against you, slurping and sucking at every drop he can get his sharp tongue on. "so fuckingsweet, baby."
the way riki is desperately pressing his body closer to you, nose taking in as much of your air as possible while his mouth worked against your skin; it stirs something deep inside your core, twisting, eating away at your body from the inside.
his hands are everywhere—they’re gripping, clawing, trembling. your chest presses flush against his, and he lets out a muffled moan. the line between sin and salvation blurs completely, and nishimura riki sinks into it like it’s the only truth left in the world.
"it hurts, ki, fuck—" your speech is muffled against his palm, and he retracts his head to look into your eyes.
his irises are nothing but dark, tinted with a kind of red that made you shake.
he pulls his hand away, and he almost falls to his knees when you speak again in that loving, concerned voice of yours. "t-too much!”
blood runs down your clavicle in thin lines.
he's staring at you like he’s been struck, torn between the ache of hunger and the guilt clawing at his chest. his blood-slick lips part, trembling as he exhales.
“it hurts, ki,” you sniffle, “why does it hurt so much?”
the warmth spreads through him, pooling in his stomach, coursing down his oesophagus like fire and ice intertwined; nishimura riki slips entirely from the boy you knew, every trace of restraint gone, leaving only the monster he spent so long trying to keep buried.
"i'll make it feel good, baby," riki licks his lips, his cold palm running against your soft cheek, gently, like that’s all he’s been. “do you want that?”
you whimper when riki uses a finger to swipe the blood running down your skin, before he pops it into his mouth. he sucks his finger clean before he pulls it out of his mouth, a pop! sound echoing through the cramped room.
riki looks at you like he hasn't had enough—because he simply hasn't. the blood isn't enough.
no, now, he needs more of you.
his bloody fingers trail down your waist, eventually tracing your inner thigh—they inch closer to your entrance, and you feel his cold fingertip hook the thin fabric of your panties. he pulls, and it snaps against your skin, before he finally drags it down your perfect legs.
your breath hitches at the breeze of cold air that brushes against your bare skin.
his digits trace your folds, faux gentleness evident; you know he's just holding himself back.
"can't tell if you're wet or if it's just the blood," riki smirks, smug, head leaning in to close the gap between your neck and his mouth. “you wanna take a look, baby?”
his fingers sink into you, past that tight ring of muscle and deep inside your gummy walls—they’re stupidly long, moving slow as the blood from your neck mixes with your slick—it’s sticky, warm, so unbelievably dizzying as your head drops low to take a better look.
his fingers are stained red, swallowed by your pussy periodically as he pumps his digits in an out. you can’t tell if it’s mostly blood, either.
he breathes against your skin again, cold breath fanning against the open wound. you grit your teeth from the mix of pain and pleasure, the former pulsating from your neck and coursing through your veins, while the latter originates right from the core of your body.
you don't know which one makes you lean into him—the fact that he's teasing you with his fingers, or the fact that the pain begins to feel too fucking good for you to pull away.
“stay still for me, baby. like that, yeah—good girl.”
riki sinks his sharp teeth into your flesh again, his middle finger pressing firmly against your clit as if to distract you from how he loud he sucks at your skin.
you whimper and squirm at the action, but his fangs remind you to stay still. "r-riki, o-oh my god—"
the feeling of his thick fingers rubbing frantic circles at your swollen bud makes you dizzy—the pain comes secondary, trailing behind the pleasure that hits you with every curl of his fingers inside your cunt. it comes in waves, throbbing, sickening pulses that make your heart pound.
"feeling better?" he jeers, tongue running over the wounds. he savours the sweetness, closes his eyes like he's in heaven. "still hurt, baby?"
"y-yeah, fuuuck. . ." you whine, feeling the force of suction on your neck, but the sheer pleasure from riki’s fingers on you almost causes your vision to go white. "need more—it hurts too much, riki—"
"think i need more, too," riki interrupts your babbling, voice low and ragged—the words drag out between heavy breaths. he pulls back from your neck, lips and chin slick with red, tongue darting out to taste the remnants of you as if he can’t bear to waste a single drop.
he wants to feel your lips tremble when he finally puts his cock inside of you, whimpering against his; he thinks it must feel better than drinking you.
riki tastes like copper and iron—metallic and raw—reminding you of that time you’d held a coin in your mouth back in grade school, curious about what it tasted like. his lips fit perfectly against yours, like some kind of cruel, ironic fate.
when your teeth clash with his, it’s messy, desperate: tongues collide again, the taste of blood shared between you until you can’t tell where you end and he begins.
"i’ll make you. . ." riki murmurs between kisses, each one hotter, needier than the last—"feel so good. . ." kiss. ". . .till it doesn’t hurt anymore."
his voice breaks at the end, breath ghosting over your mouth like a promise he’s too far gone to keep.
his fingers push back into you slowly—your slick coats his fingers to the knuckle—the squelch of your cunt making his stomach grumble, as if he hadn't just tasted your life with his tongue and teeth.
you gasp softly, mouth hung as his long digits reach impossibly deeper. riki watches your expressions with an amused look painted on his face, eyes not knowing where to stay—your neck, which bleeding slowly, or your sweet cunt which sucked him in like it couldn't get enough. your eyes flutter shut as you wrap one arm around his neck, clinging onto him as if he wasn't the reason for your pain.
"o-oh!”
riki’s mouth latches onto your neck once again, fingers working simultaneously to pump in and out of you with sharper precision. he’s never done anything like this with you before—for good reason—but somehow, his hands move like they already know every inch of you.
as if he could predict every shiver of your body, every moan that would come out from your mouth if he'd just move his fingers here and there.
perhaps, in some twisted way, you already belong to him. he’s marked you in ways no one else ever could, claimed you with a bite that runs deeper than skin, into your very being.
now, he runs through your veins.
"don't know how i lived without you," riki mumbles. a sharp pain sends jolts through your body, and he feels you writhe in response. "be good for me, baby—doing so good."
you whimper at the praise, trying your very best to keep still as riki’s slow drag of fingers send you into overdrive. the room feels hot and sweat is clinging to your skin; his fingers feel so impossibly long and delicious, hitting every spot that made you see a new star.
"feels s-so good, ki," you breathe shakily, head tipping back until your nose points to the ceiling. riki smiles against your skin, lips wet with the mess he’s made—blood smearing across your neck as his tongue drags along the wound, tasting every drop like he’s worshipping it.
"squeezing me so tight," riki mocks, and he wonders momentarily if he should've done this earlier; he's got his teeth deep into you, and you still rut against his fingers like you need more. "you like this? you like it when i touch you here?”
perhaps being a vampire wasn't as much of a curse to your relationship as he thought it would be.
"mmmhm, love it, i love you," the words slip from your tongue, too fast for your own brain to register. you don't even think, can't even talk properly with the way he fingers you like he's done it millions of times before.
your hips move on their own. his fingers curl so sickeningly good as he continues his meal—the pain has faded, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your brain only registers how good nishimura riki was making you feel.
"such a good girl for me," riki whispers, loud enough for you to hear but not to care. "should reward you for this, huh? for letting me eat?”
you whine when he pulls his fingers out of you, cunt squeezing around nothing. riki looks up at you through his messy, black hair that hides his still ravenous gaze, eyes focusing on how your lips quiver.
“can’t fucking help myself.”
so, he unzips his pants, eye contact unbroken as he slips it off—it falls to the floor, pooling at his ankles. riki’s thumbs hook onto his briefs, pulling them downwards in one swift motion, lips curving into a maddening smile that only makes you leak.
he leans into you, lips meeting—the kiss is much slower, gentler. riki feels like he's on fire, like his skin is warm for the first time in centuries, heat blooming from his abdomen and spreading all over his body.
riki pulls away again to get a better view, head hanging low. he aligns his swollen tip with your entrance, tapping a few times just for the sake of teasing—you wiggle your hips, and he sucks his teeth at the impatience—eyebrows knit together in frustration as his gaze darts from where you two are soon to meet and where your cute face stares in anticipation.
"shiiit. . . " riki exhales shakily, hips stilling before he pushes himself in. the stretch almost knocks you out cold—he's long, thick, and each vein prods at your walls like they’re begging to be remembered; his jaw drops slightly, lips parted as a low moan leaves his throat. "o-oh, fuck. . ."
your walls squeeze him so tight. so warm, inviting, wet, the smell of your slick almost as sweet as the blood on his hands.
"'s too big, riki," you sniffle, arms clawing at his shoulders like it was the only thing keeping you steady. "i can't, i can't—"
he presses kisses to your jaw, then your ear, before biting down on the cartilage—you almost fucking cum on the spot from the feeling of pain radiating from the new wound, mixed with riki’s cock splitting you open.
“you can, baby. come on, please—be good for me. won’t hurt for long.”
you hear every measured breath he takes, each one heavier than the last; his tongue traces the thin trail of blood that’s dripped down to your earlobe, lapping at it with slow, deliberate strokes. it tickles—almost tender—but the bruising grip he keeps on your waist reminds you just how easily he could crush you if he wanted to.
he sinks his length into you agonizingly slow. it’s a cruel mercy to get you used to his size, and it almost feels worse than the pain itself with how it reminds you that this is the only solace he can offer.
"k-ki, please," you whimper as his tip kisses your cervix, "please, oh fuck—hurts too much!”*
you’re driving him crazy.
“i know, baby,” his tongue slides over your flushed ears, “you’re so cute when you’re clinging onto me like this.”
riki sinks his fangs into your ear once again, before retracting his hips—you whine at the emptiness, before he slams his hips into you like he'd finally lost all restraint.
"o-oh my god," you moan shamelessly, completely disregarding where you two were. for now, it feels like you’re alone with him, and these four walls are the only you’ve ever known.
the noises of students clicking keyboards, footsteps of people leaving and entering the establishment.
none of it matters anymore while nishimura riki has his teeth in you, his dick stretching you out.
"dirty girl," his breath tickles the shell of your ear, his voice sending chills down your spine. you feel blood run down the side of your jaw, to your neck, and riki laps it all up. "you like the pain? like when i. . ." he licks a long line right next to your tragus, "fuck you like this?"
what is he even saying?
his voice reaches you, muffled, ringing in your ears before your brain can really comprehend the speech. it’s all too much. he’s too much.
riki’s snapping his hips into you at a brutal rate, his ears picking up every pulse thrumming through your body. riki is so, so fucking grateful for his amazing hearing—he catches every soft whimper and cute moan that his cock pulls from you, the faint sound of your heart beating in the background, and he can't decide which one resembles heaven the closest.
"of course you do," riki confirms when he takes a moment to register just how wet you really are, feels like your pussy is talking back to him; your slick and his precum mix, squelching sounds echoing through the room. “too fucked out to say anything? come on, baby. tell me you love it.”
they're comparably less loud when he hears how you moan his name.
“k-kiii, yesyesyes—i love. . .” you bite down on your lip to silence the scream threatening to claw it’s way out of your throat. “hngh—fuck, i love it so much—“
you can barely string together words, breath hitching as his name falls from your lips again and again—a broken prayer, a plea, a promise of devotion.
“keep it down,” he whispers, “wouldn’t want anyone else to see you like this.”
riki thinks the blood from your ear isn’t nearly as sweet as the taste of your neck, but it’s softer, less cruel, and perhaps that’s why he lingers there. this is his way of atonement—a desperate, pathetic attempt to make something so unholy hurt a little less for you.
you cling onto him as he sucks, fangs fully puncturing the flat of your ear. you cry in response to the immediate, throbbing pain that follows, before riki angles his hips just right to fuck you stupid enough to see stars dancing around.
"so good, riki," you bite down on your lip instinctively, tasting the faint metallic tang from the cut he’d left there earlier—the memory of that first kiss reborn on your tongue. the moment the scent of your blood hits him, his head jerks up, eyes dark and wild. “g-god, you’re so fucking big—“
it’s instinct, barely thought, when he crashes his mouth against yours, the kiss messy and desperate. you melt into it, into him, all tongue and blood and saliva.
“you’re gonna kill me, baby.”
he moans into your mouth as his hips rut into you, abs flexing with each movement. riki tries to fight every part of himself that screams for more. the gnawing hunger is scraping at his ribs and threatening to tear him open; he wants to drain you dry, spurred on only by every sound you make and every whiff of sex his nose catches.
"you’re so fucking wet for me," riki mutters, forehead pressed against yours. "all mine, forever."
you can't think. your mind is filled with the smell of blood, how you've probably lost so much of it already. you pity your heart, your flesh, things you've so readily offered to nishimura riki on a silver platter, but somehow don't, can't regret.
his strokes are rough and romantic, clearly proof of how needy he was—even now, with his cock deep inside of you and your blood on his hands, he's nothing but an animal putting his own needs first.
plap, plap, plap. fucking into you like this was his life’s purpose: like the blood is secondary to whatever he’s feeling right now.
a warm feeling blooms in your abdomen, and it coincidentally earns a moan from your lover. "you're close," riki’s breath ghosts over your lips, and you're truly stunned at how you don't even realise how close you are until he acknowledges so. "s’cute—gonna cum all over this fucking dick? yeah? all yours, baby.”
you throw your head back at his words. it's too much for you to handle, every thrust knocking the wind out of your lungs—riki’s quick to press open-mouthed kisses along your neck, tongue dragging flat against your skin, right over your jugular where your pulse beats frantically beneath him. every breath he takes shudders against you, shaky and uneven.
"i'm gonna cum, riki, fuuuck—!"
his cock twitches inside of you, and you swear it swells bigger with every passing second. the room is filled with nothing but a cacophony of moans, wet slapping of skin and desperate, hungry slurps of blood. the build-up isn't slow for you, every coil in your stomach tightening at a frightening speed; the nights where you touched yourself to visions of him could never compare to being stuffed full like this.
riki’s hand holds your neck still, the other pinning your hips down to the counter. his pace starts to falter, hips stuttering as he fights his premature orgasm—the least he could do was for you to cum first.
"cum for me, baby," he commands. his voice is low and sends vibrations that pulse throughout your body, and it sends you over the edge. "cum all over me."
every thought you have is wiped from your mind, vision going white with a deafening ring in your ears. you gush all over him, body spasming underneath his touch, screaming silently with your jaw hung.
it’s mind blowing. your thighs twitch, lips quivering as they lock behind his hips—your hands claw at his back, digging deep into the cold flesh, clinging like a desperate mutt.
"o-oooh shit. . . fuck," riki’s eyes almost roll to the back of his skull when he feels you squeeze him so tight, he could mistake your cunt for a vacuum. his head hangs low, eyes locked on how your juices continue to coat the base of his dick. he continues to fuck himself into you, albeit slower, and you watch his eyes through wet lashes. "gonna cum inside t-this perfect cunt, y/n,"
you swear he has hearts in his eyes. they're red, completely red now—your orgasm lasts excruciatingly and embarrassingly long, though nishimura riki pays no mind with the way you squeeze him for everything he's got, all while you cover him in the sweetest liquid he's ever smelled.
this definitely beats the blood.
"sooo fucking perfect." riki runs his tongue over his fangs, but he's convinced he'll have to taste both to see which really fares best.
you moan with each sloppy stroke, the sounds of his hips meeting yours now louder by tenfold, all thanks to the extra lubrication.
it's messy, needy, rough, haphazard—every word in the dictionary combined couldn't describe riki's pace, groans slipping past his lips as he pounds your cunt like he wants to make a family.
"riki—" you cling onto him, closing the gap between you. your arms find their way around his neck, and you feel humiliated with how fast you feel that build-up in your stomach again: if you could look at riki, you're sure he'd have a sickening smirk painted on his face. "slow down, o-oh my god,"
"can't," he responds, too eager for you to miss, "fuck, gonna fill you up and make you mine, y/n."
and in an attempt to ground yourself to whatever plane of reality you’re in right now: you bite back.
your teeth sink into his skin, his blood beginning to bead beneath your lips. his eyes go wide, a mix of shock and something darker flickering behind them, like the line between pain and pleasure had just blurred beyond recognition. riki almost cums, embarrassed at how it makes his cock twitch so fucking hard—your small, pathetic human teeth that were incapable of sinking as deep as his, but still trying anyway—it's making him go mad.
"cum inside of me," you whisper devilishly into his ear, and he can hear how you lick your teeth clean; a mocking portrayal of him which flips every switch in his brain. "want it so bad, ki, please."
that’s all it takes.
“g-gonna cum, baby, fuckfuckfuck—“
he slams his hips into you one last time. a harsh thrust sends him over the edge and you feel impossibly warm, riki’s cum filling you to the brim—you muffle your scream by driving your teeth further into his muscles, which tense under your bite.
he moans, lewd, loud as he stills inside of you, head hanging low as he tries not to fall to his knees.
"o-oh fuck, y/n,” riki sucks in air through his teeth, panting as his lungs try to even his breathing. "baby. . .”
a few beats pass in silence, your cheek now resting against his shoulder as your nose nuzzles against his neck. he breathes heavily, cock still plugging you closed.
his grip tightens, fingers digging into your sides like he’s trying to anchor himself to reality—to you. his chest rises and falls in uneven rhythm, the sound of his breathing loud against your ear. when he exhales, it trembles. he’s holding you as if the smallest movement might shatter the moment, or worse, make you disappear.
when you lift your head from his shoulder, his eyes meet yours—brown again, soft and dazed, like he’s only just come back to himself. he looks wrecked, lips glossy with blood and saliva. the sight makes your heart pound.
riki tilts his head slightly, gaze flicking from your eyes to your mouth, and for a moment, he looks at you like you’re the only thing tethering him to what’s left of his humanity. he leans in close, fingers gripping your frame, lips greeting yours in a way that speaks gentleness.
"i love you," riki breathes between soft, lingering kisses—the tenderness of it all feels almost foreign after everything that’s happened, and it makes your heart do backflips. “i love you so much.”
for just a second, you catch a glimpse of the riki you fell for months ago—the one who smiled at you in the halls, who brushed your hair from your face like you were something delicate. "you’re mine," he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, fangs grazing your skin again. "forever."
“i love you too,” you whisper, cheeks flushed with a delicate innocence that somehow makes the danger in front of you seem so much softer. “all of you, ki.”
he’s not sure if you’re an angel sent by god or temptation delivered by the devil.
either way, he’ll take damnation or forgiveness—whatever it costs, so long as he gets you.
Synopsis: When Ni-ki leaves the room for only a moment, everything goes wrong.
Word Count: ~1.6k+
A/N: Hai! I honestly love me a good yakuza story with Riki so I thought I’d give it a try! I hope you all enjoy!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Flour dusted the counter like fresh snow.
Ni-ki stood behind you, arms loosely bracketing your waist as you leaned forward to peer into the oven, brows furrowed in concentration.
“It’s not burning,” you said, amused. “You can relax.”
“I don’t trust it,” he replied flatly, but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth anyway. He reached forward, brushed a smear of flour from your cheek with his thumb. “You’re bad at waiting.”
“You’re bad at letting things be,” you shot back, turning your head just enough to bump his nose with yours. He kissed your nose, squeezing your waist a little tighter.
For someone who ruled half the city through fear, Ni-ki was unbearably gentle with you.
That was the problem.
The phone rang.
He stiffened instantly.
Not startled - alert.
You felt it before you saw it, the way his body went still, the warmth behind you sharpening into something coiled and dangerous.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, already pulling away and patting the top of your head. “Don’t move, okay?”
You nodded easily. Why wouldn’t you? This was your kitchen. Your home.
Ni-ki stepped into the hallway, phone pressed to his ear.
“…What do you want?”
A pause.
Then his jaw tightened.
“Careful,” the voice on the other end said mildly. Amused. Almost…taunting. “You shouldn’t leave soft things unattended.”
Ni-ki turned sharply. “What did you say?”
The line went dead.
At the exact same moment-
Glass shattered.
The sound ripped through the house like a gunshot.
“Y/N!”
Ni-ki spun, sprinting back toward the kitchen-
Too late.
The window above the sink was blown out, shards glittering across the floor. Cold night air rushed in. Flour streaked the tiles in chaotic smears, your mixing bowl overturned, batter dripping slowly onto the counter.
You were gone.
Ni-ki stopped dead.
For half a second, the world went silent.
Then something in him snapped.
“LOCK THE HOUSE DOWN,” he barked into his comm, voice terrifyingly calm. “Find out which clan moved tonight. I want names. Now.”
Guards flooded the space, weapons drawn, voices overlapping - but Ni-ki barely heard them. His eyes were fixed on the floor.
On the faint drag mark near the window.
On the broken glass.
On the single earring resting neatly beside the bowl.
His hand closed around it, hard.
This was the earring he gifted you on your wedding day. You never took them off.
You’d left it for him.
On purpose.
“…You trusted me,” he murmured, something raw breaking through his control. Then his gaze lifted, burning.
“Big mistake.”
♡
The rival clan’s compound lit up like hell itself.
Ni-ki tore through it with ruthless precision - doors kicked in, men disarmed, screams echoing through concrete halls. He didn’t waste words. Didn’t ask twice.
The man responsible was waiting for him.
Leaning casually against the far wall of the corridor, hands tucked into his pockets like this was nothing more than a game well played. Blood smeared the floor near his feet - evidence of Ni-ki’s path through the compound.
“You move quite fast,” the man said lightly. “I almost admire it.”
Ni-ki stopped.
The air around him shifted - heavy, lethal.
“Where is she,” he said.
Not a question.
The man smiled. “Still alive. You’re welcome.”
That was his mistake.
Ni-ki crossed the distance in a blink.
The impact sent the man crashing into the wall, breath tearing from his lungs as Ni-ki’s hand closed around his collar, lifting him clean off the ground.
“You broke into my house,” Ni-ki said quietly.
Calm. Deadly.
“You touched what belongs to me.”
The man choked out a laugh. “You’re getting sloppy. Leaving her alone. Softening.”
Ni-ki’s grip tightened.
“I was kind enough to keep her untouched,” the man continued hoarsely. “Thought you might want to thank m-“
The sentence never finished.
Ni-ki released him only long enough to strike - fast, precise, brutal. He didn’t shout. Didn’t lose control.
He ended it.
When the body hit the floor, Ni-ki didn’t look back.
He stepped over it like it was nothing.
Because the only thing that mattered was you.
♡
By the time he reached the back room, knuckles bloodied, breath steady but lethal, he already knew.
And then he saw you.
Tied to a chair, wrists bound, hair disheveled - but upright. Breathing. Eyes snapping up the second the door opened.
“N-Ni-ki—”
He was across the room in seconds.
“Hey. Hey, hey, hey,” he said urgently, already crouching in front of you, hands shaking as he worked the restraints loose.
“I’ve got you baby. I’m here. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have -“
The ropes fell away.
You barely had time to inhale before his hoodie was draped from his arms to your shoulders, his hands cupping your face like he needed to make sure you were still real.
“They didn’t hurt you?” he asked, voice low, frantic. “Did they touch you? Say anything? Are you dizzy? Should I get the doctor?”
“I’m okay,” you whispered, though your hands were trembling. “I was scared.”
That was enough.
Ni-ki gathered you up without another word, lifting you bridal-style and sinking down onto the floor with you settled securely in his lap.
His arms locked around you like steel, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other tracing your arms, your sides - checking. Grounding.
No one else came near.
“Get out,” he snapped to his men without looking up.
The room emptied instantly.
Ni-ki pressed his forehead to yours, breathing you in like oxygen. “You did so good,” he murmured, voice breaking just a little. “You were so smart. I found the earring. I was never not going to find you.”
You curled into his chest, fingers gripping his shirt. “I knew you would.”
He closed his eyes at that.
When he carried you out, the night felt quieter somehow. Safer.
And Ni-ki never loosened his hold - not once - like the world had already proven what happened when he did.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I hope you all enjoyed! Sorry if it felt rushed, I’m struggling with pacing a bit but hopefully I can product longer stories soon! I had fun writing this one so tell me if I should do more yakuza Ni-ki.
Pairing: vampire!Ni-ki x anemic!reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Soft Angst, Fluff
Synopsis: When your body gives out before you do, Ni-ki is forced to confront hunger, fear, and love - all at once.
Word count: ~1.8k
A/N: Hai! This is the third story I’m writing today 🥀. That’s okay though! I’m having fun! I hope you guys enjoy this one too!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ni-ki knew something was wrong the moment you stopped talking.
Not abruptly. Not dramatically. You just…faded.
Your steps slowed as you walked beside him, shoulders slumping a little more with every passing second, your replies to his questions turning softer. Shorter.
“You okay love?” he asked for the third time.
You nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He didn’t believe you.
You smelled off - not in a way that made his hunger spike, but in a way that made worry twist uncomfortably in his chest.
Your skin felt cooler than usual when he brushed his fingers against your wrist, and when you swayed slightly, he caught your elbow without thinking.
“Hey,” he said, sharper now. “Sit down.”
“I’m fine,” you insisted, already lowering yourself onto the couch anyway.
That’s when it happened.
A sudden warmth beneath your nose. A blink. Then another.
“Oh,” you murmured, confused, reaching up -
“Don’t touch it.”
Ni-ki was already in front of you.
You froze at the tone of his voice - not loud, not angry, but tight. Controlled. His eyes were fixed on your face, pupils slowly widening as the metallic scent reached him.
Blood.
Not much. Just a thin trail slipping past your upper lip.
But it was enough.
Ni-ki swallowed hard, jaw locking as he forced himself to look away, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie. He took one step back. Then another.
“Ni-ki?” you whispered, dizzy now. “I think I-“
“You’re anemic,” he said quickly, grounding himself in facts. “You told me. You didn’t eat today.”
“I did,” you protested weakly. “I just… forgot.”
His chest rose and fell too fast.
“Stay right there,” he said, voice low. “Don’t move.”
He disappeared into the bathroom, gripping the sink as he splashed cold water onto his face. He stared at his reflection - at the way his pupils refused to shrink, at the sharp edge of hunger pressing at the back of his throat.
For a split second, a thought crossed his mind—unwanted, intrusive.
How easy it would be.
He slammed his eyes shut immediately, knuckles whitening against the sink.
He hated himself for even thinking it. Hated the part of him that reacted before love, before reason.
You weren’t food. You were his everything.
I love her.
I love her.
I love her.
He grabbed tissues, a clean cloth, iron tablets you kept in the cabinet because he made sure you did.
When he came back, he moved slowly.
Deliberately.
“Okay,” he murmured, kneeling in front of you. “Lean forward a little.”
You obeyed, eyes glassy.
He pressed the cloth gently beneath your nose, careful not to touch your skin more than necessary. His hands trembled - not from hunger alone, but from fear.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”
That almost broke him.
“Hey,” he said softly, lifting your chin just enough to meet your eyes. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
His gaze flickered - just once - to the cloth, now stained faintly red of your blood.
He inhaled sharply and immediately looked away.
You noticed.
“Ni-ki…” Your voice was small. “Are you okay?”
“I should’ve told you sooner,” you whispered. “I didn’t want to worry you. I know it’s…hard for you.”
He let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. “I should be asking you that.”
The bleeding slowed, then stalled - like it wasn’t quite ready to let go yet. Ni-ki’s thumb twitched against your knuckles before he stilled it, jaw tightening again.
Eventually, the bleeding subsided. He helped you lie back, keeping his distance even as every instinct screamed to pull you closer.
“You need to eat,” he said. “And drink water. And rest.”
You nodded, eyelids drooping. “Will you stay?”
That did it.
He hesitated only a second before sitting beside you - far enough to breathe, close enough to protect. He took your hand carefully, thumb brushing your knuckles in a repetitive, grounding motion.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised.
Your breathing evened out slowly, exhaustion pulling you under. Ni-ki watched every rise and fall of your chest like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.
When you finally fell asleep, he stayed awake.
Hours passed. The hunger seemed to fade. The fear didn’t.
Later, when you stirred, he was still there.
“You didn’t leave,” you murmured.
He shook his head. “I never would.”
“I was scared,” you admitted quietly. “Not of you. Of how much it hurt to see you like that.” You squeezed his hand gently, “You held back.”
He swallowed. “Always.”
A quiet moment settled between you - soft, steady, safe.
And for the first time that night, Ni-ki let himself breathe.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: Yeah so let’s be real I’m going to be writing a few more tonight. 🙂 Welp. I hope you enjoyed and if you have any requests feel free to send them!
Synopsis: Ni-ki has mastered control - until blood enters the equation. When instinct overrides reason, distance becomes both a shield and a mistake.
Word Count: ~2k
A/N: Hai! This is the second storyline I’ve written today! I’m in the writing mood so I hope you all enjoy!!
ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ni-ki liked moments like this.
Not because he needed to eat - he didn’t, really - but because standing in the kitchen with you felt normal. Safe.
You moved around the space like it belonged to you, sleeves pushed up, music playing softly from your phone while he leaned against the counter and pretended not to watch.
The knife slipped when you weren’t looking.
It wasn’t dramatic. Just a sharp sting and a quiet inhale you hadn’t meant to take.
You looked down in mild surprise as a thin line of red bloomed along your finger.
“Oh—”
“Don’t.”
Ni-ki’s voice cut through the room.
You glanced up at him, startled, and immediately understood why he sounded like that.
He was frozen. Completely still, eyes locked onto your hand. His pupils had blown wide, swallowing the brown until they were almost black. His fingers curled tightly at his sides, knuckles pale, like he was holding himself in place by sheer will.
“It’s okay,” you said quickly, pulling your hand closer to your chest. “It’s just a small cut, I—”
“I said don’t,” he snapped, louder this time.
The sound echoed too sharply in the kitchen.
You flinched.
Ni-ki noticed. He always noticed.
His jaw clenched, chest rising too fast, and he turned away abruptly, gripping the edge of the counter like he needed it to somehow stay upright.
“Why would you be so careless?” he said, the words rushing out before he could stop them.
They landed wrong. Heavy. Unfair.
“I didn’t mean to,” you replied quietly, shrinking into yourself.
He let out a short, breathless laugh - strained, not amused. “That’s the problem.”
For a moment, it looked like he might say something else. Apologize. Step closer. Instead, he took a measured step back, then another, putting distance between you like it was the only thing keeping him in control of the situation.
“I need you to stay here,” he said tightly. “Don’t come near me.”
Before you could respond, he turned and walked down the hall in a determined stride.
The door to your shared room slammed shut.
The sound lingered long after it faded.
You stood there alone, heart beating a little too fast, staring at the space he’d just left behind.
Slowly, you turned back to the sink, rinsing your finger under the faucet, watching the water swirl pink before clearing.
You wrapped it carefully. Quietly.
You told yourself he hadn’t meant it. That he was just scared. That he was trying to protect you.
Still, the house felt wrong now. Tense. Like it was holding its breath.
You grabbed your jacket.
Just for a little while, you decided. Just long enough to give him space. Time to calm down.
Before leaving, you tore a page from your recipe notebook - long forgotten in the chaos - and folded it once, setting it gently on the counter.
I’m okay, I promise.I just thought it might help if I gave you some space.Please don’t feel bad. I should’ve been more careful.I love you.
You slipped out quietly, closing the door behind you with a soft click.
♡
Ni-ki didn’t come out right away.
He stayed in his room, sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, breathing slowly like he’d practiced a thousand times before. He told himself the distance was necessary. That he’d done the right thing.
Eventually, the sharp edge of hunger dulled. Panic eased.
Guilt rushed in to take its place.
He stood abruptly, opening the door of your shared bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered to himself. “I shouldn’t have-”
The apology died in his throat when he stepped into the hallway.
The house was quiet. Way too quiet.
“Love?” he called softly.
No answer.
His chest tightened slightly as he moved through the kitchen, eyes catching on the bandage by the sink. Clean counter. Knife put away.
Then he saw the note.
His hands trembled as he picked it up and read it.
You’d apologized.
You’d left to make it easier for him.
Something in his chest broke open.
“No,” he whispered, crushing the paper in his fist. “I messed up. I messed up.”
He grabbed his jacket and phone without thinking.
♡
Your location wasn’t updating.
The realization hit him all at once, sharp and utterly nauseating.
“No—no, no,” he muttered, fingers trembling as he refreshed the screen.
Once.
Twice.
Nothing.
You could be anywhere.
The thought made his chest ache painfully.
Every worst-case scenario his mind had spent years suppressing clawed their way to the surface, one after another.
He’d scared you. He’d pushed you out. And now he didn’t even know where to start looking.
He checked the streets first. Then the park. Then the small convenience store you liked to go to when you couldn’t sleep.
Nothing.
With every passing minute, the guilt settled heavier in his chest, crushing. He replayed the moment over and over - your flinch, the way your shoulders had curled inward, the sound of the door shutting behind you.
I did this.
He wasn’t afraid of the hunger anymore. He was afraid of himself.
By the time he spotted you, sitting on a quiet bench with your shoulders hunched, he nearly collapsed from the relief alone.
He stopped short, breath catching painfully in his throat.
You were still there.
Still safe.
He stopped abruptly when he saw you.
“Hey,” he said, voice unsteady.
You looked up, surprised - and then worried. “Ni-ki?”
He crossed the distance in two steps, dropping to his knees in front of you without caring who might see.
“I’m so sorry,” he said immediately, bowing his head. “I should never have raised my voice. I scared you, and that’s the last thing I ever want to do.”
You shook your head. “I know you didn’t mean-“
“I did,” he interrupted softly. “But that’s not an excuse.”
He gently took your uninjured hand, holding it like something precious. “I would rather starve than ever hurt you,” he said shakily. “And the fact that I almost did - ”
Ni-ki’s breath faltered, silence enveloping the both of them.
You swallowed. “I just didn’t want to make it harder for you.”
He pressed his forehead to your knee, breathing you in like an anchor. “You are never the problem,” he murmured. “Never.”
Carefully, he lifted your bandaged finger, kissing your knuckles instead. A promise. Control.
You smiled through the ache in your chest. “Come home with me?”
He nodded instantly. “Always.”
This time, when you walked back together, he never let go of your hand.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I hope you guys enjoyed this small oneshot as it’s my second piece! I might write some more since I’m in flowstate right now 🙏 Hopefully my writings getting better too!
Synopsis: When a gentle foreign exchange student begins sitting beside you in class, Ni-ki mistakes his own emotional distance for loyalty - and jealousy quietly rots where communication should’ve been.
Word Count: ~3.2k+
A/N: Hai!! I’m sorry I have been so inactive!! There was a lot happening these past few days and I actually went to see the Stray Kids DominATE in theaters! If you would like to see pictures, I’m more than happy to share! Anyways, here is the fic! It’s a rare one because NIKI IS IN SCHOOL!! 🙀 (Also, cookies and cream is my favorite sooo the picture is making me hungry~)
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Ni-ki’s shoulder has always been yours.
Not officially. Not something either of you ever talked about. Just - natural. You sit beside him, legs angled toward his, snack bag crinkling softly between you as you lean your head there like it belongs.
And it does.
He doesn’t move when you settle in. Doesn’t stiffen. Just tilts his head a fraction so it’s easier for you, eyes still on his phone.
“You’re gonna get crumbs on me,” he mutters.
You grin, nuzzling your head more into his neck. “You love me.”
He scoffs, but his arm shifts, elbow pressing lightly against your side - protective, habitual. Like a silent stay.
This is how it’s always been.
♡
The teacher clears her throat at the front of the classroom.
“We have a new student joining us today. He’s a foreign exchange student from China, so please be welcoming.”
The boy beside her bows politely.
“My name is Zhang Hao,” he says, accent gentle, careful. “Nice to meet you.”
There’s murmured hellos. Curiosity.
Whispering.
Then the teacher scans the room.
“There’s an empty seat…ah. Next to you.”
She gestures - directly at you.
Ni-ki’s head snaps up.
Zhang Hao follows her gaze and smiles softly, walking down the aisle until he stops at your desk.
“Hi,” he says quietly, almost apprehensively. “Is this okay?”
“Yeah - yeah, of course,” you answer, scooting your chair slightly to make space.
He sits.
Ni-ki tells himself it’s nothing.
♡
Zhang Hao struggles through the lesson.
Not loudly. Not disruptively. Just…pauses, brows knitting together when the teacher speaks too fast. When unfamiliar words pile up.
You notice.
You always notice.
So you lean closer and whisper explanations in Chinese under your breath - simple, quick translations. He brightens every time, nodding, scribbling notes with renewed confidence.
“谢谢,” he mouths once. (Thank you.)
You smile.
Ni-ki sees it.
His jaw tightens, just a little.
She’s just helping, he thinks. She’d do that for anyone.
Still - when you don’t lean on his shoulder that day, he notices the absence like a bruise.
♡
It starts small.
Zhang Hao waits for you after class, polite and hesitant. “Can I ask you something?” he says. “I don’t understand the homework.”
You sit with him in the library. Then again the next day.
He listens when you talk. Like - really listens. Doesn’t interrupt. Doesn’t tease. Just nods and asks thoughtful questions.
When you yawn, exhausted, he gently slides his jacket toward you.
“You look tired,” he says. “You can use this.”
Ni-ki watches from across the room.
Zhang Hao’s voice is soft. His movements careful. When you thank him, he smiles like it means something.
Ni-ki’s chest twists.
I would’ve told her to just sleep more, he thinks.
I would’ve said she’s fine.
Why does that suddenly feel…insufficient?
♡
Ni-ki replies slower now.
“Busy” replaces paragraphs.
“Later” replaces teasing voice notes.
You don’t call him out on it. You just get quieter.
Zhang Hao notices.
“Are you okay?” he asks one afternoon, concern immediate.
You hesitate. Shrug. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He doesn’t push - but when you lean forward, shoulders sagging, he gently pulls you into a hug.
It’s not dramatic. Not tight.
Just…warm.
Safe.
Ni-ki sees it.
The way Zhang Hao’s hand rests lightly between your shoulders. The way you don’t pull away.
Something sharp flares in his chest.
Jealousy - but not the explosive kind.
The slow, poisonous kind that whispers:
He’s gentler than you.
He sees her differently.
What if she needs that more?
Ni-ki doesn’t realize his fists are clenched until his nails bite into his palms.
♡
You break.
It’s after school. The hallway is quiet. Zhang Hao is explaining something - then stops mid-sentence when he sees your eyes fill.
“Hey,” he says softly, switching to Chinese without thinking.
“你还好吗？” (Are you okay?)
The words undo you.
You shake your head, tears spilling. “我不知道我做错了什么…” (I don’t know what I did wrong…)
Zhang Hao panics a little, stepping closer.
He hugs you again - instinctive, protective.
“I’m here,” he murmurs.
Ni-ki rounds the corner.
He freezes.
He doesn’t understand the words. Just the image. You crying. Zhang Hao holding you.
Then Zhang Hao says - quietly, in English-
“If he’s hurting you… you deserve better.”
Ni-ki’s stomach drops.
He turns away before either of you notice him.
And for the first time, the jealousy isn’t loud.
It’s hollow.
Because deep down, a thought keeps repeating, cruel and clear:
What if he is talking about me?
…what if he’s right?
♡
Ni-ki doesn’t go home right away.
He sits on the stairs by the gym, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor until it blurs.
His phone is heavy in his hand. Your contact name sits at the top of his screen, untouched.
If he’s hurting you…you deserve better.
The words loop.
Hurting her.
Deserve better.
He scoffs quietly, rubbing at his face. “I didn’t-“ he mutters to no one. “I didn’t do anything.”
But that’s the problem, isn’t it?
He thinks of all the times he brushed off your bad days with a shrug.
All the times he said you’re fine instead of are you okay?
All the times he stood beside you instead of actually looking at you.
Zhang Hao held you while you cried.
Ni-ki clenches his jaw.
Since when does she cry where I can’t see?
♡
You’re packing your backpack when Ni-ki finally corners you.
“Hey,” he says, a little too sharp. “Why are you always with him lately?”
You blink. “What?”
“With Zhang Hao,” he says. “You’re always helping him. Always talking to him.”
You stare at him for a second - then laugh once, breathless.
“Is that what this is?” you ask quietly. “Jealousy?”
“I’m just asking,” he snaps. “You don’t even hang out with me anymore.”
Something in your face closes.
“At least he asks if I’m okay.”
The words land harder than a shove.
Ni-ki goes still.
“What?”
You sling your bag over your shoulder, voice shaking now. “He notices when I’m tired. When I’m quiet. He doesn’t just assume I’ll deal with it.”
“That’s not-“ Ni-ki starts.
You step back. “I didn’t say he was better. I said he cares enough to ask.”
You walk past him before he can answer.
Ni-ki stands there, hollowed out.
♡
You don’t get far before the tears come back.
You duck outside, sitting on the steps, hugging your knees. Zhang Hao spots you a minute later and hesitates - then approaches slowly.
“你还好吗？” he asks gently. (Are you okay?)
You shake your head. “我好累。” (I’m so tired.)
He sits beside you, not touching. Just there.
“你不用一个人撑着,” he says quietly. (You don’t have to hold everything alone.)
You cover your face. “我不想失去他…但我也不想一直觉得自己不重要。” (I don’t want to lose him…but I don’t want to feel unimportant all the time.)
Zhang Hao nods, understanding heavy in his eyes.
“You deserve to feel chosen,” he says - in Chinese this time, softer than before.
“你值得被珍惜。” (You deserve to be cherished.)
♡
Ni-ki finds Zhang Hao in the library.
“I know you don’t owe me anything,” Ni-ki says stiffly. “But…are you trying to take her from me?”
Zhang Hao looks startled - then serious.
“No,” he answers immediately. “I like her. But I would never hurt her.”
Ni-ki swallows.
“She cries,” Zhang Hao continues carefully. “And when she does, she thinks it’s her fault. That worries me.”
That’s it.
That’s the nail in the chest.
Ni-ki bows his head. “Thank you for taking care of her,” he says quietly. “I should’ve done that.”
♡
Ni-ki waits until you’re alone.
“I don’t own you,” he says, voice low and unsteady. “I know that. I just-“ He exhales. “I got scared. And instead of dealing with it, I pulled away.”
You don’t answer.
“I was jealous because he’s gentle,” Ni-ki admits. “And I thought being protective was enough.”
He looks at you then, really looks.
“I see now that it wasn’t.”
Silence stretches.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me right away,” he adds. “I just want to be better. For you.”
♡
Weeks Later
Ni-ki doesn’t rush you.
He doesn’t crowd you with apologies or ask “have you forgiven me yet?” like it’s something he can earn in a day.
Instead - he shows up.
It starts small.
A text every morning.
“good morning baby 🤍
did you sleep okay?”
Sometimes you don’t answer right away.
He never double texts.
On your desk at school, you find snacks you like. Always your favorites. Always neatly placed. Never a big show.
Sticky notes appear.
Don’t skip lunch.
You looked pretty today. Like everyday.
I’m proud of you.
You keep every single one.
He waits for you after class without complaint. Walks you home even when it’s out of his way. When you’re quiet, he doesn’t try to fix it - just stays.
When you lean into him again, even just a little, his breath always stutters like he’s afraid to take too much.
Trust rebuilds slowly.
Brick by brick.
♡
It’s a Saturday when you go to his house.
Not planned. Not dramatic. Just…natural.
You ring the doorbell.
It opens almost immediately.
Ni-ki stands there barefoot, hair messy, wearing the hoodie you like. His eyes widen when he sees you - like he wasn’t sure you’d ever show up like this again.
He’s holding something.
Your stuffed animal.
The one you gave him forever ago. The one he sleeps with when you’re not there.
He freezes, embarrassed.
“I - uh,” he starts.
You don’t let him finish.
You step forward and wrap your arms around him, hands caressing the back of his head.
He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for weeks.
His arms come around you slowly, carefully - then tighter when you don’t pull away.
“I forgive you,” you murmur into his chest.
His hands shake.
“I promise,” he whispers, voice thick, “I’ll keep choosing you. Every day.”
You nod, pressing your face into his hoodie.
The silence stretched for a while before you broke it.
“…take me inside…please…it’s cold,” you say softly.
He immediately does, getting you one of his hoodies when you step in.
♡
You end up on his bed, tangled together.
You curl against his chest, his arm around you like it’s exactly where it belongs. He presses a kiss to your hair, gentle. Reverent.
Safe.
The jealousy is gone now.
All that’s left is warmth.
And the quiet certainty that this time -
he knows how to hold you.
♡
EPILOGUE
You’re sitting on the steps outside the school when Zhang Hao joins you, backpack slipping off one shoulder.
“今天真的好累,” you sigh in Chinese, stretching your legs out. (Today was really exhausting.)
He laughs quietly. “你总是这么说.”(You always say that.)
“I mean it today,” you insist. “考试、练习、还有你- 一直问我数学问题.”(Exams, practice, and you—constantly asking me math questions.)
He grins. “那是因为你讲得最好.”(That’s because you explain it the best.)
You’re mid-eye roll when arms slide around your waist from behind.
Warm. Familiar.
Ni-ki.
He presses his chin briefly to your shoulder and places a snack into your hands like it’s second nature.
“Eat,” he murmurs. “You skipped lunch again.”
Your face lights up immediately.
“You remembered,” you say, already tearing it open.
“Of course I did,” he replies, sitting down beside you without letting go - one arm still snug around your waist. He leans in and kisses your temple softly, like it’s habit now.
Zhang Hao watches the interaction with a small, knowing smile.
“你们两个看起来很好,” he says gently. (You two look really good together.)
You glance at Ni-ki. He squeezes your waist, thumb brushing slow, grounding circles.
“We’re okay now,” you say.
Zhang Hao nods. Then, after a beat, he adds - quiet, sincere-
“他学会怎么爱你了. (He learned how to love you.)
Ni-ki doesn’t understand the words.
But he understands the smile you give him.
And that’s enough.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: I feel like this was a pretty lovely one! It’s my first time having another character that isn’t in ENHYPEN but I think this worked well!!
hi!! i dont know if ur taking requests but im really craving a yearning enha fic… where any member & yn are arguing and then yn suggests breakup and they yearn and beg to not break up with them, its strong and messy and just YEARNING, only if u want to do this!!
I’m Listening Now
Pairing: idol!Jake x reader
Genre: Hurt/comfort, HEAVY YEARNING, angst, emotional, idol AU, slow reconciliation
Synopsis: When Jake keeps brushing off serious conversations with smiles and jokes, what he thinks is “keeping things light” slowly makes you feel unheard and small. After one intense argument, it forces Jake to sit with the weight he’s always avoided.
Word Count: ~5.5k+
A/N: Haiii!! I saw this request come in and I was really excited!! This is a really good storyline and I haven’t done a request in a while so I really hope you guys enjoy!! Also, I chose to do Jake because he doesn’t have as many fics on my page!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
Jake doesn’t realize he does it.
That’s the worst part.
The first time you try to talk to him about it, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, twisting your fingers together while he’s scrolling on his phone.
“Can we talk about something?” you ask carefully.
He glances up and smiles immediately. That easy, sunshine smile that makes everything feel lighter.
“Uh-oh. That sounds serious.”
You give a small laugh. “It is. Kind of.”
He scoots closer, nudging your knee with his. “You’re not about to tell me you secretly hate living with me, right?”
You hesitate.
Just enough.
He doesn’t notice.
You swallow. “No. I just… I feel like we haven’t really been talking lately. Like actually talking.”
He chuckles softly. “We talk all the time.”
“I mean like-“ you try again. “Deeper than just schedules and what we’re eating.”
He smiles again. Ruffles your hair.
“You’re overthinking.”
The conversation ends there.
Not because you’re satisfied.
But because he makes it sound so small.
♡
The second time is after he forgets something important.
Not a birthday. Not something dramatic.
Just a promise.
You’d asked him to come home early one night because you’d had a rough day. He agreed.
He came home two hours late, laughing about something that happened at practice.
You’re quiet while he talks.
Eventually you say, “I waited.”
He frowns. “Waited?”
“You said you’d come home early.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Practice ran long. You know how it is.”
“I know,” you say softly. “But you could’ve told me.”
He smiles again, that same smile.
“Why are you looking at me like I committed a crime?”
You stare at him.
“I’m not.”
He wraps his arms around you from behind, and kisses your head.
“Don’t be upset, okay? It’s not that deep.”
Not that deep.
It echoes.
♡
The third time is smaller.
You’re sitting on the couch, telling him about something that’s been weighing on you for weeks. Something vulnerable. Something that scares you.
He listens.
But halfway through, he laughs awkwardly.
“Why do you always think the worst-case scenario is going to happen?”
Your chest tightens.
“I’m not thinking the worst-case. I’m just telling you how I feel.”
“You always make things sound so dramatic,” he says lightly. “It’s cute.”
Cute.
You don’t feel cute.
You feel unheard.
♡
By the time the argument finally happens, it isn’t explosive at first.
It’s quiet.
You’re in the kitchen.
He’s rinsing a glass.
You say, carefully, “Can we talk?”
He stiffens slightly.
“…About?”
“Us.”
He laughs nervously. “That tone…why does it sound like we’re in a drama?”
You don’t smile this time.
He notices.
“Okay,” he says, defensive edge creeping in.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel like you take me seriously.”
He blinks.
“What?”
“When I tell you something bothers me, you laugh. Or you say I’m overthinking. Or that it’s not that deep.”
He sets the glass down a little too hard.
“I don’t say that.”
“Yes, you do.”
He exhales sharply. “I just don’t like making small things into big problems.”
“It’s not small to me.”
“And why does it always have to be this heavy?” he says, voice rising slightly. “Why do you always make things so serious?”
There it is.
The line.
Silence falls like something breaking.
You stare at him.
Because that’s the pattern, isn’t it?
Every time you try to open up, he makes it smaller.
You swallow.
“Because it is serious to me, baby.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I just don’t get why we can’t just be happy.”
“We can’t be happy if I feel like I’m talking to a wall.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair,” you say, voice shaking now, “is that this keeps happening.”
He goes still.
“What keeps happening?”
“You dismiss me.”
“I do not dismiss you.”
“You do.”
“You’re twisting it-”
“I am not twisting it!” Your voice cracks. “You laugh every time I try to be vulnerable. You make it sound like I’m dramatic for having feelings.”
He shakes his head. “I’m trying to keep things light.”
“Why?” you whisper.
“Because I don’t want everything to feel heavy all the time!”
And then it happens.
The worst part.
He says it again, louder this time.
“Why do you always make things so serious?”
The words land harder this time.
You don’t yell back.
You just…withdraw.
Your shoulders drop.
Your face changes.
And that scares him instantly.
“If loving me feels heavy,” you say quietly, “maybe you shouldn’t.”
His breath stutters.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“It sounds like it.”
“You’re twisting-”
“I’m not twisting anything.” Your voice is calm now, slower paced then before. Too calm. “I’m tired, Jake.”
He feels it.
The shift.
The “Jake” instead of baby.
Not anger.
Distance.
“Don’t do that,” he says, stepping closer.
“Do what?”
“Don’t shut down.”
“I’m not shutting down. I’m protecting myself.”
His hands start shaking.
“From me?”
You nod.
And that is what breaks him.
“Maybe we need space,” you say softly.
“No.”
It comes out immediately.
Panicked.
“No, don’t say that.”
You walk past him toward the bedroom.
He follows.
“What does that even mean? Space for what?”
You pull a small bag from the closet.
His stomach drops.
“You’re not packing.”
“I think we both need time to think.”
“Think about what?” His voice cracks.
“We’re fine.”
“We’re not.”
He grabs your wrist gently.
“Please.”
You look at him.
And he sees it.
You’re already halfway gone.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers.
“But you said it,” you reply.
You zip the bag.
“I can’t keep shrinking my feelings to make you comfortable.”
He starts crying before he realizes he is.
“I’ll fix it,” he says desperately. “I swear I will. I didn’t mean to make you feel small. I didn’t know-”
“That’s the problem,” you say softly. “You didn’t know. Because you didn’t listen.”
You step toward the door.
He feels like he can’t breathe.
“Don’t leave,” he chokes.
“I need to.”
And then you’re gone.
♡
The door clicks shut.
And Jake stands there.
Waiting.
Because part of him expects you to come back in.
To say you forgot something.
To say you changed your mind.
The silence stretches.
Nothing happens.
The air feels wrong.
He walks to the door slowly. Opens it.
The hallway is empty.
That’s when it hits.
She actually left.
His knees almost give out.
He shuts the door gently this time, like being loud might make it more real.
Your shoes are gone.
Your charger isn’t plugged in.
Your toothbrush is missing.
He presses his hand against his mouth and lets out a broken sound he doesn’t
recognize as his own.
The apartment doesn’t feel like home.
It feels like a place he messed up in.
He walks into the bedroom.
Your side of the bed is untouched.
He sits on it carefully.
Like it might disappear.
And that’s when the spiraling really starts.
Why did I say that?
Why couldn’t I just listen?
Why did I laugh?
He replays every single time you tried to talk to him.
Every smile.
Every “it’s not that deep.”
Every “you’re overthinking.”
And now he hears it differently.
Dismissive.
Cold.
He grabs his phone.
Types:
“I’m sorry. Please come back.”
Deletes it.
Types:
“ I didn’t mean it. I love you.”
Deletes it.
Types:
“Can we talk?”
Deletes it.
Because he knows.
If he reaches out right now, it’ll be to make himself feel better.
Not you.
So instead, he curls up on your side of the bed.
And for the first time in a long time—
He doesn’t try to distract himself from the heaviness.
He lets it sit on his chest.
And it hurts.
♡
The apartment feels too quiet.
The fight replays over and over.
Why do you always make things so serious?
He hears it the way you must have heard it.
Like: Why are your feelings so inconvenient?
He puts his arm over his eyes.
And for the first time, there’s no smile to hide behind.
No joke.
No deflection.
Just him.
And the realization that every time you tried to open your heart, he laughed.
Because he was scared.
Because he didn’t know how to sit with discomfort.
Because he thought love was supposed to be easy.
He whispers into the empty room,
“I made her feel small.”
And it destroys him.
♡
Days pass.
Jake stops sleeping properly.
He still goes to work.
Still smiles.
Still laughs when people expect him to.
But it feels fake now.
Because the one person he was supposed to be real with-
He pushed away.
At night, he stares at his phone.
Your chat pinned at the top.
Profile picture of you kissing his cheek.
He rereads old messages.
The ones where you were excited.
The ones where you said “I love you” first.
He plays your voice notes just to hear you say his name.
He keeps thinking about that moment in the kitchen.
The way your voice changed.
The way you said, “I’m tired.”
Not angry.
Not yelling.
Just tired.
And that breaks him more than anything else.
One night he ends up sitting on the kitchen floor again.
Back against the cabinet.
Whispering to himself,
“She was just asking me to listen.”
He presses his palms into his eyes.
“I couldn’t even do that.”
He isn’t crying dramatically.
It’s quiet.
Constant.
Like guilt leaking out of him slowly.
♡
He doesn’t text paragraphs.
He doesn’t beg.
He sends one message:
“I’m listening now.”
A bit ominous, you think. But, you don’t reply.
Weeks go by.
You eventually move back in - not because everything is fixed, but because you agreed to try.
But it’s different.
You’re polite.
Kind.
Distant.
You sleep on the far edge of the bed.
Not touching him.
Jake lies perfectly still.
Terrified that if he moves even an inch, you’ll pull away further.
He wants to reach for you so badly it physically aches.
But he doesn’t.
Because he remembers.
You said you felt small.
So he gives you space.
Even though it feels like suffocating.
Some nights he turns his face toward you and just…looks.
At the outline of your shoulder.
At the way your breathing evens out.
He whispers apologies into the dark.
Not loud enough for you to hear.
Just loud enough for him to feel them.
You don’t initiate deep talks anymore.
And that hurts more than when you left.
Jake doesn’t joke when you talk now.
He doesn’t interrupt.
When you say something bothers you, he sits.
Even when it’s uncomfortable.
Even when it makes his chest tight.
He nods.
“I understand.”
He starts asking, “Would you like my advice or would you rather I listen?”
He catches himself when he almost laughs.
He says, “That makes sense.”
Every day, he chooses differently.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just consistently.
♡
A week after you move back in, something small happens.
You drop a glass in the kitchen.
It shatters.
You flinch.
He’s there immediately.
Not dramatic.
Not panicked.
Just steady.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly.
You nod.
But your hands are shaking.
He kneels down carefully, picking up the pieces.
And he says it without looking at you,
“I used to think if I kept things light, nothing could break.”
His voice is quiet.
“I didn’t realize I was the one breaking things.”
Your throat tightens.
He finally looks up at you.
Eyes red.
Not from crying now.
From holding it in for weeks.
“I miss you,” he finally says.
Not “I miss us.”
Not “I miss when things were good.”
Just-
“I miss you.”
It isn’t dramatic.
It isn’t begging.
It’s worse.
It’s honest.
And you can see it.
The guilt never left.
The effort never stopped.
He’s not trying to win you back loudly.
He’s trying to deserve you quietly.
And that’s when something in you starts to thaw.
♡
Jake doesn’t realize you’re there.
He’s sitting in the practice room long after everyone else has left, phone facedown on the floor, elbows on his knees.
Heeseung sits beside him, quiet.
“I didn’t think I was hurting her,” Jake says, voice breaking halfway through the sentence. “I really didn’t.”
He laughs once, hollow. “I thought I was being easy to love.”
Heeseung doesn’t interrupt.
Jake wipes at his face angrily. “She was asking me to listen. That’s it. And I kept acting like her feelings were…an inconvenience.”
His shoulders start shaking before he can stop it.
“I made her feel small,” he whispers. “And I don’t know how to forgive myself for that.”
He presses his palms into his eyes, breathing uneven.
“I don’t need her to come back,” he adds quietly. “I just need her to know I finally hear her.”
From the hallway, you freeze.
You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.
But hearing him say it - without you there, without needing anything-
It stays with you.
♡
One night, you’re sitting on the couch.
You tell him about something that upset you at work.
You wait.
Out of habit.
For the smile.
The joke.
It doesn’t come.
He just says softly, “That sounds really frustrating.”
Your throat tightens.
“And?”
“And…I’m sorry you had to deal with that.”
Silence.
“You’re not going to say I’m overthinking?”
“No.”
He swallows.
“I don’t ever want to make you feel like your feelings are too much again.”
Your eyes sting.
He continues quietly,
“I wasn’t trying to make you small. I was just scared of sitting in hard things. But that’s not your fault. That’s mine. Entirely.”
You look at him fully for the first time in weeks.
“And?”
“And I love you so much. Even when things are serious.”
The room feels different.
Safer.
You shift closer.
Just slightly.
And Jake doesn’t rush it.
He just stays.
Present.
Listening.
Waiting.
And when you finally lean your head against his shoulder again-
It feels earned.
Not because he begged.
But because he learned.
♡
It’s late.
The room is dark except for the streetlight bleeding softly through the curtains.
You turn in bed and press closer to him - just instinct, just warmth.
Jake stiffens.
Then his breath hitches.
He tries to stay quiet.
He fails.
His shoulders shake, face turning into your hair as silent tears soak into your shirt.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over, like it’s a reflex. “I’m so sorry.”
You don’t say anything at first.
You just wrap your arms around him.
Hold him.
Let him cry it out without fixing it, without rushing him, without making it lighter than it is.
His grip tightens, like he’s terrified you’ll disappear again.
“I’ve got you,” you murmur finally.
He breaks at that - soft, exhausted sobs - and clings to you like he’s been holding himself together for weeks and finally doesn’t have to anymore.
This time, you stay.
And this time-
He listens.
*ੈ✩‧₊˚
A/N: AGHAGAHA I hope you guys enjoyed this!!! It was super fun to write but honestly it’s a little sad… ☹️ Regardless, to whoever requested this, I hope it fit your vision and there was enough yearning 😉! 🤍🤍🤍
Summary: Your long-term relationship with your bodyguard-slash-personal assistant Lee Heeseung goes way back in high school. Ever since then, he keeps your heart guarded and humbled in every possible way since your makeup line started to rise into fame. But when a dating scandal tied you with your brand's ambassador, leading to a PR stunt that will last for two years, that's when you realized that your relationship with Heeseung was starting to crumble because of the fortune and popularity.
Fourth installment of Big reputations series.
✰ Song inspirations: King of my heart by Taylor Swift, National Anthem by Lana del rey, Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift
✰ Word count: 22.7k
✰ Tags: CEO au, bodyguard/assistant au, established relationship, secret relationships, aged-up characters (they’re both in their early 30s) relationship conflicts, jealousy, ANGST, mild fluff ig, smut!!! misunderstandings, rumors, breakups (and getting back together,) heeseung is such a green flag and down bad (fuck yesss), usage of korean honorifics. mentions of kpop idols.
✰ CW: plot with porn, smut, service dom! Heeseung, p in v sex, unprotected sex (pls dont), cumming inside, bathtub sex, praise, petnames, riding, fingering, kinda breeding kink, idk what else to tag but this is just soft shitty smut and they’re very much in love.
✰ Asul's note: FUCK YES ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP WITH CONFLICTS, one of my favorite tropes to write. After almost two months I was able to finish this one, thank god. Anyways, I eyeballed everything so don’t come after me and yeah, buckle up because this is going to be a long-ass ride. Not proofread by the way.
The hallways were empty and lights were dimmed throughout the whole building. The only lights that were on were in your office where you sat on your couch, analyzing the latest product campaign for your new lip gloss collection.
You leaned against the headboard too casually like you’re in your house, but it shouldn’t surprise you either since you basically treat your office like it's your own home. Eleven pm was still early for you to go home. There are a lot of things that you still need to check and approve before the meeting tomorrow — you want to make sure that everything will be flawless after all.
Then a soft knock echoed inside the empty office, completely startling you. Your hands scrunched the paper you were holding as you looked up at the person who disturbed you.
“It’s eleven in the evening,” he said. “I think it’s time to go home.”
“Give me five minutes.” you quickly said before shifting your attention towards your paper.
“You said that thirty minutes ago.”
You only smiled, “and yet you let me go past five minutes.”
“Okay, that is enough, let’s go home y/n,” Heeseung said in defeat before walking towards you. You were quick enough to dodge his hands as you gave him a glare.
“Heeseung.”
“Love.” he dictated and your heart skipped.
“Damn you Lee, I thought endearments aren’t allowed inside the office?” you cursed at him.
“During office hours, and it’s just the two of us here,” he explained and with you distracted, Heeseung snatched the papers off your hands. You could only groan as a complaint when he returned to your table to put down the papers. After that, he grabbed all your stuff before approaching you once again.
“Come on now, or do you want me to carry you on the way towards the elevator Miss l/n?” he asked.
You chuckled to his suggestion. Grabbing your bag from him, you put on your shoes and stood up to face him, “I don’t think that the securities will be pleased to see their boss being carried by her bodyguard Mr. Lee.”
“I am your bodyguard for a reason,” he pointed out.
“That wasn’t part of your job description.” you joked and Heeseung merely laughed at your words. You walked out of the office first, and eventually, Heeseung followed behind after grabbing his bag. Walking behind at a safe distance until you two entered the elevator.
The two of you went inside the elevator together, Heeseung pressed the button of the underground parking, and the silence devoured you two in a tension that crawled on both of your skin. You two were an inch apart and yet, it kills both of you to be at that distance.
“Your place? Or mine?” Heeseung asked suddenly.
“Mine,” you simply said before opening your bag. As the elevator reached its destination, you lent Heeseung the keys of your car which he accepted without any questions.
The two of you went to the only car inside the parking lot. Heeseung unlocks the car’s door, opening the door of the passenger seat for you. You gave him a smile as you went inside before he closed it and went to the driver’s seat.
It had become a routine. An act that you two had memorized and danced around for years. The moment Heeseung started the engine, your shoulders relaxed and you could finally breathe again.
“Do you want some food?” he asked as he started to drive away from the building.
You shake your head, massaging your temples as you feel your head spinning. “Just tired.”
““I want to go straight to bed” tired or “I needed something relaxing to do” tired?” he asked once again while his eyes were fixed on the road.
“The latter.”
“What do you want to do then?”
“A bath? Maybe something to soak into,” you mumbled as you leaned on the window, you watched as the car passed by stores and establishments that were closed at the dead of the night. Now that you had gotten out of your office, you suddenly felt weary and tired.
“Just take a nap, I’ll wake you up when we’re home,” Heeseung ordered and it felt like a spell because you unknowingly let out a yawn.
Before you knew it, your eyes closed by itself, drifting to your slumber. The car was quiet as Heeseung only drove smoothly. Eyes on the road as he lets you sleep throughout the whole drive.
As soon as you two reached the building of your house and parked at the garage, Heeseung turned off the engine and glanced at you.
“Hey,” he tapped your shoulder lightly and in a split second, you woke up, glancing at him who gave you a smile.
“We’re home.” Heeseung announced as he removed your seatbelt.
“Thank you love,” you mumbled.
As the two of you walked out of the car together, you couldn’t help but to lean against Heeseung’s side, a subtle way to break down the gap between the two of you. Heeseung knew what it meant and gently, he placed his arms around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. It was each other’s cue — the two of you are free to move now.
Because behind closed doors and private moments, you and your personal guard-slash-assistant Lee Heeseung were lovers. A love that goes way back in high school. Way back in your small hometown where you and Heeseung lived in the same street, went to the same school, wherein your friendship bloomed into a young, puppy love that seemed to be perfect like the movies.
They say never mix business with pleasure, and you make sure that your private life is completely uninvolved in your company. Especially now that your makeup brand has become a consistent trend globally, everyone’s eyes are also on you. Having been present in every collection launch and talks, you were the face of your brand — the spotlight will always be on you, that’s why you wanted to make sure that your personal background would remain unexposed to the world.
While your lover? Heeseung preferred to be in the shadows. A few feet apart from you, assisting and guiding you in every step you make. He made sure you remained grounded, and you’re thankful that he’s always there watching after you. He wasn’t just an assistant in your company — everyone knows how important Lee Heeseung is to their boss.
Still, no questions about your relationship with him. They merely see it as something professional, and perhaps because the two of you are great with hiding your relationship in public.
The reason why it remained private? Simple — Heeseung doesn’t want to be in the spotlight. He just doesn’t want to. End of discussion. It was his only request and you knew that it was for the best for the two of you. Having a relationship revealed in public could end up with unsolicited advice from strangers, the continuous questions about your status rather than your own business, and of course, rumors and scandals that may ruin one’s reputation.
Hence why you two continued loving in secret. Your status remained a mystery to the whole world and you only gave them a smile whenever they asked you whether you're single or not.
“Does it matter?” it’s always been your answer. There’s no interview of yours wherein they ask about your status and every interview, that’s your answer. They seem like they have grown tired of your answer. The public seemed to have concluded that you’re just a strong, independent woman who didn’t need a man, while the man who always trails behind you was just nothing but your bodyguard.
If only they knew, sometimes you wished they knew how tender Heeseung’s love is for you. How he treats you so delicate yet admires your serious side especially inside the office. You wanted to brag about it to other people, but you remained quiet because you didn't want to be a selfish one who couldn’t comply with her lover’s only wish.
But perhaps, Heeseung was the selfish one here, since he didn’t want to share to the public how he loves you. You two could’ve been a great image of a long-lasting love but maybe, things like that are meant to be a quiet form of love.
Despite that, your relationship with Heeseung has been going strong ever since you said yes when he asked you if he can be your boyfriend. It’s not perfect, you’ll admit. There are flaws and challenges you two had to face, but everything seems to be peaceful now. Your relationship has become secure ever since.
“I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday,” you complained the moment you entered the bathroom.
The bathtub was halfway full. Everything’s warm and smelled like lavender. Heeseung was by the cabinet, returning the scent oils you two keep while you hummed in contentment. You grabbed a hair tie and tied your hair in a messy bun enough to keep it dry during the bath.
“You’re overworking yourself too much, that’s why,” Heeseung answered. You only chuckled in his words before you started to undress yourself, same goes with him.
“Well, this is my life Hee,” you pointed out after shrugging the last garments. “And it will always be. Who am I if not a good CEO who’s hands-on to her company and people?”
Heeseung faces you. His expression was soft yet filled with worry, “I know my love, and I’m proud of you. But sometimes, you have to put yourself first, alright? It might deteriorate your health at some point.”
“It won’t, you’re there to look after me after all,” you said with full confidence.
“Of course, I will always be here,” he assured before planting a kiss on your lips.
You kissed him back — just enough to feel his lips and love for you. The tension started to rise and the room became hotter as Heeseung’s hold on your face tightened, a breathy groan escaped his mouth as his movement became hungrier, eager for more that it became too much. You pulled away from him in a second, catching your breath as his hands let go of you.
“I’m too tired for sex love,” you told him immediately, and he only stared at you, nodding before giving you a smile.
“Okay, it’s okay love, should we get into the bath?” he offered and you nodded.
The bath tub was almost full when you and Heeseung settled inside the bath tub. The water was enough to cover you two. You leaned your back against Heeseung’s chest and everything moved out of instinct. Heeseung grabbed the loofa nearby, lathering it with enough soap before he grabbed your arms, carefully scrubbing it.
“You don’t have to do this,” you whispered to him and a kiss on the temples was all you got.
“But I want to,” he insisted, and his careful touches were enough for you to relax against his warmth as he continued cleaning every part of your body.
Heeseung had already memorized every part of your body. He knew you like the back of his hand that he knew which sigh was out of relief or out of contentment. He knew that when you rubbed your ears, it was out of discomfort or how you fiddle your fingers out of anxiety.
Or when you rubbed your shoulders with your thumb gently caressing it, you’re eager for something — that’s when he stopped. Placing down the loofa beside and letting you settle down on his chest again. Your thumb left your shoulders and instead was placed on his hands that were wrapped around your stomach area. You started playing with his slender fingers, intertwining with it which he squeezed lightly as answer, making you giggle at the act.
“Contended?” he asked.
“I love it,” you smiled. “A relaxing bath with my loving boyfriend, everything’s perfect love.”
Heeseung hummed at your answer. You rested further on his weight, head on the corner of his shoulder which instinctively made Heeseung kiss your temples.
You closed your eyes as you found yourself relaxed at the tranquil silence. Ignoring how your lover’s hands started to travel around your body, since Heeseung has always been touchy with you.
But slowly, his right hand trailed from your stomach down your pussy. You open your eyes out of surprise when he starts playing with it.
“Love —” but you were cut off when Heeseung hushes you, slender fingers gently rubbing your clit in circles making you lean against him further. “Ha — shit.”
“You wanted to relax, right? Just let me do my work,” he kissed the end of your shoulder while his fingers did good motions on your bud. “Just relax my love. It’s just us, let yourself fall.”
A deep exhale escaped your lips as he drew eights on your clit at just the right pace. Enough to make you moan and give your body little twitches every second. You could hear his contended hum as his left hand travelled on the swell of your breasts. Gently fondling your left curve which left you wanting more.
“Heeseung — please,” you whispered and before he could ask, you turned your head on him and captured his lips in which he reciprocated immediately. The kiss was gentle and careful. His lips guided yours in a careful motion, before you pushed yourself deeper on him, earning an earthy chuckle from your lover.
“What happened to ‘no sex’ tonight?” he teased.
“We’re just kissing,” you stated. “Just — please, I just want to feel good.”
Heeseung hummed for a second before inserting his callous fingers inside your entrance, completely catching you off-guard.
“Love — oh!” his fingers curled at your spot immediately, earning a shaky moan from you. You fell immediately to his touch, breathing becoming unstable as he continued to play with your insides. Your warm walls hugged his fingers, needy and eager to grasp its roughness as Heeseung’s fingers did scissoring motion in a fast pace before curling at the spot that had you seeing stars.
“Hee!” your right hand found its way to his arms but your lover only hushed you quietly, a broken sob escaped your lips as you looked at him. “Please?”
“Are you going to cum now love? That fast?” he teased with a smirk and as much as his tone annoyed you, you nodded to his question, eager for release and an orgasm that hopefully might wash off today’s stress.
Heeseung locked his lips on yours again, hungrier and rougher which you reciprocated with much desire. His finger continued abusing your hole until you broke down — moaning in his lips as your toes curled at the sensation, pussy clamping his fingers but that didn’t stop him, and instead, Heeseung pulled out without any hesitation and rubbed your clit fast.
“Stop! Hee —” you gripped on his shoulders tight, your back ached as his hands didn’t stop playing with your clit until you were a crying mess. You were catching your breath when he stopped while you remained shaky by the aftermath.
You don’t even know if you were exhausted or relaxed by his actions, and yet, you let your lover shower you with kisses and hum as he wrapped his arms around your stomach. Contented with his actions while you close your eyes again in attempts to relax.
“You did good my love,” he whispered to you as he planted a kiss on your temples. You only hummed in response, body finally relaxing as the high slowly started to dissolve. You leaned back against him but you weren’t ignorant with the way his thick cock poked against your back.
“Love, you’re hard.” you told him.
“I know, but It’ll down die later.” he answered immediately and that made you turn around and look around him.
“It’s unfair on your part,” you said before shifting your position to face him.
“Love, you said you’re too tired for sex and I understand. I did it to relax you further, not lead you onto having sex with me,” he explained and as much as you wanted to be flattered by his soft explanation, you couldn’t help but to crave for more especially when his huge shaft stood tall in front of you.
“Yeah, but I couldn’t relax further now, you riled me up Hee,” you objected.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, “you sure?”
And instead of answering him, you shifted further close to him. Your knees scraping against the marbled surface of the bathtub before you grabbed his dick, pumping it a few times before you aligned it on your pussy.
“I want this,” you answered back before you felt his bulbous tip opening your entrance further, making you moan at the sensation as you slowly sinked down to his cock.
“You feel so good love,” you whispered to him as you felt yourself full and filled while your pussy swallowed his cock whole. You leaned close to him and sealed his lips with a kiss before gazing at him. His round bambi-like eyes turned sharp and lustful making you smirk as you cup his cheeks gently.
“Just relax for me, love alright?” with that, you moved your hips. Going up and down as the water started to spill outside the tub. Your pace slowly became fast as you felt the sensation of your cervix getting rammed by Heeseung’s cock.
Heeseung rested on the edge of the bathtub. Hands on your waist as he watches you bounce on his dick, eager to get him off, even though the mere view of you on top of him was enough. The breathy moans that escaped your lips every time his tip kissed your cervix, the way your expression distorted in pleasure while your tits bounced at every movement. Heeseung could only curse under his breath — he’s the only one who could see this side of you after all.
“Fuck, keep going love,” Heeseung moaned before capturing your breast with mouth. He looked up to you, watching you throw your head back out of pleasure as his tongue swirled around your hardening bud. Your grip on his shoulder tightened as he held you firm on your waist, guiding you in your movement.
“Hee — oh my gosh!” you shouted as you became more rougher, knees reddening against the surface but it only drove you further to make your lover cum.
“That’s it love — fuck, your pussy’s sucking me good y’know?” he spoke into you, pushing you further until your pussy’s starting to tighten around his cock.
“Fuck, why am I — I’m supposed to make you cum!” you cried, but you didn’t stop, you continued your actions because you could feel your orgasm brewing in your pit.
“It’s no worries love,” Heeseung assured. “Come here.”
Heeseung pulled you for another hungry kiss, you let yourself fall back as you kissed him. Hands tightening on his shoulder while you continued bouncing on his dick — the same time he started thrusting upwards to meet your movements.
The pleasure became more intense. Everything felt overwhelming, filled with eagerness as both of you followed a rhythm that only you two could do. The tub that used to be full is now halfway empty due to the roughness of your actions, too hungry for the pleasure of each other’s warmth.
And perhaps, you two are just madly, deeply, in love with each other, because the moment you two broke off the kiss, and you let yourself rest on Heeseung’s shoulder, your lover continued the act for you, knowing that your stamina is lower than him.
You came before he could’ve, but Heeseung didn’t care at all. He had loved that you tried even though you insisted that you’re not in the mood for sex tonight. That’s why he took over, taking care of you just like he always does.
It didn’t take a while for him to cum too. He relaxed underneath your touch, arms tight around your waist as his cum spilled inside you, warm and thick, you could only whine in satisfaction of being filled by your lover.
“You did good love,” Heeseung assured. Rubbing your back gently as he kisses your temple. You only hummed as you let yourself be assured by your lover.
“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, head resting on his shoulder as you find yourself becoming drowsy, tiredness finally hitting you.
“No worries love,” he repeated. “Should we get out now? The water’s cold now, maybe we should take a quick shower to wash our body further.”
You nodded as an answer before your lover carried you to move towards the shower area. The shower was quick with Heeseung washing every inch of your body while you stood there, tired and on the verge of sleeping.
After changing into sleeping clothes and having your hair dried. The two of you returned to the bedroom — not until you grabbed your phone because that’s when you noticed the numerous missed calls from your employee.
“It’s Jungwon,” you announced as you looked at your phone.
“At this hour?” Heeseung tried to snatch your phone but you managed to dodge his hands.
“It might be important,” you stated, knowing how the younger one could be.
Heeseung crossed his arms, “it’s past midnight, things like that are unprofessional y/n.”
“But he won’t be calling me at this hour if it wasn’t important,” you reasoned out.
“Because you enable this habit of his,” Heeseung interjected. “Come on now, let’s go to sleep. We still have work tomorrow —”
“Five minutes,” you pleaded. “Just five minutes and I’d be in bed.”
Heeseung stared at you for a second. He only shook his head before he nodded, “fine, five minutes.”
You smiled at him before planting a kiss on his lips. “Love you.”
Heeseung hummed, accepting your gesture as he smiled shortly, “love you too.”
He watched as you left the room while he made himself comfortable on your king-sized bed. The silence was killing him. You should’ve been in bed, cuddling with him to sleep but Heeseung knew how important your company is to you that you just couldn’t help but to look after it at this ungodly hour.
Heeseung decided to just kill time by playing some online game, something worth five minutes while waiting for you. He grabbed his phone and opened some of his games — and he finished it within five minutes.
He looked at the bedroom door and you’re still outside. Still talking to Jungwon who’s probably talking his heart out about whatever idea he has that he had to bug you late at night. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he looked up at the ceiling. He pondered about whether to get up and grabbed you to go to sleep, but the bed became too comfortable for him to move. Heeseung finds himself tired now too.
Five minutes turned into ten, until slowly, Heeseung lost track of time and he had drifted off to sleep without you on his side.
-
Your company has always been a bustling building that smelled like rose and soft eucalyptus.
The atmosphere has always been light. Bright greetings and warm smiles welcomed you in which you reciprocated naturally as you made your way towards your office. You always made sure that your employees aren’t intimidated by you. Limitations exist but you didn’t want them to deem you unapproachable.
Meanwhile, Heeseung was behind you, casual and relaxed while carrying your bag — a daily sight for everyone. They knew Heeseung was your personal assistant, and they knew how meticulous he was when it came to his job. They always joke about it. Wherever you are, there’s Heeseung trailing behind you.
Still, they never question your relationship with Heeseung. Especially when you two keep it professional and at distance whenever there are employees around.
“Good you’re here,” Jungwon, your creative director, greeted. He was sitting casually on the couch when you entered the office.
“You’re too excited for your proposal Mr. Yang,” you smiled at him as you went to your desk chair. Heeseung placed down your bag at the table, greeting Jungwon midway.
“Well I am because I think this is going to be the turning point of our company Ms. l/n. Trust me on this one,” he insisted, filled with enthusiasm that you couldn’t bear to ignore.
“You said that last night too, and I can trust your suggestion as always. Please gather every section head and hold a meeting at ten, I’ll be there immediately,” you ordered and with that, Jungwon nodded.
“I already gave them a gist of it and they like the idea. All I need is your approval if I am going to be honest.”
“Well, I am listening,” you answered. “What you propose has always been for the good of the company, so who am I to say no?”
“Good, that’s good call Ms. l/n, I’ll see you later at ten,” and with that, Jungwon left the office. You only crossed your arms as a chuckle escaped your lips.
“Always an enthusiastic kid,” Heeseung commented with a chuckle.
“He has so much potential that it’s scary sometimes,” you added. “But it’s good potential, I like how he went from that anxious intern back then to a more confident board member in our company.”
Heeseung nodded, “I wonder what he’s planning to propose this time.”
“We’ll learn about it in the meeting, but for now, how about a warm cup of coffee?” you asked, glancing at him with a nod.
“Of course Miss,” he answered with a formal tone, and that was your cue. The two of you are in your office personas. No more petnames, or sweet gestures. He’s now your assistant, while you’re his boss.
-
The conference room was cold yet it was filled with anticipation as you sat in the middle chair. Heeseung sat on your right, Ipad in front of him as he was readying himself to jot down important details during the meeting.
Jungwon was already in front, pacing back and forth, mumbling some words under his breath which you find amusing. Soon, every chair was filled with the section head who seemed confident about today’s agenda.
“Now that we’re here, should we get the meeting started Mr. Yang?” you stated, loud and clear enough for your other employees to be quiet.
“Of course! Without further ado, the reason why I called everyone in this meeting was because I have found Mayumi beauty, a new brand ambassador,” Jungwon proposed, and you raised an eyebrow.
Heeseung glanced at you. A brand ambassador? This one’s not new to you but it’s been months since you last had an ambassador. You weren’t able to find another one who’s suited for the image of your brand.
You watched as the presentation changed its slide. Jungwon clicked the video revealing a GRWM video from an idol. You weren’t familiar with musicians and singers, but you had found him appealing.
He had strong masculine features, sharp jaws and eyes, and a pretty bare face. He spoke with much softness as he went on with how he does his skincare routine.
“And this, I use this as my toner — this is my last bottle actually, and I heard this one’s discontinued, so shoutout to the owner of Mayumi beauty, please don’t. I need this toner, this one’s mild and doesn’t irritate my face at all,” he then laughed before gently placing the product on his face. He was careful with it, delicate like patting a baby’s skin.
You couldn’t help but to stare at him longer. Finding his features and movement gentle and clean, he seemed perfect.
“Stealer’s Jay?” one employee asked.
“Stealer has a good reputation. Ten years in the industry, no scandals, no controversies, they’re good-looking too,” Jungwon explained “I chose Jay specifically because one, he supports our products, and two, he’s the nation’s gentleman. His gentle and masculine aura is suitable for Mayumi’s calm and colorful branding. Plus, this video was just released yesterday. It trended worldwide and now, fans are demanding to buy the toner.”
“If we are able to get him as our ambassador, we could re-launch the night sky collection again, and it’ll be in demand this time,” you mumbled under your breath, deeply pondering about the possibilities of your collection becoming popular if you release it at the moment along with Stealer’s Jay becoming the face of your brand.
“That’s true! With that, we could also release a variety of skincare collections aside from makeup products, this is the perfect timing Miss l/n that I am talking about,” your director pointed out. A few employees agreed, while you remained quiet, deeply pondering about it as your eyes never left the screen where Jay’s face was plastered.
You didn’t even notice how your lover’s stare lingered on you for too long.
He could see it. The glimpse of hope in your eyes — the feeling wherein someone had appreciated your products. The Night sky care routine was one of your first collections that you had released. It was a risk, venturing to skin care from makeup products. Heeseung advised you to take it slow and focus on makeup products, but you were persistent.
In the end, the sales weren’t good compared to your makeup products. You were forced to stop the production and just let it run out of stock. It took you years to return the loss in profit that you never tried to launch other products aside from makeup products.
“Would he accept it?” you asked. “You know how some labels are wary about endorsement deals, if he’s really that popular, it would be probably hard for us to reach out to him.”
“Trust me in this one boss, I know how to contact Jay’s manager directly, give me a week and we’d have Jay as our brand ambassador in no time.” Jungwon answered with full confidence and you didn’t object further. He knew what he was doing and with your silent approval, that’ll be enough for him to get his phone and reach out to Jay’s manager.
You nodded, a quick glance from Heeseung who only eyed Jungwon.
“Then give me an update within the week.” you settled and Jungwon seemed satisfied with your answer.
The meeting ended immediately. No further concerns were addressed to you. The whole day passed by in a blur. Meetings and shortcomings that were adjourned immediately like a piece of cake. The day felt like your typical day in your life as a cosmetic brand’s owner.
Everything feels fine but you noticed it. The quiet and reserved mood of your boyfriend. He was quiet after the meeting. Formal and distant that it confused you all of the sudden.
“Mr. Lee, please come to my office now,” you ordered. It was three in the afternoon, and you’re not going to wait until five. It’s eating you alive. Heeseung’s the type to keep his concerns all by himself and you didn’t want his worries to be bottled up in his mind.
“Yes, Ms. l/n, is there anything that you want?” he asked using his formal tone. He stood tall in front of you. Hands clasped behind his back, patient as he waits for your words.
“You’ve been quiet since the meeting, is there something wrong about it? You can tell me,” you told him immediately.
Heeseung stared at you for a second. He looked like he’s pondering whether to lie or not. But you knew your lover, you’d be able to catch even the smallest white lie that would slip out of his mouth. That’s why you gave him an assuring smile and you witnessed how his shoulder relaxed.
“Do you really want it? A new ambassador, and releasing an old collection?” he asked. “You’re doing fine now with your makeup collection, why venture out further?”
“Why not Hee? It’s the perfect timing, you see how in demand the toner at the moment, we should be able to get that momentum immediately especially when Stealer’s Jay made it trend too,” you answered immediately before raising an eyebrow. “Unless you don’t trust my choices.”
“Of course not, and I am sorry if I crossed the line with my words,” he immediately replied and it made your forehead creased. The Heeseung you’re talking to right now is your assistant, not your lover.
You stood up from your chair, walking towards him who remained from his place. As you come face to face with him, just a few inches close to each other, your eyes are locked on him.
This distance felt wrong. You two aren’t allowed at this distance especially when at any moment, someone might walk into your office.
But you were concerned about Heeseung, a thin line forming on your lips as you tried to search for his gaze. “Is this about having a male ambassador?”
“Would it be stupid if I said yes?” he answered and you only smiled. Your hands find their way towards his neck tie, proper and clean, and yet you acted like you fixed it.
“He’s just a brand ambassador, we had tons of male ambassadors before, this is not the first time Heeseung.” you assured.
He was quiet for a minute before he said, “just a bad hunch about this.”
“Bad hunch? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know either,” he simply stated. “But my guts are telling me something.”
You chuckled at his words. “Maybe you’re just hungry Mr. Lee, why don’t you go out and buy us some instant ramen at the family mart? I’m kinda craving it too.”
But Heeseung didn’t move. He only stared at you which made you flinch, his eyes told you that he's not joking, and you immediately understood it.
“You don’t have to worry, love,” you swore to him. “This is simply just work.”
“I know,” he replied. “I just, everything feels funny to me right now. Maybe you’re right, maybe I’m just hungry.”
Guilt hovered over you as his words were a sigh of defeat. Before Heeseung could turn his back, you grabbed him by his sleeves. He was surprised by your actions but everything faded when you gave him a smile.
“This is nothing Heeseung, you know that my heart belongs to you,” you told him.
“I know, and I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”
“I like it sometimes, when I worry about you,” you smiled. “Relationships should be equal after all.”
Heeseung only nodded, your heart became calm as you noticed that he seemed satisfied with your conversation.
“We’ll be okay Heeseung,” you said using your softest tone. “Okay?”
His shoulders relaxed. Eyes locked on you as he held your hands, squeezing it for a second before letting go.
“Always,” he answered and that assured you.
A soft gesture. An exchange of words that you two stole from the movie, “The fault in our stars.” Heeseung thought that the ‘okay’ was too cliche, while you, on the other hand, think that ‘always’ was too absurd. In the end, it became a corny thing for the two of you to say to assure each other. Something more meaningful than “I love you,” because you two only knew what it meant.
And for the following years the two of you had been together, those words became constant. A gentle reminder that you love each other unconditionally.
-
Park Jongseong was brooding and charismatic. At the age of thirty-one, he’s one of the prominent stars in the k-industry. Main vocal and leader of Stealer — a three-member male group, they have been dominating the charts and general public ever since they debuted. Never fading, never out-trended by their younger juniors.
In less than a week, Jongseong’s label agreed to the endorsement deal. The following week, he’s in your company building, for the contract signing and first photoshoot of the collection.
Everyone gushed at him. How can they not? Park Jongseong was not only charismatic, he was also charming and a gentleman. Soft-spoken yet humorous to begin with. He had managed to swoon everyone inside the room with just his mere presence and aura.
Most of all, he had managed to capture your attention. You welcomed him with a warm handshake and smile, his expression immediately light-up the moment he saw you. The two of you conversed during the contract signing and his gentle demeanor made you put your trust in him within a few minutes of getting to know him.
“I am serious Ms. l/n, your products saved my life,” he said with much sincerity which made you smile wider.
“Same goes to you Mr. Park, suddenly, there’s a boost in our sales and demands. I am honored that you agreed to be our ambassador.” you replied, not noticing how Jongseong’s smile became wider as he looked at you.
“I am honored too, to be chosen as an ambassador from a gorgeous woman like you.”
The compliment caught you off-guard. The soft squeals and teasings from your employees could be heard but you only laughed it off before you asked one employee to guide Jongseong towards the makeup room. The teasing never stopped and yet, you ignored it as you proceeded to talk to Jungwon about other details.
The atmosphere during the shoot was light. Everyone was in a good mood. Music filled the place as Jay struck a pose professionally in front of the camera. He looked clean with subtle makeup, holding the product in his hand as he gazed at the camera. He was mesmerizing to say, compliments echoed inside the room, boosting his confidence further.
You were monitoring behind the screen. Arms crossed as your face observed Jay’s professionalism. He’s easy to work with. A natural that even if he just stood there, he’d be able to sell the product. He was able to give his own insights, making the photoshoot quick and laid-back.
“This is perfect,” you mumbled. A proud smile on your face as you stare at Jay.
“I told you, I got you boss,” Jungwon proudly answered and you only pat the younger’s shoulders as an act of gratitude.
“Thank you,” you heaved out a sigh. You couldn’t believe it. Your collection would be given another chance. Everything wouldn’t happen if it wasn’t for Jungwon’s idea. The thought had made your heart swell in pride. You have achieved another goal. You were able to venture outside your makeup products and everything is going smoothly given that you had scored a famous idol as your endorser.
The shoot finished late at night. Everyone was tired yet warmly congratulated everyone for a successful wrap. Jay had approached you and you only gave him a smile as you accepted his hands. Congratulations and words of gratitude started off the conversation until the two of you ventured out, going from one topic to another.
Everyone seems to have gushed at the two of you, but you chose to laugh it off. Remaining at a safe distance with the idol who seems eager to get to know you.
You didn’t even notice that Heeseung has been staring at you for way too long. He was by the corner, helping everyone clean up the studio because he tries — tries hard not to show how it annoys him that you’re talking with Jay.
Heeseung shouldn’t worry…right?
Because he chose to love you in secret. He chose to ask you to keep your relationship private even though there’s a deep yearning for you to tell the public about your relationship. He chose this life and he should owe up to his decision.
Heeseung trusts you too. That’s why he shouldn’t worry about how your laugh was too loud at Jongseong’s jokes — and how the whole room seemed to be amused by your chemistry with him.
He shouldn’t worry. Definitely not.
“Let’s go?” you approached, making his thoughts disappear.
The shoot ended hours ago. It was past one am and everyone had left the studio inside the office. The only people remaining inside the office were you and Heeseung.
Heeseung shouldn’t worry at all. Not when he’s the one you go home with. You seem to be in a good mood that he only resorted to giving you a small smile before grabbing your stuff and leading you towards the elevator.
Your routine never changed. The distance is still apart and yet Heeseung didn’t miss the way you kept on glancing at him, like you were itching to tell him something.
“I missed you,” you spoke to him the moment you two had reached your place. It should’ve assured him, especially when you clinged to him like a koala. Your arms wrapped around his while you pressed your cheeks on his side. You looked cute and soft, and you only act like this around him.
That shouldn’t lessen his worries. You’re still the same girl who he loved since high school after all. Nothing has changed.
Especially when you two ended up in bed. Naked, sweaty, and high from the euphoric bliss that only the two of you could enjoy. After the assuring kisses and words, you lay on his chest, hearing the soft heartbeat as it rises softly against the warm moment you two just did.
Perhaps, that should settle his worry. Heeseung’s arms held onto you even tighter, caressing your skin unknowingly, finding comfort that you’re here with him — not with Jongseong, not with anyone. Him.
“Love,” you called out, snapping Heeseung out of his thoughts.
“Yeah? Do you need something?” he asked immediately.
You stared at him for a minute, like you were analyzing his expression. That scared Heeseung for a moment. Afraid that he was too obvious about his worries.
But you only gave him a tender smile before tapping his nose.
“We’re okay right?” you asked and that simply made him sigh with relief.
He gave you a smile, strong hands brushing your hair delicately, “always, my love.”
In the end, he shouldn’t be worrying too much. Especially when you could assure him without having Heeseung to open up his worries.
-
Jongseong’s ambassadorship was a hit.
Your sales rocketed. Stocks are in demand and it wasn’t only a domestic hit — international demands were also quick to rise. Expansions of global stores outside South Korea are in talks, and it just processed into you how big of an impact Jongseong’s ambassadorship was to your brand.
You were grateful for him. Sending him flowers and gifts during their domestic concert. Personally, he expressed his gratitude to you and you were just glad that you made the right call to accept him as your brand’s ambassador.
Aside from that, everything was still in the water. You were still preparing for your new launches aside from the night sky collection. Everyday felt like a constant rush, but in a good way for you. Your brand has become consistent in the industry, and you wanted to keep it that way.
Of course, your relationship with Heeseung still remained serene. Private and intimate, just like it has always been. The constant routine never bore the two of you too, and somewhere, with all the busy demands you had at the moment, all you could think of was going home just to be with your lover.
You missed him. Which is funny given that you two see each other everyday. But it’s different when you call him “love” or when his touch lingers on your skin. You wanted more of it. Was it too much to ask? You wondered one day.
“Heeseung, can we go to the mall? I just want to check our store there and I want to buy something for a special someone” you asked Heeseung one Friday morning.
Your meeting just ended, and Jungwon reminded you about your newly-opened store at the brand-new mall in the shopping district. You wanted to check an update on it especially when Jay’s still currently on trend right.
It was a perfect opportunity for you to also buy a gift to Mrs. Lee. Her birthday’s fast approaching and Heeseung had rented a beach villa for the celebration. Aside from that, you also wanted to spend more time with your boyfriend, alone. It’s like hitting a lot of birds with one stone.
“Of course Miss l/n, should we head there right now?” he asked and you nodded as an answer.
The two of you left the office around lunch time. No one batted an eye at the scene. Even at the mall, no one questioned the two of you. Heeseung has always kept a distance from you. Like a puppy trailing to its owner, except well, your puppy is a six-foot tall man in his formal suit.
You went to your store first. Checking the sales and talking to the store manager who accommodated you warmly. You two shared a couple of updates while Heeseung wandered around the store. Seeing Jay’s face plastered at every corner, his lips could only form a thin line — not wanting jealousy to incite him during a field work.
“Everything’s doing fine here,” you said with glee before approaching Heeseung. “Jay’s photocard is currently sold out. It was a great deal to have his photocard as a freebie for the collection. I have to remind Jungwon that we need to restock it — and probably have it reprint again, since it is selling fast.”
“He’s a good ambassador, he’s great at promoting it too,” Heeseung commented yet his voice remained neutral. “He also has the face.”
You laughed at your boyfriend’s words. “You know love, you also have the face. If only, you could be our brand’s model.”
He only laughed, “I’d like to keep my beauty reserved for your eyes only.”
“You’re so corny.” you stuck out your tongue on him before pulling his arms, wrapping around it dearly as you pulled him away from the store. “Come on now, let’s go shopping while we’re here.”
Heeseung removed your hold from his. You were surprised but he gestured to you to walk first. Your frown became invisible.
“There’s nothing to worry about love,” you convinced.
“Please, we’re still outside, Miss l/n,” he said with an authoritative tone and that made you flinch.
Of course. Even in public, the two of you couldn’t act as a couple. Your face and name is pretty known. Rumors could stir up and that’s the last thing that Heeseung wanted you two to get involved in.
And yet, it couldn’t help when a bitter smile left your lips, “alright.”
You walked in silence while Heeseung trailed behind you. A deep sigh escaping your lips as you have your boyfriend around but not on your side. You wonder when will the two of you even have the chance to walk together, do PDA or maybe holding hands like normal couples would do.
All your thoughts faded when your eyes landed at a watch outlet. You decided to go inside to take a look into the products. Eyes darting at the smartwatch, you remembered Heeseung suddenly and his old smartwatch. The one he bought using his first salary. Now it’s hidden somewhere in his drawers, useless.
“What would you prefer?” you asked when you felt Heeseung’s presence nearby. “I think the deep red is your style, but it’s too eye-catching right? Maybe the army green would be nicer.”
“There’s no need to buy unnecessary things Miss l/n,” Heeseung answered and you glared at him.
“It’s for you, love,” you said, dictating the last word, making him raise an eyebrow at you.
“Y/n, for the love of god, we’re in public,” he said with a serious tone and you only stared at him for a good moment before darting back to the watches.
“Can I have this in army green? Thank you,” you asked the shop assistant who immediately left to get your order.
The two of you stood there in silence, waiting for the assistant to return, you impatiently tapped your heel as you turned around to your lover with your arms crossed.
“You worry too much,” you told him.
“Everyone knows you,” he replied. “I am just being careful.”
You wanted to ask him. What’s wrong if the two of you get caught in some rumors? It's not scandalous at all given you two have been dating for too long — nothing’s wrong with your relationship at all. Heeseung just wanted to keep it private and nothing more.
But this is private. No press nor reporters. Just a couple doing a couple things. What’s wrong with it? It’s not like you’re that famous. Sure, some people may recognize you but it’s not to the extent of an idol’s popularity.
That’s why you wonder, why couldn’t the two of you be lovers in public?
The shop assistant returned with the box a few minutes later. After checking the product, you bought it without sparing at the price. Giving it to Heeseung who accepted it in a blink.
“It’s for you, if you’re planning to return it to me, I am buying you another three of the same colors,” you said sternly at him.
“My watch is doing fine,” he said, glancing at the silver vintage watch his father left for him.
“I know, but use it how you want it. For your exercise or playing basketball — it’s for convenience love,” you told him.
“Thank you, Miss l/n.” he spoke formally and you visibly rolled your eyes at the name.
“Just call me by my name, please,” you told him and he didn’t say a word.
The two of you wandered around the area longer than you expected. You couldn’t find a proper gift for Heeseung’s mother and you were slowly becoming impatient. It didn’t help that your lover isn’t in the mood to indulge in your schemes too. You wanted him to move freely and yet, he kept professional. Maintaining his job as your bodyguard.
The two of you ended up at a coffee shop nearby just to fuel your energy. The sun is almost setting and you had probably went to every store and had bought things that aren’t your gift for Mrs. Lee. Your frown was invisible and your feet were tired — not even the sweet cream soda could save your mood.
You stared at Heeseung who’s taking a sip of his coffee. Your eyes returned to the coffee shop and how mostly couples are inside. The two of you blended so perfectly around them.
So this is what going out with your boyfriend feels like. It’s been so long since you and Heeseung had a date in public. Always indoors or if not, private rooms in expensive restaurants. This one felt normal — nostalgic like you two are back in your younger self.
But it was too far from your expectations. Not when Heeseung talked to you like you’re his boss — which is true in some ways, but you hated how he takes your private relationship too seriously.
“Should we go now?” Heeseung asked a few minutes later, and you nodded. Too tired to deal with his attitude, you just decided to focus on finding a gift for his mother.
Fortunately, you ended up at a kitchenware store and remembered that Mrs. Lee had enrolled in baking lessons, so you decided to give her those expensive ceramic sets with different colors.
“What do you think? Would she love this?” you asked Heeseung, glancing at the different displays before deciding to pick the sapphire blue set.
“I think your presence is enough for her,” he commented and you smiled bitterly.
“If only I could, but Jungwon had set it up as a wrapped-up dinner for Jay’s ambassadorship, I couldn’t say no to him since most of our staff had agreed to come.” you told him and his expression changed.
It was a sudden announcement. You weren’t able to say no since it was also the only time Jay’s free. Unfortunately, it landed on the same date as Mrs. Lee’s birthday celebration, leaving you no choice.
Heeseung nodded, “right, I forgot about that. I’m sorry, I couldn’t come.”
“It’s okay, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to auntie’s party,” you told him apologetically.
“You know, you could always ditch the party and come with me,” Heeseung joked and instead of laughing, it only broke your heart more.
“I’ll make up next time, okay? I couldn’t leave my staff too,” you insisted and that made Heeseung exhale sharply. He never thought that you two were going to have this conversation inside a kitchenware store.
“I’m not mad, I understand, but sometimes you have to put yourself first alright? If this is what you want, just go with it, and not because everyone expects you to be there.” he pointed out.
“Everyone’s expecting me to be there.”
“You’re such people pleaser, but y/n, sometimes it’ll just put you in a helpless situation.” Heeseung advised.
“I know love, I’m sorry, I’ll try next time,” you apologized. “It’s a good thing that you’re there for me, what would I do without you?”
“You’re a smart girl y/n, you can do things without me too,” he smiled and that comforted you in a split second.
“I don’t know, maybe I’m too dependent on you,” you teased, making Heeseung chuckle.
“Someday, you’d learn that you’re still the independent girl whom I loved,” he professed and that thought only made your heart skip a beat.
The two of you went home straight after a long day in the district. It was night time when the two of you had arrived at your place. You slumped down everything you bought on the couch while your gift remained in Heeseung's car.
That’s when you remembered, Heeseung’s going to leave in a few hours since he’s going to drive his way back to his hometown. It felt bitter to you since it’s also been so long since you went home. This was your only opportunity and yet, change of plans happened. It was a shame that couldn’t come but you promised Heeseung that you’ll make up with them when you’re not busy anymore..
“Don’t forget to send me updates alright?” Heeseung asked.
You smiled at him, giving him a quick kiss. “Of course love. Enjoy the party — oh! And tell auntie happy birthday, I’ll visit her soon.”
Heeseung nodded at your words before giving you another kiss. With one last glance, he went to his car and drove away from the apartment.
-
The beach villa was filled with bright noises and laughter.
Heeseung’s mother just turned sixty. Her face was still warm and hopeful as she made a wish before blowing the candles on the cake that her beloved youngest son was holding. Mrs. Lee smiled as she looked at Heeseung who had prepared everything despite his busy job in Seoul.
“What did you wish for grandma?” one of her grandchildren asked, and the old lady chuckled.
“Oh, just for my kid’s happiness and good health,” she answered softly. “And to have grandchildren from Seungie.”
“Mom, why would you say that?” Heeseung asked with a nervous chuckle, earning teases from the crowd.
“Well, you and y/n have been together for years! Goodness, when are you going to marry her?” an aunt asked and Heeseung brushed it off.
“At the right time,” he answered confidently.
“When will be the right time? Look at your mom, she’s aging now!” another one commented, erupting the whole room into laughter.
“Time is ticking Seungie,” Mrs. Lee teased before her smile turned small. “I do wish y/n is here with us.”
“Right, where is she by the way?” a relative asked.
“She’s busy, she wanted to come but they’re busy preparing for a collection launch, her employees are holding her back,” Heeseung explained, shrugging at the thought that you’re probably preparing for the company dinner.
“She’s always so focused on her career, it’s rare to find a girl that’s passionate about the things she wants,” Mrs. Lee added, giving her youngest son a smile and pat on the back.
Ever since Heeseung introduced you to his family, his mother had doted on you like her own daughter. You, on the other hand, saw her like your second mother. The one who’d spoil you rotten with food and love aside from the love you receive from your biological one. You never missed her birthday ever since you dated Heeseung. Today was a rare case, but Mrs. Lee brushed it off, knowing how busy your career is.
It was hard for you to be absent on her birthday. Your family was present there — almost everyone was present except for you. Your gift lay rest among the rest, and you knew that it wasn’t enough to make it up to her.
But the celebration continued. Soft music filled the living room, the elders were in their own world. Gossiping, playing cards, and talking about retirement plans while the youngsters took over the outdoor pool and beach outside. The sun was barely setting and everyone was in the middle of the fun.
Soon, beers and liquors were added to the party as night arrived. Heeseung was holding a bottle of beer, half-full and a shield for his uncles and male relatives who encouraged him to drink more. He managed to escape them, hanging out with his other relatives who are in the dining area, eating the cold leftovers.
Heeseung was looking at his phone most of the time. Sending you updates and photos of the party. Messages like, “they kept asking where you are, wish you were here.” and “It’s not been a day where I’m not with you and I miss you already.” were sent to you. It made him wonder what you are doing right now and how the company dinner is doing.
It was past midnight when the party ended. The elders went to their respective room to rest, while some are still up for late-night drinking and swimming. Heeseung busied himself with cleaning up the dining area. Putting the food in the fridge and cleaning the dishes, feeling exhausted but still contended especially whenever he remembers his mother’s smile and excitement at her birthday party.
“Heeseung hyung,” Heeseung turned around to see his younger relatives, gathered with a worried expression.
“Is this the reason why y/n noona’s not here?” one of them asked before handing Heeseung his phone.
Stealer’s Jay rumored to be dating y/n l/n, CEO of Mayumi Beauty following his ambassadorship with the brand.
It was enough for Heeseung to be nailed from where he was standing. His expression shifted into a shocked one as his hand tightened on the phone, staring at the photo of you and Jay. Leaving the restaurant, together, laughing — it looked convincing to the public.
The two of you were in your own world, not caring about hiding each other’s identity. Jay was looking at you with a gleam in his eyes, while you were smiling. It was a reckless act that will definitely ruin each other’s reputation. But if you’re not afraid to tell the world that you’re dating someone as perfect as Park Jongseong, then it shouldn’t be a reckless act at all.
“Uncle? Are you okay?” his niece asked, snapping him away from his thoughts.
“Is this true hyung? Is y/n noona cheating on you?” another cousin asked.
Cheating on him — you wouldn’t. You’re not the type to cheat on a relationship. Not when you’re dependent on him, especially when your conflicts with your relationship weren’t always about third parties and —
It felt like a bucket of ice water washed over him.
This is probably the first time that a person might be the problem in your relationship. And he’s not just any person. He’s Park Jongseong. The nation’s gentleman. Perfect. Charming. A lady’s man. Someone who’s open to his feelings about you in public — the only thing Heeseung couldn’t do.
Heeseung’s heart skipped a beat. A curse escaped his lip as he looked at his younger relatives before giving back his cousin’s phone.
“Excuse me,” it was the only thing he said before he exited the kitchen.
Heeseung found himself by the seaside. The soft crash of waves hummed in the dead of the night. He looked into his social media and all he could see was you and Jay. The two of you are currently trending right now. He skimmed through all the comments, mixtures of bad and positive comments filled the forum and comment sections.
Some are mad, some are confused, while others are supportive. Heeseung doesn’t know what to feel. All he could feel was how his stomach was churning. All the food he had eaten today was rising up to his chest, and he’s fighting the urge to vomit it all out as he pressed your caller id and placed it on his ears.
Heeseung was praying internally. Hoping you’d pick up the phone. He wished you would pick up the phone, explain to you your side because for the duration of the whole day, you’ve been in radio silence.
All his messages were left unread. No updates from you. Not a single message from you and that bothered him the whole day. Whenever the two of you are far away, you two always opted to communicate and update each other as much as you two could. It could be the small things like you just arrived at the restaurant or maybe Jungwon had picked you up and the two of you drove towards the meeting place together.
But he didn’t receive any of it. Not a single message. Heeseung has never felt scared for your relationship up until now.
“Please love, just pick up the call, please,” he whispered to himself as your caller id continued to ring.
“Hello?” Heeseung sighed in relief. Eyes shut as he was about to speak, you immediately cut him off.
“This is Ms. l/n, if you’re hearing this voicemail, she’s busy at the moment, please leave a message and I’d get back to you as soon as possible. Thank you!”
Then came the three seconds of silence before the beep ringed on Heeseung’s ear.
You didn’t pick up the phone. Heeseung’s call went straight to your voicemail — that was when he knew.
“Are you home my love?” he asked, words shaky and breathy as he concealed himself from crying.
Heeseung faced the ocean. The waves crashed down in its tranquility as he engulfed himself with the silence, hoping he’d find strength in his own solace.
“The rumors, they aren’t true…right?” he asked foolishly. Smiling bitterly at how he stupid he sounds right now.
The call beeped once again. His voicemail was sent. Heeseung looked at his phone and his homescreen of you was all he could see — and instead of feeling assured, all he could feel right now was betrayal.
-
The whole building was in a buzz.
Everything was full of chaos. Whispers and murmurs lingered around every cubicle, every desk, and hallway as your photos from last night spread across the country.
Heeseung arrived alone. Clean and sharp just like his usual fit and yet, it completely surprised everyone that he arrived at the building alone.
“I wasn’t able to pick her up, I just came from my hometown and went straight here,” he explained, immediately brushing off the prying eyes and curious expressions from his colleague.
“Ms. l/n had arrived ten minutes earlier, she is a mess right now, would a cup of coffee ease her?” one employee suggested and Heeseung shook his head in response.
“I’ll take care of it,” he said because of course, it’s him. He’s always there to take care of you, to clean every problem you encounter and yet, Heeseung couldn’t bear to enter your office as he arrived at the floor. The door was closed and Heeseung stood there in silence.
He doesn’t know what to do. Should he be professional and ask his boss what she needs, or should he act selfish this time and let you handle everything since he had warned you about Jongseong after all?
“Mr. Lee!” His thoughts trailed off when he saw Jungwon walking towards him. “There you are, the meeting has started, you should be there.”
“Meeting?” he asked and yet, he followed the younger male without hesitation.
“About the rumors of course, we all know that your advice could help us come up with the solution,” Jungwon casually replied. His feet became fast and hasty as they reached the elevator and closed it.
“What even happened last night?” Heeseung asked. “It was a company dinner right?”
“Yes, but almost everyone had left, Jay and y/n stayed,” Jungwon explained. “I don’t know what happened, but Jay dropped her off in her apartment. She sent me an update when she got home, it was around past eleven too.”
Heeseung nodded at the younger’s explanation and yet, it left nothing but a sour taste on lips. He wondered, why did you need to hide everything about that night from him? Shouldn’t relationships be about trusting each other? How could he even trust you when you couldn’t be true to him?
Did you really need to hide the fact that you were with Jay the whole night? Was that really necessary?
The moment Heeseung entered the conference room. You were already there, on your usual middle chair. Hair tied in a low ponytail with lesser makeup. Cold, stressed, and most of all, guilty. Guilty that you’re involved in a dating scandal, with Park Jongseong out of all the people.
Jay was there, on the left side of the table. Casual and chill, like he wasn’t bothered that his fanbases are closing because he got caught in a dating rumor. Heeseung badly wanted to punch that smug grin out of his lips.
But of course he couldn’t. It’ll just surprise everyone in the room. So instead, he sat in an empty chair, three chairs away from you. An odd move that had his colleagues raising their eyebrows since they’re used to Mr. Lee sitting beside you.
“Well, this is a first for everyone, and currently, the public is divided,” Jungwon started, beside him was Choi Soobin, Stealer’s head manager.
“Some are convinced while others…let’s not dive into it because they’re kinda crazy about Jongseong.” Soobin explained before heaving out a sigh. “Jongseong had explained everything to me. It was a company dinner. Everyone had drinks and got pretty drunk at some point. Everyone was having fun like a typical company dinner and then one by one, everyone started to leave, until it was just the two of you. Care to explain further?”
“We just talked the whole night,” Jay explained. “We didn’t notice the time, not until you called and we called it a night. We left and I dropped her off at her place before going back to my apartment.”
“That’s all?” he asked once again and Jay looked at you apologetically. His smile looked sorry but Heeseung wasn’t convinced.
“It’s my fault that we didn’t wear any cap or mask, I’m sorry y/n,” he said softly.
“It’s okay, we didn’t know that photographers were there,” you immediately replied, giving him an assuring smile as your shoulders slacked.
Heeseung scoffed under his breath and yet it was only you who noticed it. You watched how Heeseung’s glare at Jongseong darkened. The grip on his pen tightened and you knew that he was just holding himself back — and you have never felt more guilty than before.
“Lame excuse Jay, you should’ve been more careful, and now, you have involved Miss l/n in this situation,” Soobin waved as he looked at everyone inside the room.
“No, it’s not Jongseong’s fault, I should’ve been careful too,” you insisted. “I knew he was a famous idol, and yet, it didn’t sink into my mind that thought too. I should’ve been more careful too.”
You admitted your fault. Heeseung nodded to your words, avoiding your pleading eyes as he shifted his attention on the empty table.
“Since it’s both of your fault, it is also your choice whether you want to face the consequences or not, this is a rare thing to happen but with Jay’s reputation on the line, we wanted to keep his image good and clean” Soobin stated.
“You could confirm the relationship with Jay but for PR purposes.” Jungwon proposed, staring at you. “There’s no need to be out of the public the whole time but the two of you will be linked no matter what. It is up to you if you wanted to act in public, but confirming the dating rumor would still benefit the two of you.”
“How? This is Stealer’s Jay we’re talking about. What about his crazy fans? Ms. l/n will be the target of harsh comments. This might also affect our sales big time?” one employee asked which the others agreed.
“Isn’t it bad for Ms. l/n image? She’s the CEO, he’s her brand’s ambassador, some may think that there’s a power imbalance between the two of them.” another one pointed out.
“I understand your sentiments, this is why we held this meeting, so that we’d be able to see the advantages and disadvantages of the PR relationship. Please remember that this is for two years, if you ever agree Ms. l/n.” Jungwon added.
“Isn’t two years too long?” you asked.
“Most celebrity couples nowadays wanted to convince the public that what they had was real, two years is believable,” Soobin explained.
“Jay’s fine with it, we just want to hear from you Ms. l/n, are you willing to be in a PR relationship with Jay?” Soobin added and your heartbeat stopped.
“This may have pros and cons, think about it Ms. l/n, but you know, who wouldn’t dare to reject the nation’s gentleman, am I right?” Jungwon teased, and some agreed while others chuckled at Jungwon’s comment.
“Right, I mean, there’s nothing wrong right? Ms. l/n’s single and she seems comfortable around Jay, who knows, this PR relationship might become real.” another one added.
Heeseung watched as your smile became fake and small. He knows that you’re under pressure right now. Everyone was pitching in their opinions and it was obvious — they wanted you to accept the proposal.
“I mean…is our sale doing fine right now? I am scared that they might boycott it due to the rumors,” you said softly.
“Good news is, our sales are stable at the moment,” Jungwon shared. “We still don’t know if it’ll drop the moment you two confirm the rumors, but publicity, whether good or bad, is still publicity right?”
You nodded, convinced as you only brushed your shoulders. “Right…if it’s helping our brand, I don’t see the problem with it.”
Heeseung could see how you seemed determined to agree with the proposal now that Jungwon had put your company on the line. He hated how you were only agreeing because the majority wanted you two.
He trusted you. You were his smart girl after all. You know what you’re doing is right, and probably for the best — but at the same time. Was your company all you value at all?
“Mr. Lee,” Jungwon called out, making Heeseung glance at the former. “Is there anything you wanted to say? Everyone had chipped in their opinions about the solution.”
Heeseung became quiet for a minute. The whole room shifted into a tense atmosphere as everyone’s eyes were on Heeseung, who looked you coldly in the eye and you were surprised by his stare.
There’s a faint nervous beat in your heart as he looks at the other employees. A nod as he said his thoughts.
“I think we’re just wasting our time here,” he commented sternly. “It’s up to Ms. l/n if she wants to do the PR relationship. Whatever she and Mr. Park had, we shouldn’t interfere anymore since we’re just her employees and what happened last night was part of her private life. Our sales are doing good at the moment right? Then let's just leave Ms. l/n decide on this one.”
Some agreed immediately, while others were surprised by Heeseung’s answer. You were nailed at your place as Heeseung stared at you for a moment, and you could see it. He wasn’t just disappointed at you — he was deeply hurt by your actions.
The rest of the meeting continued. Opinions circulated further while you sat there and sinked into your chair. Not caring about what Jungwon and Soobin are talking about in front. You just wanted to go home and rest, and not just rest, but to rest in your lover’s arms.
In the end, there was no final conclusion to your rumor. You weren’t able to come up with the final decision, not when Heeseung’s words lingered in your mind.
They only released a statement wherein both companies are going to look into it. Hopefully, you’d be able to come up with a decision by tomorrow — everyone was hopeful you’d say yes, and yet, the thought of Heeseung walking out of the conference room immediately after the meeting was adjourned haunted you.
You were completely quiet for the rest of the day, and so was Heeseung. It was a suffocating eeriness of silence, and you didn’t like it at all. You didn’t like how he acted like you were a ghost. He passed by you, completely ignoring you, and you knew that it was entirely your fault. Everything was your fault and yet, it still hurts that Heeseung treated you coldly.
“Hee, what was that?” you asked.
It’s six in the evening. The building’s quiet, leaving you and Heeseung alone. You thought he’d go home sharp at five — thankfully he didn’t. That’s why you were able to corner him.
“What do you mean ‘what was that?’ ms. l/n, I am just giving my opinion regarding the suggestion,” he said with a serious tone that your forehead creased.
“It’s past five Hee, drop the act.” you ordered.
Heeseung raised an eyebrow, “suddenly you wanted your boyfriend right now?”
“I needed my boyfriend earlier — why? Why would you say that? Do you really want me to enter a PR relationship?”
“Well, do you?” he challenged. Tongue sharp as his eyes glared at you. “Because if you don’t want it, then what’s holding you back to reject the proposal? I assumed it wasn’t me given how cozy you and Jongseong were at that damn company dinner.”
“Love, it’s not what it looks like.” you convinced.
“Then explain to me, why were you with him the whole night? Knowing full-well that I am wary of him and there’s already a lot of inside rumors about the two of you. Let me guess, for the sales and boost of your brand then?”
“It was a company dinner Heeseung.” you repeated.
“Let’s add more to that. You were on radio silence the whole day, I kept you updated while I went straight to your voicemail, what happened to keeping each other updated over everything? Was that night so fun that you had forgotten that you had a boyfriend?” Heeseung pointed out.
You became quiet. Your stare lingered at your boyfriend who looked at you with disappointment — and it kills you that you couldn’t come up with an answer.
“Heeseung, it’s rude to be on my phone while having dinner with them.”
“Can’t even spare a minute for me? Was Jongseong so entertaining that you couldn’t even open your phone?” he mocked, and you could hear it. How his voice shook as he said his name.
“Heeseung, he’s my brand ambassador, I just want to make sure that he feels supported and welcomed.” you insisted.
Heeseung chuckled in disbelief, “that’s your excuse? y/n you’re a smart girl, don’t you fucking see that he’s hitting up on you!? From the very start, he likes you and has been hitting on you, and you’re enjoying every fucking second of it that it makes me sick standing in the corner watching you two flirt with each other.”
“We were not flirting Heeseung, I was just being nice —”
“It’s different with Jongseong y/n, it’s different and I don’t know why you couldn’t see it.” he objected.
“This wouldn’t have happened if we just publicized our relationship, Heeseung.” you rebutted.
Heeseung stared at you for a good minute, before another chuckle in disbelief escaped his lips. You watched as he groaned as a complaint before shifting his stare at you.
“We were fine with our relationship being in private. We were always fine, but suddenly a guy our age came and I don’t know, he showered you with affection in public and maybe you loved the attention he was giving you in front of everyone.” he accused and every word he said stabbed daggers in your heart.
“You know that’s not true Heeseung, I am doing this for my company’s image.” you defended.
But Heeseung remained unfazed, he stared at you coldly, unconvinced by your reason. “This isn’t about your business anymore. It’s about your private life, which is irrelevant with your brand. Do you really want to be stuck in a PR relationship with him for two years? Two. Fucking. Years. Even if it’s for the best of your brand?”
“If it means saving my image and company, I’d do it.” you said without any hesitation. “I built this company from scratch, Heeseung, and I am going to do everything for it. Everything.”
“Even if it means agreeing to the PR stunt?” he challenged.
“If I had to, I have to,” you said sharply.
“But can you?” he asked and you stopped. “Can you really throw out our relationship for your company? Love Jongseong more than you love me?”
“That’s your issue?” you asked in disbelief. “If you’re man enough, you’d understand that I have to do this.”
“If you value our relationship, you’d understand why I am acting like this,” he rebutted.
“I value our relationship, Heeseung, but I value my company too. You were there from the very start. You knew what I went through just to be here —”
“And your success right now is not enough for you because you’re hungry for more, you want more and maybe that PR stunt could give it to you.” he cuts off. Bitter words throwing daggers at you.
“Maybe it could, because it’s something you couldn’t give me.” you coldly replied and he merely chuckled.
“So I guess I am right. This is about me now. About me asking you one thing. One damn thing and that’s to keep our relationship a secret.” he concluded.
“Yes! Because why? Why should our love be a secret!?” you shouted, all your frustrations about your private relationship finally bursted out.
“I just want my life to be normal! I’m not like you who wanted fame and fortune. I just want you and nothing more, is it selfish that that’s the only thing that I wanted!?” he shouted back, causing you to flinch. Eyes wide at the sight of an angry Heeseung who has always been calm and soft-spoken.
You’d never thought that you’d push his buttons — to break him out of his gentle demeanor. He must’ve been so angry about everything that he had to raise his voice just to prove his point.
“I am yours Heeseung, I will always be,” you assured. “But you have to accept that you’re not dating the same girl from high school. I am a CEO now, I own a company and I have a reputation to hold and protect. If you couldn’t accept that, maybe —”
“Maybe what?” he taunted. “You think I am insecure that you’re successful while I am nothing but just a mere assistant of yours? You think so low of me.”
“No, you just have to accept that I am not yours completely, that I have other priorities other than you.” you stated.
Heeseung’s eyes never faltered. He looks at you for a good minute, calculating, observing as your words cut deep into his mind.
“Fine,” he accepted and you became confused.
“What do you mean —”
“I forgot, you’re the boss here. Oh well, you’re a smart girl y/n. Whatever your decision will be, it’s for the best, right?” Heeseung stated mockingly.
“Heeseung —”
“Go, accept the PR stunt. Date Jongseong or whatever, I am not going to hold you back anymore if it means reaching your dreams and goals for this company,” he said so softly yet his eyes were angry at you.
That’s when your forehead creased further. “What the fuck are you talking about Heeseung?”
“This is the last time I’m going to repeat myself to you” he spoke before heaving a sigh. Tired and weary from the argument you two had. “I am not going to dictate everything to you anymore because clearly, you don’t need me anymore.”
Your eyes widened at his words. Your heart started to pound harder than before, tightening against your chest as your eyes never left Heeseung.
“Are you…breaking up with me?” you carefully asked.
“Maybe I am or maybe I am not, I don’t know y/n, I don’t know,” he answered, eyes landing somewhere else. He’s just as confused as you are. Heeseung doesn’t lie at all. The two of you are in the heat of the argument, everything’s confusing and for the first time — no one wanted to lower their pride.
“But one thing for sure, I am not going to hold your hand in this PR stunt of yours. You think I’d let myself watch you be with another man for the next two years? And do I mention that guy fucking likes you? Might as well call it off.” Heeseung declared and that’s when you felt your world stopped.
“Heeseung, no, please —”
“Do what you want, I am not going to dictate everything to you,” he repeated. “Think about your image, your company and your reputation — don’t ever think about me because clearly, I am just a small part of your life.”
“Small?” you breathed. “I have loved you for more than fifteen years Heeseung, you think you’re just a small part of my life?”
“If that was the case, then why was it hard for you to reject that simple request?” he questioned and you became quiet.
He smiled at you, bitter yet strong. His hands pats your head, for comfort, you assumed and yet it only made you shudder, concealing the tears as his hands brushed your hair before letting go. “Do what’s for the best of your company. I am not going to let everything you built go down to waste.”
“You’re so unfair,” you spoke to him, voice dripping with frustration. “How is it that it’s easy for you to walk away from everything we had?”
“Oh, you think this is easy for me?” he asked in disbelief. “You think it was easy for me? Everyday, you slowly become out of my reach y/n. Even though we go home together, make love, and all the corny shit we always do, your mind is always in other places. Always on your phone, worrying about your company and letting your employees annoy you at ungodly hours — when was the last time have you ever truly decided for yourself?”
“That’s not true,” you disagreed. “I love you Heeseung, I always do. It’s just that —”
“I am not your priority anymore, I know that and we’ll just keep going around in circles here y/n. Let’s just end this conversation.”
“Do you really want this? Do you really want me to go on a public relationship with Jay?” you taunted.
“No, I just want you to become successful in your life,” he said sincerely. “And if this PR stunt would give you that, who am I to hold you back?”
You didn’t say a word. You stood there as Heeseung’s gaze at you was soft. His bambi-like eyes that had you melting in every possible way gaze at you with much love and yet, it only gave you nothing but guilt.
“Don’t forget to turn off the lights before going home okay?” he reminded. “Goodbye Miss l/n.”
His words struck you like lightning. You were frozen in your place as you watched Heeseung turn around from you. Grabbing his bag from his desk chair and before he could reach the elevator, you called out his name, making him stop midway.
“We’ll be okay, right?” you asked, voice shaking as your heart started to race in an uneven manner.
Heeseung looked at you one last time. His lips turned into a thin line as he nodded. “I love you okay? I’m doing this because it’s for the best.”
Those were his last words. Heeseung went towards the elevator and left. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as you tried to process the conversation you and Heeseung had. Confusion gets into you as you try to comfort yourself, concealing yourself from crying because you don’t want to cry — you hated crying after all.
This is for the best. You convinced.
This isn’t the first time you and Heeseung called it off. You reminded yourself.
You went home alone for the first time in years and your house has never been this quiet for so long.
-
The truth is, you and Heeseung had broken up twice.
A long-term relationship has never been a perfect relationship. There were ups and downs. You and Heeseung started young and immature, of course, there will be obstacles. But one thing for sure, your break-ups weren’t because the relationship felt suffocating that the two of you had become toxic for each other, most were just because of the outside factors.
The first time was during college, during your senior year. Your internship was too heavy, courses were becoming too demanding, and you were also working a part-time job because you didn’t want to burden your parents with your allowance and rent.
In addition to that, you and Heeseung were in a long-distance relationship. He stayed in your town and studied at a community college because he had to take care of his bedridden father. Communication becomes less now that two are too busy with their own world — the relationship becomes the least priority.
You cried to him when you told him that you couldn’t continue your relationship anymore. You love Heeseung so much, he means the world to you but you don’t want to keep him around especially when you have a lot of burden at the moment.
The call made Heeseung pale cold and yet, he respected your decision even if it hurt him. He let you go, and promised you that he bore no hard feelings and understood why you needed to let go of your relationship. He wished you all the best in life and that only made you even more guilty of breaking up with him.
But the break-up only made you even worse. Your grades dropped, you’ve been sleeping less and eating one to none meal a day. You quit your part-time job because you were always in a daze during work and it didn’t help that you have shut yourself off from everyone — including your family, and that scared them, afraid of your silence. They asked Heeseung if he could check up on you.
Heeseung agreed in a heartbeat. Even though you and him had broken up, he took a train to Seoul just to check on you. Despite breaking up with him, Heeseung went there with a soft smile and gentle care, and that’s when you realized that you couldn’t live your life without him.
The two of you made up that night. With soft apologies and a warm bowl of instant ramen, the two of you decided to give your relationship a second chance.
The second time was when you were just starting your business.
You didn’t know that starting your own business was this overwhelming. Your manpower’s small and you have to be on-hand with everything. Everything became too much to you that you had ghosted your boyfriend for almost a month.
You asked for a break again, just a simple cool-off to clear your head. Although Heeseung was left in the dark especially when you weren’t answering his calls and texts for almost a month, he had seen it coming.
But instead of letting you go, Heeseung took the earliest train the next day and showed up at the footsteps of your apartment early in the morning — completely shocking you.
Heeseung decided to stay there for good. He helped you with your business, carrying your burdens and lifting all the worries off your shoulder with patience and love.
Now. This is the third time you two called it off and this time, it was Heeseung who asked for a break, and that scared you.
You knew you pushed too far. You knew that your reasons were illogical and you just don’t know why you were hesitant to reject the PR stunt. Heeseung’s words continued to haunt you. Were you really too focused with your business that you had slowly drifted apart from him? Perhaps, and you were a little too late to realize it.
Then enter Jongseong. But Jongseong’s probably just the tip of the iceberg. He might have triggered Heeseung’s insecurities too. A man who can love you in public. It was something Heeseung couldn’t do to you. He was content to love you from afar and in private, and you, you should’ve been content with it, because he’s the only one who could love you in your lowest, most raw moment.
But maybe, in the deepest, most corner part of your heart, you yearn to tell the public that you’re happily in love with the guy who you had been loving since you were sixteen. If only your relationship’s known in public, this chaos would’ve been solved. Still, you remained quiet, respecting your lover’s only wish about your relationship.
If only you had paid attention to him too, then maybe, he would have been by your side by now.
“Mr. Lee’s on leave?” you raised your head in a split second, glancing at Jungwon who’s holding Heeseung’s file of leave.
“Did he say how long?” you asked as your heart started to pound harder than before. The last time you saw Heeseung was Friday, three days after you two had that argument and ever since Saturday, he has been on radio silence.
“He didn’t but he has a lot of leave so he could actually leave for a whole year,” the younger male joked before he placed down the paper on your desk and you only stared at it. “This is the first time he filed a leave right? But are you going to be okay? You’re pretty dependent on him too, do you want me to find someone who’d be your assistant for the res—”
“It’s fine, I’ll be fine Jungwon, there’s no need,” you immediately replied. Smiling at Jungwon who only stared at you.
“You seem stressed,” he observed.
“Well, with all that’s been happening, how could I not?” you laughed.
“Jongseong’s manager had called,” Jungwon shared. “They’re asking for an update. You know the rumors are kind of dissolving at the moment but most of his fans aren’t letting it go.”
“Our sales?” you asked instead.
“Still going strong though, the wishlist collection’s currently sold out and the stocks are still in demand. They wonder if you’re going to release another collection featuring Jongseong despite the rumors speculating, everyone thinks that it was just a mere coincidence given that it was a company dinner.” he explained.
“Good, that’s good,” you nodded yet you felt unsatisfied with his answer. “I still don’t have a concrete answer about the stunt Jungwon, don’t you think two years is too long?”
“It is, but it’s what they proposed to us,” he explained. “I tried asking for a year or months, but I don’t know why they’re demanding two.”
“That’s too long.” you commented.
“I know, and they’re eager to know your decision, I don’t want to pressure you but time’s ticking boss,” Jungwon said with a pitied tone.
You only gave him a nod, “I know, thank you Won, could you leave me for a moment?”
Jungwon complied with your request. You watched as he walked towards the door but panic arose and you called out his name so loudly that he glanced back at you with concern.
“Is there something wrong boss?” he asked, looking at you with a concerned gaze.
“I —” I am going to accept the proposal. Your mind was screaming that sentence.
Heeseung said do what's best. He trusts that you’d decide what's best for you and your company. Heeseung — he loves you so much that he’d let go for your own happiness and success. He has always been selfless and you, selfishly took advantage of it.
If the proposal was for the best, then you should go with it.
But you could feel your heart tightening as a shaky breath escaped your lips before clearing your throat. Acting like everything’s since you don’t want to appear weak in front of your employee. He doesn’t understand why you’re suddenly acting that way after all.
“I — I just want to ask,” you shared, trying your best to act like your voice isn’t raspy and shaky. “Should I accept the PR stunt?”
“Do you like Jay?” he asked you back and you were surprised by his question.
“Why does it matter? It’s a PR relationship, feelings shouldn’t be involved,” you stated.
“PR or not, you’re bound to a man for two years. Would you like that?” Jungwon shared.
“Well, if it’s for the best and to save our company’s image, why not?”
Jungwon stared at you for a good minute. Observing your expression, he finds it odd how his confident and optimistic boss feels like a hurricane at the moment.
“I thought about Mr. Lee’s words during the meeting,” he stated and your heart skipped a beat at the mention of your lover’s name. “He said it’s your private life and it didn’t affect our sales and stocks. We’re doing fine and come to think of it. You have always been private about your life and relationship. Whatever status you have, are you okay with dating Jay in front of the public’s eyes?”
You became quiet at his words. Jungwon had understood your silence, and carefully, he smiled.
“Take your time but not too much boss, your decision will come at the right time,” he advised.
Jungwon left your office with the door shut. You stared at it for a good minute. You think of Heeseung, and how his office desk is just right beside that said doorstep. Then, you stared at his leave of absence. Personal reasons. It was what’s written in his excuse.
Then you wondered about his whereabouts. You were aching to ask his parents, relatives, or maybe close friends about his whereabouts but it would only make you a dumb fool. They probably knew those rumors with Jongseong and asking them about Heeseung would just give off the fact that you two called it off because of it.
You stared at his paper once again. He’s gone. You don’t know if it's for good or whether he’d returned just for the sake of having a job — you don’t know, because all throughout your life you never ask Heeseung what he wants.
He just wants one thing — you. You never thought about what his dream job would be or even his hobbies other than basketball and gaming. You never asked him about his goal in life. Heeseung wasn’t ambitious unlike you, and that left you dumbfounded.
Heeseung’s right. You have become too focused on your career that you couldn’t even spare a glance at him. Even if he’s the person you’d go home to, and even if you two had a lot of tender moments behind closed doors — suddenly it felt performative and calculated. A routine you two had become used to throughout your relationship.
There’s no stepping stone. No future plans with him — all you could think of was your brand, your collections, and if your products could remain timeless despite the on-going fad in the industry.
Handling a business, a popular brand to be specific, wasn’t easy for you. You never expect that you’ll come this far, and you’re doing everything to make sure your efforts won’t crumble in just a blink.
If the PR relationship would do good for you and your company, then you’d do it. Even if it’s a risk — even if it means losing something important to you. That was your initial thought. Heeseung should’ve understood it. He was there from the very start after all.
But then again, this is Heeseung we’re talking about. The same guy who confessed to you at the school dance two months before your high school graduation. The same guy who was there for you when you called it off twice. He was ever patient, loving, and understanding.
The only thing he wished is to keep your love not in secret, but away from the prying, judgemental public. He wishes that your love would be only for the two of you, and for the people who had witnessed it young and immature — and you, you had understood it from the moment he opened it to you.
And yet, you were so career-driven that it drove the only person who was there for you throughout your hardships. With Heeseung gone, you’re now a mess. You were confused, stressed, and angry at everything that just happened, that you couldn’t help but to laugh at your situation.
It just sinked into you that you had always been dependent on your lover. This is just one of the simplest examples of your dependency on him. It feels so sickening how you can live without him while he’s probably out there, doing something just to clear his mind, trusting that you could decide everything on your own — you were smart after all.
Oh Heeseung. You heaved out a sigh as you looked at his paper, signed with your approval as your heart continued to ache. You trust me too much.
-
It was nearing eight in the evening. You were alone in your office and for the first time in your career, the office never felt more eerie than ever.
You were busy. Busy if it means pondering about your life and career decisions while stalking your boyfriend on the internet. You keep going through Heeseung’s social media but your boyfriend just happens to be the most chronically-offline man you have ever met that there’s not a single trace of his digital platform. All his social media accounts have no posts nor updates. It has just come into you that his offline personality could be so annoying sometimes.
You put down your phone. The object clanking against the wooden table as you leaned against your office chair. There’s nothing for you to work overtime. Your business is doing fine and thriving. You could’ve just gone home and rested, but going home means facing your empty apartment that had a lot of traces of your lover’s existence — it’ll just make you miss him even more.
As you slumped on your chair further, that’s when a knock on the door disturbed your peace, completely startling you. You shifted on your seat as you watched the door swing open.
“Hi,” he greeted with a smile and your heart throbbed with anxiousness.
“Jongseong, what brings you here?” you asked.
“Just making sure you’re doing okay,” he walked forward towards your desk. Placing down a cup of warm coffee, you only gave him a smile as you grabbed the cup.
“I am doing okay Jongseong, I’m just…busy,” you reasoned out.
Jay leaned against the edge of your desk. His boyish smile was warm and should be comforting and yet, you didn’t feel a single beat in your heart.
“Busy?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Yeah,” you quipped immediately. “With the summer approaching, we are aiming to release another collection and new shades. My mind has been afloat lately but this happens very often.”
“Is that the reason why you haven’t decided with your statement about us?” Jay asked and that made you lift your head towards him.
For a minute, you pondered, “perhaps yes.”
“Why? I thought we're doing okay.” he pointed.
You blinked for a moment. Pondering Jay’s words, and then it hit you. “You…like me?”
Jay chuckled at your question. “Am I not that obvious?”
“Maybe you were, it’s just that I was oblivious,” you admitted. “Or maybe I wasn’t oblivious, I just had my heart protected because it already belonged to someone else.”
The smile on Jay’s lips faded. You two stared at each other for a minute. No one dared to move nor spoke. Your revelation caught him off-guard, while you sat there and waited for his initial reaction.
“You have a partner?” he asked in disbelief.
You smiled bitterly at him. “Yes, I have. We’ve been together for more than fifteen years.”
“Woah,” it was the only thing he could say. You nod in agreement at his reaction.
“We kept it a secret, no one knows except our close friends and family — this is probably the first time I told someone about my relationship.” you added.
“Not even Jungwon?”
You shake your head as an answer.
“Is that the reason why you’re still hesitant to our proposal?” he asked.
“Yes, because he made me realise that even if it’s going to give me and my brand a good boost in popularity, it’s not going to be worth it especially when it means I am going to pretend that I’m in love with someone else.” you explained. “The proposal was too long too. Two years? That’s too much Jongseong, then I realized that I could never pretend to be in love with someone. Not even months or weeks, or even a day.”
“You really love him that much?” he asked, feigning a bitter tone in his lips.
“I do,” you spoke softly. “And I’m sorry if I led you into thinking that you had a chance with me.”
“It’s okay, it did hurt though.” he chuckled softly, making you smile.
“You’re the nation’s gentleman Jongseong, I’m sure you’d find someone who’d reciprocate your love.” you convinced, giving him a comforting smile.
“I hope so,” he smiled, before stretching his hands to you. “Friends?”
You only looked at him, accepting it with a firm handshake. “Friends.”
It was that easy. You thought as you removed your hold from Jay. You felt the weight on your chest removed. It was so easy to reject Jay and the proposal that you should’ve done it days ago. It felt bittersweet to you and yet, there’s a sense of relief in you.
You’re not going to lose your company if you reject the proposal. Jay seemed to have accepted your rejection immediately too. It was that damn easy and you were just clouded with fear and anxiety of losing the only thing that you had built from scratch.
But that also meant losing the only person that you’re sure that you’re going to love for the rest of your life. It was a bittersweet decision. You hated that Heeseung had to let go for your sake — and you hated that you let him be. You didn’t even fight for it. Not even once.
“Can I ask?” Jongseong blurted out in the middle of the silence. After your conversation, he decided to keep you company over a cup of coffee he bought.
“What?”
“Is Mr. Lee, your boyfriend?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat. Eyes wide at him and he immediately got his answer.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell,” Jongseong assured.
“Yes, he’s actually my boyfriend,” you confessed. “He doesn’t want public attention and any unnecessary comments from the public about us, that’s why he wanted our relationship private.”
“I assumed he's a smart man,” Jay commented. “I’m pretty sure he was throwing daggers at me during the meeting, and you seem convinced to accept the proposal, but the moment he gave his opinion you suddenly became hesitant.”
“Are we obvious?” you asked.
“No, not really, my eyes were just on you the whole time, and I could count how many times you looked at him throughout the whole meeting.” he confessed and you only chuckled at his words.
“I made a huge mistake,” you told him. “He’s right, the fame got into my head that I wanted everything about me and my career to be perfect — and what’s a perfect careerwoman if she doesn’t have a perfect boyfriend?”
Jay only stared at you who bitterly smiled before taking a sip on her coffee. “Heeseung has always been perfect. He was everything I could ask for…and he was deeply, madly in love with me that it’s sickening sometimes. But you know what? We’re just meant for each other, because I am so dependent on him that I feel like my brain’s turned off because he’s not there to guide me.”
“Is it a bad thing?”
“Of course, we just…love each other that we know that we’re just fated to be together,” you shared with a smile. A soft smile that Jay thinks was reserved only for Heeseung.
“Your boyfriend’s lucky to have you.” he commented, staring at you whose smile faded for a moment.
It felt ironic. Heeseung was never the lucky one. How could he be lucky to love someone like you? You were lacking in terms of your relationship with Heeseung. Always putting him on the corner, always keeping him around but never on your side. He only wanted one thing and yet, you couldn’t even give it to him.
How is he lucky? Oh, if only there were ways for you to show your love to him aside from sharing it to the whole world, you could’ve.
“No, I’m luckier to have him as my lover.” you said in your most sincere tone.
-
Send to: My love
I told Jungwon that we’d be rejecting the proposal and that Jongseong and I are only good friends.
Jay visited me last night at my office. I told him about you, and you were right. He likes me, but he understood immediately that I am in a happy relationship.
Everything’s done now Hee. Please go home, I miss you.
Or if you still need space, it’s fine. But could you at least send me a message? I just want to know if you’re doing okay. I love you. We’re going to be okay, love.
10:30 PM
Both companies had denied the rumors. The public was pleased with the confirmation. Everything returned to the way it was. You kept in contact with Jongseong and remained friends with him. His ambassadorship with your brand continued and everything had moved on — everyone except you.
Heeseung’s leave is still on-going and you couldn’t stomach the fact you don’t know how long you’ll have to endure his absence. You missed him like crazy. You wonder if he had read your message or saw the news. With the news out now, it should’ve been a sign for him to go home, right? Right?
Another thing that’s clawing you with worry is whether the two of you could still fix your relationship. Is everything over now? What if Heeseung didn’t return anymore? What would happen to you? You couldn’t fathom the fact of living the rest of your life without him.
You didn’t even notice that time had passed in a glimpse. Your worries drifted from Heeseung to your company and then back to Heeseung again. You badly wanted to know if he’s doing okay after all but not a single trace of him could even be found.
You decided that the day was exhausting to you. Grabbing your bag and deciding to go home after the clock strikes seven. This has probably been the earliest time you have clocked out of work.
The moment you arrived at the gates of your apartment, you stopped midway when you noticed who was standing in front of your house. Your heart started to beat fast as you stared at the figure.
“Auntie,” you called out as you approached her. Mrs. Lee turned to your direction, her smile old and wrinkly as she waited for you.
“Oh dear, look at you, you’re so thin now,” she spoke as she grabbed your arms. Her cold hands indicated that she had waited for too long outside your doorsteps.
“Have you been waiting here for too long? I’m sorry — wait, let’s go inside first,” you insisted, guiding the old widow inside your house immediately.
Mrs. Lee knew your house in a heartbeat, having visited you many times. The moment she entered your house, she made her way towards the kitchen immediately and you knew what she’s here for — and somehow, your heart was filled with guilt and worry.
If she’s here, then it means that Heeseung didn’t go home. Does she even know that you and her son had broken up? That Heeseung’s somewhere in this world, doing god knows what as a breather, while you’re here heart filled with guilt because you let your relationship with Heeseung crumble in just a glimpse?
“I just made these yesterday, you could pair it with newly-cooked rice and you’re good to go,” Mrs. Lee chuckled, handing you the tupperware of marinated eggs which you loved the most.
“Oh, look at this, your fridge is empty, good thing, I went here,” she brightly told herself before she opened the huge bag she had brought. You watched as one by one, she filled your fridge with side dishes and prepared meals that’s good for almost a month.
“You didn’t tell me you’ll be visiting,” you blurted out, heart still pounding in a rapid manner.
“I want it to be a surprise,” Mrs. Lee jokingly said.
“You've been waiting outside in the cold for too long, I should’ve gone home early,” you added but the woman remained calm. Her expert hands stacked the tupperwares and jars inside your fridge without a hitch.
“Make sure you eat well, okay? I'll return here next month and they should be empty and clean by that time.” she said the moment she closed the fridge’s door.
Mrs. Lee glanced at you and you nodded at her words. Your words got stuck on your throat as the elderly woman who you consider as your second mother looked at you with a soft smile.
“Seungie asked me to bring you food,” she shared, completely catching you off-guard. “He wanted to make sure you’re eating well without him.”
Her words broke you. A tear formed on your eyes as your lips trembled in front of her. You felt inaudibly terrible, knowing that she knows that you and Heeseung are on a break and yet here she is, with her motherly tone and bag filled with side dishes, comforting you.
Despite that, you were in relief to hear her words. You were assured that Heeseung still cares for you despite his silence.
“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” you confessed to her and she nodded. Soft hands patting your back making you cry louder.
“Relationships aren’t always going to be on the good side dear, there are challenges,” she shared. “It’ll only strengthen the bond you two had made.”
“I miss him, I miss him so much,” you sobbed. “Could you please tell him that?”
Mrs. Lee nodded, “I’m pretty sure he misses you too right now. Let’s just be patient okay?”
You nodded once again. Mrs. Lee softly brushed your hair before giving you a warm hug that made you sob harder in her motherly embrace.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for everything,” you apologized to her. “I didn’t want to hurt him — I never want to, I’m just —”
“There, there,” she hushed. “Be strong, okay? You’re a strong girl my dear, that’s what Seungie likes about you. Keep fighting, for you and him, alright?”
You nodded at her words. You couldn’t comprehend everything as she wipes off the tears from your face.
“He just needs time for himself,” Mrs. Lee added. “But he knows that you’re there waiting for him. Could you?”
“Of course,” your lips trembled. “Even if it drives me crazy that he’s not here with me, as long as he’d return. I’m going to wait.”
Mrs. Lee seems to be satisfied with your answer. She cupped your cheeks softly before giving you a hug once again, and that’s when you ever felt assured and comforted for the past weeks.
-
You’re going insane.
It’s been exactly one month, two weeks, and four days without Heeseung.
Everything has died down. The rumors were cleared. Your sales didn’t drop and Jongseong’s out of the country, going on a world tour with his bandmates.
Everything’s fine now and yet, Heeseung is still not here. Still not answering your calls nor reading your messages and you’re turning insane.
Mrs. Lee doesn’t know about his whereabouts. He didn’t go home to his hometown either, and it’s clear that he’s doing everything for himself. For once, you decided to let it go and just be patient. Wait for him and he’d return — that’s what Mrs. Lee told you and you convinced yourself that you’d be okay.
But you couldn’t hold it any longer. You find yourself spiraling. Heeseung’s absence is torturing you.
You have never been this desperate. You wanted to find any clues about his whereabouts. You convinced yourself that he might’ve left a trace of something before he left. Right?
That’s why you went straight to his office desk. That one place that you don’t usually snoop around. You’re not one to look into your lover’s things and privacy but you were desperate. You just need a single clue of his whereabouts — hopefully there is, and you’ll stop and just wait for him.
As you pulled the drawer open, assorted organizers were shown to you. Papers and folders on the side. Some office materials like staplers, glue, and punchers were on the other side. His nintendo switch lay there idly which was funny considering that he barely used it.
Then you saw it. By the corner. Standing out from the rest in its velvet maroon color. Your eyes widened at the sight as the logo of a well-known jewelry brand was engraved on top.
You grabbed it with your hands shaking. Heart thumping out of nervousness as your breath holds on its own. This can’t be. You thought as it felt light on your hands. You wanted to ask your lover — how long has he been keeping this in his office desk?
You opened it, revealing to you one of the most gorgeous rings you have ever seen. Gold band with pink diamond on a marquise cut. You knew what it was. It was the engagement ring that you always wanted — and Heeseung got it for you.
Heeseung was planning on proposing to you. You don’t know when or where or how — but all you knew was guilt wrung into you further.
A tear shed from your eyes. You grabbed the ring and observed it. It was exactly what you wanted. Delicately, you placed it on your ring finger and it fit like a glove. You sighed in relief as tears continued to trail down from your eyes, thinking of your lover and the future that could’ve happened if it wasn’t for the mess you made.
In a heartbeat, you will always say yes. You always knew that Heeseung was the only person you wanted to marry. He’s the only person you have ever loved after all.
You just have to make things right. But you already had. Perhaps you should be more patient. You know Heeseung, he’s just probably cooling down his mind. You just have to be patient. Just like how he was, when he stood by your side for years. He has always been patient with you.
He’ll come home. He’d come home because you were his home no matter what. You could only clutch onto the ring further. It felt absurd to wear it, knowing he hasn't asked you the question but everything just feels right with it around your fingers.
You went home after, and for the first time since his absence, you felt assured about Heeseung’s love for you. As you pressed the keypad, swung the door open and looked into the hallway, you freezed.
Shoes. A pair of huge shoes that you were all too familiar with because it was your gift for him. You stared at it for a good minute as your heart started to beat rapidly.
Is he — he’s here right? Right? You kicked your heels too hastily before entering the living room quickly and there he was.
Sitting by the couch. The luggage was on his side like he just arrived from his flight and went straight here. He looked tired yet calm, and your heart stopped when he stood up from his seat.
“Hee —” your breath halted as you faced him, eyes began to water as he looked at you calmly — and that scared you. Why is he so calm in this manner?
But Heeseung gazed at you softly, shoulders relaxed as he gave you a smile, “I miss you my love.”
Tears ran down your eyes as you walked towards him for a hug. Heeseung caught you immediately, pulling you to a bone-crushing hug that left you breathless. His hold on you firm and strong, indicating that he never wanted to let you go while you let yourself be buried in his touch, smelling his strong perfume which made you sigh in relief.
He’s here. Your Heeseung’s here with you. Hugging you tight with the same longing as you had for him.
“I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to undervalue our relationship. I didn’t mean to hurt you — I’m sorry, please don’t ever leave me again.” you said in between your sobs.
“Hey, deep breaths love,” Heeseung stated before he broke out of the hug. Heeseung cupped your cheeks and made you look up to him. His calm gesture deeply contrasted your mess but your lover was confident. He gave you a smile as he wiped away the tears with his thumb.
“You know that I couldn’t stay mad at you for too long. You’ve done what’s right and I’m sorry if I disappeared for too long. I just — I just need a breather, but not from you, but in this world. You understand, right?”
You nodded to his explanation, sobs leaving your lips as you cupped his face too. “Of course, of course Hee — I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry for ruining your trust.”
But Heeseung hushed you softly, “It’s okay love, it’s okay, we’re going to be okay.”
“We are?” you asked once again, hopeful as it’s been a while since you heard those words.
“We are, always my love, always,” he assured before placing a deep kiss on your lips. You reciprocated it immediately, feeling his soft, luscious lips on yours, you couldn’t help but to whine as he captured you perfectly with his touch. You were melting under his arms and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed.
“Heeseung,” you called out once again. You feel like you’re dreaming and you don’t want to wake up. You couldn’t even bear to look at him right now. You still feel guilty for ruining your relationship.
But Heeseung, he has always been confident with you and your love for him. He hummed softly, as his eyes never left you. He smiled for a short moment, before patting your hair.
“I’m here, I’m not going to leave you anymore,” he promised. “Mama told you to wait for me right? And you’re here, you waited for me, my strong girl.”
He pulled you for another hug and you deeply sobbed in his touch. Your hands were clutching on his shirt hard, as you inhale the familiar scent of his, hoping it brings you comfort than you’ve yearned for so long.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” you told him. “I won’t — not anymore, I am so stupid for letting you walk away Hee. I hated myself for not fighting for you.”
“It’s okay my love, I am not going anywhere again. I’ll be here for you,” he assured as he cupped your cheeks, making you look at him. His stare was calm against your tear-stained ones. “Just promise me, we’ll be okay and will always be.”
“Of course love,” you whispered to him, smiling as you cupped his cheeks. Pulling him to another deep, loving kiss which he reciprocated before pulling away. “You’re everything to me. My constant, my always — my future is with you.”
That’s when he felt it. The hard band against your fingers. Heeseung’s eyes turned wide as he grabbed your right hand to see the ring he had kept in his office drawer.
“How did you —”
“I know I shouldn’t snoop around but I was desperate to find any clues of your whereabouts,” you explained. “I saw it, and yes Heeseung, I will marry you in a heartbeat.”
Heeseung stared at you for a good minute. His eyes wide and gleaming like a deer caught in the headlights. You only smiled at him whose hands tightened on yours.
“I was scared,” he said, voice shaking. “That you’d turn me down.”
“I have loved you since we were sixteen Heeseung. Ever since we dated, all I could think of was building a future with you — what our wedding would look like or how many kids we will have. Love, it’s always going to be you, despite all the challenges we had.” you swore and Heeseung’s grip on yours tightened.
“I — I love you,” Heeseung confessed, pressing his forehead on yours. He leaned close and a sigh of relief escaped his lips. “I love you, thank you, thank you for making me the happiest man alive.”
“No, I should be thanking you,” you rebutted, glancing at him. “You have always been my heart’s keeper. Thank you Heeseung, without you, I wouldn’t be where I am right now.”
He kissed you once again. Deeper and intense. A kiss that you never felt before. A kiss that ties your promises — an oath for the future that waits for you. It felt like a new beginning. Like the aftermath of new year’s, wherein everything’s tranquil after a boisterous celebration and yet, everyone’s heart is filled with anticipation for the new start.
Everything became too real for you. The next thing you knew, Heeseung was groaning against your lips, capturing it with hunger that you took a step back. Your lover caught you immediately, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged you closer to him. You placed your arms around him, responding to his kisses with much intensity.
“Bed?” he asked in the midst of your kisses.
“Please,” you sighed against his lips. “I need you so bad — you were gone for too long. You were killing me Hee.”
“Well, I was dying without you my love,” he rebutted before grabbing you by your thighs and lifting you. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist as you found yourself leaning downwards Heeseung for another kiss.
Your back hit the mattress before you even knew. But you didn’t care, not when Heeseung’s lips began to get more hungry to get a taste of you. Licking and biting your lips, making you whimper at his actions.
It didn’t help that his hands busied themselves on your blouse and one-by-one he started to unbutton your blouse without breaking the kiss. That’s when you insisted on removing his shirt, making him break the kiss as he hastily undressed himself — along with his pants and boxers while you were quick to remove your clothes too.
“I miss you — so fucking much,” he whispered as he nestled onto the bed once again before grabbing you and making you sit on his lap. Both skins were warm and intimate as Heeseung’s mouth trailed on your jaw, downwards your neck and collarbones. You threw your head back, giving him enough space to worship your body with his mouth.
“I miss you too, love —” your words were cut off when Heeseung’s lips trailed on your breast. Sucking it harshly as his tongue flickered on your hardening bud. He groaned under his act, as he glanced at you who looked at him darkly.
Heeseung removed himself from your breast and once again kissed you. His hunger for your lips was too much. More than a month without you, without your touch, or smile nor laughter had driven him mad. It assured him that you're here with him. Kissing him back, reciprocating his madness with the way your lips roughly battled his, tugging his hair harshly that it made him moan under you.
“You missed me that much?” he taunted in between.
“So much Hee, if you don’t fuck me dumb right now, I’m gonna go insane,” you answered and Heeseung only chuckled at your words before he pushed you to lay down on the mattress. He captured your lips once again, while his hands trailed on your skin until it reached your pussy which made you spread your legs wider for him.
His hands gather the slick before rubbing your clit in a feathered manner. Teasing you who instead of whining at his actions, grabbed his semi-hard cock and started stroking it harshly. Heeseung lets out a soft groan as your expert hands stroke it in a pace he has always liked, tight and fast while squeezing its tips every time you reach it.
“Heeseung — just put it in, please I need you right now,” you begged. His cock was already hard and you’re there, whimpering as your pussy was twitching, begging to be punctured by your lover’s dick.
“Fuck, alright, always so needy for me,” he responded before he grabbed your legs, pulling it close to him before he aligned himself inside you.
The sensation was intense. Your pussy welcomed him in a tight hug as his dick penetrated your tight warm walls. Both of you were holding back each other’s breath until Heeseung fully sheathed himself inside, groaning loudly as he felt your warmth around his cock.
“God — you feel so good,” he whispered to you before kissing you once again. “So fucking good to me, my girl, my love — my future wife. Fuck, that sounds so fucking good when I say it.”
Heeseung started to move. Light strokes to have you adjust to his size again while you could do nothing but whimper at how his cock slid on your pussy, stretching you in a good way that it had your toes curling.
His thrust became more frantic, faster as the room became hotter. Sweat started to bead, mixing in each other’s warmth as you two held each other close. You pulled him close to you as lustful sounds were the only thing that left your mouth. Your hand brushed against his hair, tugging it tight while his face buried in the depth of your shoulders. Inhaling your scent as he scratched your skin using his teeth.
Both of you were drunk at the ecstasy of the act. Your legs tightened around his waist, locking him inside you as he continued to pound on your pussy. Heeseung couldn’t help but to groan louder as his hips slapped against yours. He could feel how his cock slid inside your pulsing cunt, his tip stabbing your cervix at every sharp thrust that he made.
“Mine,” he claimed before slapping a hard thrust inside you, choking you underneath. He lifted his head to look at you, a mixture of desire and love was all you can see and that strung your heart with bliss.
“Yours,” you mumbled back before pulling him for a kiss which he reciprocated lovingly, you grabbed his right hand out of your waist, intertwining it with yours as you placed it on the side of your head. Heeseung could feel the curve of the engagement ring on your ring finger and that thought just drove him into insanity.
His thrusts become hasty as he ruts inside you like an animal. Moans turned into cries of pleasure as you could feel the pooling tension inside your stomach.
“Hee — ” you tried to put out words but the feeling has become too intense. Your fiance found the spot that had you arching your back as your pussy clamped tightly around his cock.
“It’s okay my love,” he gestured, wiping the sweat that trailed on your side. “Just let it go love, ‘m right here, don’t worry about anything.”
Your orgasm came in just a second. Strings of cry and moan escaped your lips, in which your lover hushed using his lips. Capturing yours in a sloppy manner as he continued abusing your sensitive cunt.
“T-too much,” you whispered to him but Heeseung cooed you softly, he rested his forehead on yours as his breath became unstable.
“Be patient, love, just let me,” he asked and you only whined as you felt nothing but becoming overwhelmed with everything. Your hands tightened on his hold, fingernails digging on his skin as your legs weakened around his waist, letting fall on the side shaking.
“You said you want kids right?” he asked you and your overstimulated brain was trying to formulate what he was trying to say.
“W-what?” you managed to ask.
“Going to give you that,” he claimed before thrusting sharply inside you. “Going to put a baby inside you. You want that? You want a family right? Let’s start right now, love.”
“Yes,” you sobbed. “Gods, Hee — oh my god, I want it, I want it with you.”
“Take it,” he ordered. “Fuck, you’re going to be my future wife — future mother of my kids, fuck, it’s all I ever wanted.”
Heeseung’s thrusts never stopped. Not when he’s driven to breed you, fill you with his cum enough that you’re full, warm, and filled with it. All he could think of was your future together. Your married life aside, your business and company, and what your kids would look like. It led him to fasten his pace, impatient for the future that waits for the two of you.
Heeseung let out a feral groan as his orgasm came. Burying his cock deep inside you as his warm seeds filled your cunt, making you whine at the feeling. He was catching his breath as rest on you, head on the dip of your chest while his dick twitched at every short thrust he made.
The room became silent in just a second. The two of you remained at your positions, catching each other’s breath as you found yourself brushing Heeseung’s hair before wrapping your arms around him.
“I love you Hee,” you whispered to him before kissing the top of his head. It was a rare moment, with him clinging for your warmth while you comfort him in the most intimate way.
But in a second, you felt him shaking, alarmed you grabbed him immediately, and to your surprise, you saw tears trailing down from his eyes.
“Heeseung, no, no, why? Why are you crying love?” you asked with a concerned tone, cupping his face as he sniffed his tears away.
“I’m just —” a relieved smile formed on his face as he stared at you. “I’m just happy that you’re here with me.”
“Love, I’m not going to leave you,” you told him immediately.
“I thought I was going to lose you that day. I just — I just couldn’t imagine seeing you with somebody else. Someone who’d love you in front of the world.” he confessed and you knew who he was referring to.
“I’m really sorry for that, I didn’t — I was just scared of losing my company. But after everything, I was more scared of losing you,” you explained to him. “And I am sorry, for only realizing that the moment you’re gone. I should’ve loved you more, I should’ve — seen you more than you have cared for me.”
Heeseung nodded to your words. The tears never stopped and you couldn’t help but to feel your heart shattering because you had hurt the man who had done nothing but to love you. You smiled bitterly as you made him look at you once again.
“You don’t have to love me in front of the world just to prove your love to me,” you stated. “Not when you could love me like this in secrets, with just the two of us. This love is just for us Heeseung, only us — and I’ll make sure that it’ll be this way, forever.”
“Thank you,” he spoke with much gratitude. “Thank you my love, I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“You’re here now, and we’re okay, we’re going to be okay, alright?” you repeated before planting a kiss on his lips, and from there, he nodded.
“Always.”
Heeseung rested on the bed now that he had calmed down. You immediately wrapped your arms around his bare chest as you rested on his side. Snuggling on his warm as the night becomes calm and tranquil.
“Now, I’m curious,” you whispered to him against the silence. Glancing at him who shifted his position. “How were you planning to propose to me?”
“On our anniversary,” he confessed. “I was planning to take you to Paris because you know, it’s the city of love and you always dream of getting proposed there.”
“Love, I was seventeen back then!” you insisted, and yet Heeseung only chuckled.
“I have to take notes on that one, I have to make sure that I have earned enough money to take you to Paris — and to marry you and give you the bright future that you deserve.”
“Oh Hee,” you said, feeling your heart swelling with pride for loving the right person. “You did. I wouldn’t be where I am without you by my side. Even though we kept our relationship a secret, you never left my side — never, and thank you for loving me.”
“I am lucky to love you,” he reciprocated before pulling you closer to him. “And I can’t wait what the future awaits for us.”
“I feel the same way love,” you answered, smiling at him before the two of you fell under the peaceful silence again.
“Love,” he called out out of the sudden, that it made you look at him. His eyes were looking for yours. Eyes round and filled with love as he smiled. “We’re okay, right?”
You smiled back at him. The gentle course of your expression slipped along with your touch. Cupping his cheeks as your stare lingered at him, loved and in love.
the apartment feels like someone left the oven on. it's that dead part of the afternoon where even the sun seems tired, just bleeding orange through the blinds. the fan on the floor is doing absolutely nothing except making noise, pushing hot air in sad little circles.
you're flat on your bed in denim shorts and a tank top that keeps riding up. there's a hair tie around your wrist and your phone's somewhere in the sheets, but you're too hot to care about finding it.
"this is actual hell," riki says from his bed across the room. he's been scrolling through his phone for the past twenty minutes, but you can feel when his attention shifts to you.
"your fan's broken."
"it's not broken, it's just shit." he sits up, and his shirt peels away from his back with a gross sound that makes you both laugh. "fuck this," he mutters, and pulls it off.
you look. obviously you look. the light's hitting him in that specific late-afternoon way that makes everyone look like they're in a music video, and riki's got that thing where he's lean but you can see the muscle when he moves. he catches you staring and raises an eyebrow.
"what?"
"nothing." you look up at the ceiling.
"you were looking."
"you literally just took your shirt off in front of me. where else am i gonna look?"
he laughs, gets up and walks over to the fan. "fair." he crouches down to mess with the settings like that's going to suddenly fix it, and you can see the way his shoulders move, the dip of his spine. when did you start noticing shit like that?
"still looking," he says without turning around.
"oh my god, shut up."
"just saying." he stands up, gives up on the fan, and turns around. he's closer now, just a few feet from your bed. "you've been weird all day."
"i'm not weird. i'm hot."
"yeah, you are."
it takes a second for that to land. when it does, your face gets even hotter. "that's not—you know what i meant."
"i know what you meant." he's got this look on his face that's not quite a smirk, something more direct than that. his thumbs hook into his waistband. "still hot though."
your brain short-circuits a little as he pushes his shorts down, kicks them off to the side. he's in boxers, the dark blue ones, and he's just standing there like this is normal. maybe it is normal. you've been roommates for months.
"what are you doing?"
"it's like a hundred degrees. what does it look like i'm doing?"
you don't have an answer for that. he takes another step closer and you can smell his deodorant, something cedar and clean, mixed with sweat.
"you gonna tell me to stop?" his voice is lower now, and he's right at the edge of your bed.
you shake your head.
"words?"
"don't stop."
he moves fast after that. one second he's standing, the next he's over you, knee pressed between your legs, and you can feel how hard he is already through his boxers, pressing against your thigh. his hand cups your jaw, tilting your face up, and when he kisses you it's all tongue and teeth, messy and hungry. you can taste the salt on his lips, feel the way he's breathing hard already.
your hands are in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth, the sound vibrating through your chest. his knee grinds up between your legs and the pressure makes you gasp, your hips rolling against him without thinking.
"fuck," he mutters against your lips, pulling back just enough to yank your tank top over your head. he smirks when he sees you're not wearing a bra, and he doesn't waste time—his mouth is on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks, then lower to your collarbone, your breast. when his tongue circles your nipple you arch up into him, and he uses his teeth just enough to make you whimper.
his hand slides down your stomach, popping the button of your shorts.
he gets your shorts and underwear off in one go, and then his hand is between your legs and you're already so wet it's embarrassing. his fingers slide through it, spreading it around, and he makes this sound—half-laugh, half-groan.
"shit, you're soaked." he brings his fingers up and you can see them glistening.
"shut up," you breathe, but it comes out shaky.
"been thinking about this, haven't you?" he pushes two fingers inside you without warning and your back arches off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat. "fuck, you're tight."
he's not gentle about it. his fingers curl and thrust, finding that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake, and his thumb presses circles on your clit that are almost too much. you can hear how wet you are, the obscene sound of his fingers working in and out of you, and it should be mortifying but it just makes you wetter.
"riki, fuck, i—"
"i know, i've got you. gonna make you come on my fingers first." he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. "wanna feel how tight you get when you come. "
his words send heat straight through you, and combined with what his hand is doing, you're already close. he adds a third finger and the stretch makes you gasp, your hand flying out to grip his wrist. but you're not pushing him away—you're holding him there, grinding against his hand.
"that's it, fuck yourself on my fingers," he says, and his voice is wrecked. "look at you. so fucking pretty like this."
it builds fast, that coiling tension in your stomach, and when he curls his fingers just right and presses down hard on your clit, you come with a cry that's probably too loud for the thin walls. your pussy clenches around his fingers, pulsing, and he works you through it, drawing it out until you're shaking and oversensitive.
he pulls his hand away and you watch, dazed, as he brings his fingers to his mouth and sucks them clean, his eyes locked on yours. "taste so good," he mutters, and then he's shoving his boxers down.
his cock springs free, hard and flushed at the tip, already leaking. he's bigger than you expected, thick enough that you clench just looking at it. he wraps his hand around himself, stroking once, twice, and you can see the way his stomach muscles tense.
he pushes in and the words die in your throat. the stretch is intense, almost too much, and he's only halfway in. he stops, breathing hard, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.
"fuckk, you're so fucking tight," he grits out. "relax for me."
you try, breathing through it, and he pushes in further, inch by inch, until he's fully seated inside you. you feel so full you can barely breathe, stretched around him, and when he shifts slightly you both groan.
"move," you manage to say. "please ki."
he pulls out almost all the way and slams back in, and the sound you make is inhuman. he sets a brutal pace, deep and hard, and every thrust punches the air from your lungs. the angle has him hitting that spot inside you with every stroke, and you can feel yourself getting wetter.
"so good," he's muttering, half to himself. "so fucking good, taking me so well. feel how deep i am?"
you can. you can feel him everywhere, filling you completely, and when you look down you can see the way his cock disappears inside you, slick and shining when he pulls out. the sight makes you clench around him and he curses.
his hips snap against yours, one hand gripping your thigh so hard you know there'll be bruises, the other braced by your head. the bed frame is slamming against the wall and the fan's still whirring uselessly and you can hear everything—the slap of skin, how wet you are, the way you're both panting.
you're so sensitive, still wound tight from the first orgasm, and it builds fast. he's watching where you're joined, watching his cock slide in and out of you, and his expression is almost feral.
"fuck, i'm close," he grits out. "where—"
"inside," you gasp.
that does it. his rhythm falters, becomes erratic, and when your orgasm hits it's devastating. you clench around him, pulsing, and you feel the moment he loses it—his hips stuttering, pressing deep as he comes, filling you. you can feel the warmth of it, the way his cock pulses inside you, and it prolongs your own orgasm until you're both shaking and spent.
he collapses half on top of you, both of you sticky and breathing hard. after a minute he rolls off, starfishes on his back next to you.
"sooo," he says, still catching his breath. "that happened."
you turn your head to look at him his hair's a mess.
"yeah."
"we gonna talk about it or..."
"later," you say. "when it's not a thousand degrees and i can think."
✩ˎˊ˗ part of the untouchable series | enhypen masterlist
⤷ pairing — ni-ki x fem!reader
⤷ part 1 | part 2
⤷ word count — 20.8k
⤷ taglist for the series — open !
⤷ warnings — a/b/o au, alpha!ni-ki, omega!reader, fem!reader, foul language, arranged marriage au, childhood friends to lovers trope, intense possessive alpha!ni-ki, minor physical violence, bullying and emotional manipulation (not from ni-ki !), emotionally charged confessions, ni-ki’s down bad and whipped, tooth-rotting fluff, angst with comfort
⤷ a/n — and just like that, the untouchable enhypen omegaverse series officially comes to an end 🥹💌 i’m honestly so overwhelmed with emotion even writing this—this series has been such a huge part of my heart, and finishing ni-ki’s part felt like closing the final chapter of something really personal and special. thank you to every single person who read, commented, screamed in the tags, and supported this chaotic, emotional ride from start to finish.
✩ˎˊ˗ summary — with your return, nishimura riki has never been happier—his walls lowered, his touch softer, his heart finally full. but when news of your sudden closeness spreads like wildfire, it doesn’t just confirm your bond—it invites the storm. omegas glare. alphas don’t take the hint. he tries to stay calm, but patience runs thin when the world refuses to understand that you were never up for grabs. so he makes a decision. no more whispers. no more pretending. he’s going to show everyone—loud and clear—that you’re his, and that ring on your finger? it’s not a rumor. it’s a promise.
Your laughter faded slowly, but the smile stayed. It lingered on your lips like a secret. Like something sacred.
And maybe… maybe this didn’t fix everything.
But it felt like a start.
But then Ni-ki let go of your hand.
Just for a moment.
You tried not to pout, really, but the absence of his touch made your fingers twitch. He didn’t say anything, only fished into the inside pocket of his jacket, pulling out a folded handkerchief—clean and white, embroidered with his family’s insignia in deep gold thread.
And then, with the utmost care, he reached up and brushed a thumb under your eye.
You hadn’t even realized the corners of your mascara had smudged from earlier—too much almost-crying, too many feelings. But he had. He noticed.
“I swear I didn’t mean to get you this close to sobbing,” he murmured, tone somewhere between sheepish and sweet. “But since we’re already here…”
You laughed under your breath as he wiped away the mess gently, like you were made of something fragile. Your chest ached in the best way.
When he pulled back, you tilted your chin up, blinking at him. “Do I look okay now?”
He scoffed softly. “Since when did you not look okay?”
You rolled your eyes. “Now.”
That made him huff, full of exasperated affection. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love that about me.”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
You giggled, trying to compose yourself, but Ni-ki was already tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, shaking his head with a faint smile. “Thank god you wore waterproof makeup. Otherwise, you’d be walking back in there looking like some heartbroken Omega.”
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”
“I said what I said.”
“And how do you even know what waterproof makeup is?” you asked, squinting at him. “Don’t tell me… Riki. Are you out here wooing other Omegas?”
He looked at you, deadpan. “As if.”
You raised a brow, teasing. “That’s suspicious, Riki. Very suspicious.”
He rolled his eyes, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I live with two sisters,” he said flatly. “And I’ve grown up around personal stylists since I was like—born. I know what waterproof makeup is. I know the difference between setting spray and primer. I can braid hair in three different styles.”
Your mouth parted. “Wait, seriously?”
He shrugged, casual. “It’s not like I can woo other Omegas anyway,” he added, offhanded—like the thought had never even crossed his mind.
“You think I have the patience to deal with anyone else’s attitude? You’re already a handful.”
You smacked his arm lightly, grinning. “Rude.”
But he just smiled, not denying a thing. “True though.”
You snorted, and Ni-ki couldn’t help but smile again—wider this time, like the joy of just seeing you happy was something he wanted to hold close. Maybe forever.
He stepped closer, slipping his hand back into yours like it belonged there. “Ready?” he asked, his voice gentler now.
You glanced at the closed doors just down the hall, then back at him. His hair was still slightly tousled, his expression steady but soft.
“Ready,” you whispered.
The door clicked shut behind you louder than it should’ve. It was the same one Ni-ki had slipped into earlier with Konon—tucked near the grand entrance, away from the main crowd—but as soon as you stepped through it now, hand in hand, you might as well have walked straight onto a stage.
The venue was full. Not overwhelmingly so, but enough for the change in atmosphere to be immediate. Conversations stuttered. Footsteps paused mid-step. Heads turned slowly, like in disbelief that this was happening—that you were back. And more than that, that he was with you.
Ni-ki didn’t flinch. If anything, he pulled you a little closer. His hand slid from yours for just a second to rest on the small of your back. It wasn’t possessive in the territorial way others expected from an Alpha like him—it was protective, reassuring.
You could feel the heat of his palm even through the fabric of your dress. Feel how his fingers subtly curled into the fabric.
He leaned down slightly, his voice low, brushing the shell of your ear. “Keep your chin up. You belong here. Let them see it.”
And you did. You belonged. You both did.
It wasn’t just the way you looked together—though that was undeniable. The two of you walking side by side, calm and composed, looked like something designed.
A painting come to life. He stood tall, broad-shouldered in his black button-down and coat, dark eyes sharp, while you walked beside him with quiet grace, your steps steady, your expression unreadable.
Someone gasped from across the hall. You didn’t have to look to know who it came from. Another pair of eyes followed you from the second-floor railing. Whispers erupted—but no one dared to be loud enough to draw Ni-ki’s attention.
The look on his face alone was enough to put people back in line.
A subtle shift in his jaw. The faint crease between his brows. He wasn’t glaring—but there was something lethal simmering under his calmness.
Your heart beat a little faster.
“We’re… definitely causing a scene,” you muttered under your breath, a weak attempt to joke, though your voice barely rose above the hum of tension in the room.
Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “Good,” he said, his tone low, laced with something smug and proud. “Let them see. Let them know.”
The corners of your lips twitched.
He didn’t let go—not once. Not even as the stares kept coming, some bold, some subtle. But you were both walking with purpose now, step in sync, hearts stubbornly steady as you made your way across the room toward a familiar table near the far end. It was tucked by the wide windows overlooking the garden—Ni-ki’s designated spot, always reserved for the higher people in society.
You spotted them even before they noticed you—Jake’s distinct laugh, Sunghoon’s ever-smooth posture, Heeseung gesturing wildly about something while Jay rolled his eyes.
Their mates were there too, leaning in to whisper with each other, their backs turned. All of them too engrossed in whatever story Jake was trying to act out with his hands to notice the youngest Alpha in their group quietly approaching—with you in tow.
Not until Ni-ki cleared his throat. A sharp sound. Low, but commanding.
The effect was immediate. The table went silent, heads snapping toward the sound.
“OH MY GOD.”
You barely had a second to breathe before you were tackled—Sunoo’s mate was already on her feet, arms flung around your neck in a suffocating hug. “You’re here?! You’re—you’re back?!” she squealed, her voice shrill and bright with disbelief.
You laughed, completely winded but grinning ear to ear. “Hi—! Oh my god, I missed you!”
“Missed me?” she said dramatically, pulling back just to grab your face. “Girl, I thought you died.”
“(Y/N), oh my god,” Jake’s Omega gasped, standing up beside her. “She’s—wait. Wait.” Her eyes flicked between you and Ni-ki, still very much glued to your side. “Is this—?”
“No way,” Sunghoon said under his breath, leaning forward with wide eyes.
Heeseung blinked. “Did hell freeze over?”
“Shut up,” Ni-ki muttered flatly, but there was no bite to it. He still had his hand on your back, thumb brushing small circles near your spine.
Before you could respond, Sunghoon’s mate was suddenly in front of you with a gasp, her eyes wide as she took you in.
“Okay—hold on,” she said, practically breathless. “Can we talk about this gown? Babe, you look like you just stepped off a Vogue cover.”
You laughed, cheeks warm. “It’s just a dress.”
“No,” she shook her head quickly, fingers brushing along the silk fabric at your side with gentle admiration. “This is not just a dress. Look at how it’s catching the light—oh my god, it’s giving celestial. Who styled you?”
“I did,” you joked, and she gasped again, scandalized in the most loving way.
“You did not! Are you kidding me?!”
“She’s always been like this,” Heeseung’s mate chimed in sweetly as she pulled you into a warm hug, swaying a little as if to really feel that you were here. “Putting us all to shame like it’s nothing.”
You giggled, a sound that felt so much younger than the evening around you. “I missed you guys so much.”
“Here,” Jungwon’s mate said, walking up with a glass of wine already in hand, grin playful. “This reunion deserves a drink.”
“Oh god,” you laughed, accepting it. “You’re enabling me already?”
“Obviously,” she said, raising her own glass and clinking it gently against yours. “It’s what we do.”
For a moment, you were fully wrapped in them—their familiar scents, their voices, the way they talked over each other, poked fun, caught you up in the whirlwind of their comfort. It felt like breathing after weeks of holding your breath.
Ni-ki, still silent, stepped to the side of the table, letting you reunite with them properly. He took a spot just beside Jay, arms loosely crossed now, eyes never straying far from you.
Jay nudged his elbow with a glance, tone low but sharp with curiosity. “Since when was (Y/N) here?”
Ni-ki didn’t bother to look at him. “Literally just a few hours ago.”
Jay blinked. “You’re kidding.”
Ni-ki shook his head once, eyes still trained on you, watching as you laughed at something Sunghoon’s mate whispered dramatically in your ear.
From the other side, Sunoo looked over, lips quirking as he took a casual sip from his drink. “Well,” he said smoothly, “looks like you don’t need our help anymore figuring out what’s wrong with you tonight, huh?”
Ni-ki snorted under his breath, barely able to fight back the smile that tugged at his lips. “Not tonight.”
Just then, the girls—still buzzing with excitement—started nudging you not-so-subtly toward the empty seat next to Ni-ki. One even gave your back a gentle shove.
“Go on, go sit beside your man,” Jungwon’s mate teased, wiggling her brows.
You were still laughing, breathless and flushed from the whirlwind of affection, when you finally took a step toward the seat, only for Ni-ki to immediately act.
Without even blinking, he stood from his chair and shifted it slightly away from the table, careful not to step on the trailing edge of your gown. His movements were precise, instinctive. Like he'd done it a hundred times before.
The second you were seated, Ni-ki reached for the back of your chair and pulled it gently—yet undeniably—closer to his. You gave him a look, eyes narrowing just a little.
“Really?” you whispered under your breath, your tone caught somewhere between amused and incredulous.
He didn’t answer right away. Just smirked.
Without saying a word, Ni-ki draped his arm lazily across the back of your chair. His fingers settled near your shoulder, brushing against the silky fabric of your gown. The contact sent goosebumps up your spine, though his touch was anything but rough.
“You looked like you were about to be kidnapped by them,” he said lowly, nodding at the girls still watching you with matching grins. “Figured I should do my part and rescue you.”
“Oh, how chivalrous,” you murmured, lips twitching with amusement.
“You have no idea,” he muttered, leaning in just enough that his voice was for your ears only.
You let yourself smile, head tilted slightly toward him as your hand found the edge of his suit jacket. “So what now, Mr. Nishimura?”
He leaned closer, voice barely a breath above your ear.
“Now,” he said smoothly, “we let everyone know you’re mine.”
You tilted your head, glancing up at him with a teasing smile. “You mean… to your friends or to our families?”
Ni-ki huffed a quiet laugh, his lips brushing your temple as he replied, “Both works.”
You laughed at that, soft and easy, the kind of laugh that warmed your chest. He grinned too—half proud, half helpless.
But before you could lean further into the comfort of his side, someone across the table called your name, loud and playful.
“(Y/N)!” Sunoo grinned, leaning forward with bright eyes and barely contained mischief. “You have no idea how embarrassing this guy’s been since you left.”
Ni-ki groaned immediately, dragging a hand down his face as if that might shield him from whatever was coming. “Sunoo, don’t—”
But Sunoo was already ignoring him. “No, like—you’d think a pureblooded Alpha would keep it together, right? But this man? Sulked for weeks. Got passive-aggressive with the gym bag. Once wore your favorite perfume on accident and wouldn’t take it off for three days—”
“Sunoo, I’m warning you—”
“And,” Sunoo continued, ignoring the deepening scowl on Ni-ki’s face, “he literally almost bit Jake for suggesting he just ‘move on.’ Like. Bit. Him.”
Ni-ki groaned again, leaning back with a glare and a muttered, “Traitor.”
But before Sunoo could open his mouth again, another voice chimed in from the far end of the table.
“Oh yeah? And you think you have the right to talk?” Sunghoon said flatly, raising a brow as he looked across at Sunoo. “You couldn’t even hold down an Omega until my sister basically mixed herself into your life.”
Sunoo’s eyes widened. “Hey! That is so not how it happened—!”
Sunghoon smirked. “Isn’t it?”
Then, without looking, Sunghoon pointedly turned his gaze to his sister—sitting prettily beside Sunoo with flushed cheeks and an amused smile—and raised a brow like he dared her to disagree.
Sunoo threw up his hands. “Okay, to be fair, I liked her for like… five years before anything even happened.”
Sunghoon scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah? And you mated her while I was gone. During one party. At our house.”
He leaned forward, accusatory. “One. Party. I leave to go talk to people in the other wing of the house for like fifteen minutes and then the next morning, I find out my baby sister is scent-marked by you and you look like a smug little shit who won the lottery.”
Sunoo blinked, looking very much like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “It… was mutual?”
The table was full of laughter now—Heeseung almost choking on his wine, Jungwon burying his face in his hands, and you were giggling uncontrollably into your palm while Ni-ki leaned in with a lazy smirk, clearly entertained.
He dipped closer, his lips brushing just beside your ear, voice low and laced with something playful. “See what I had to deal with without you for five years?”
You stifled a laugh, the sound bubbling past your lips anyway as you leaned into him, shoulder pressing against his.
“Well,” you murmured, glancing up at him with a smile, “I’m here now. So I’ll deal with it with you.”
Ni-ki huffed out a soft breath—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh—as if you had no idea what those words meant to him. He gave a slow shake of his head, dark eyes still crinkled with amusement as he dipped down and pressed a small, warm kiss to your temple.
“Yeah,” he murmured against your skin, “you’re here.”
It had been a week since you returned.
One painfully long, jetlagged, schedule-packed week that turned your body clock into a confused mess. Between re-adjusting to academy life, catching up on your duties, and trying to get used to the local time again, ‘hard to get used to’ didn’t even begin to cover it.
You were halfway through your morning routine, eyes still half-lidded as you absentmindedly swept a blush brush across your cheek in front of your vanity. You weren’t even sure what you were doing anymore—just trying to look somewhat alive for the day.
A notification lit up your phone screen beside your jewelry tray, pulling you from your thoughts. Curious, you placed the brush down and reached over for your phone.
riki 🐥🤍 [7:15 AM]: good morning. i’ll pick you up today. be ready, sleepyhead.
A laugh escaped your lips—soft and barely there—but genuine enough to fill your chest with warmth. Your thumb hovered over the screen, heart fluttering.
You felt like some lovesick Omega straight out of a drama, one who clutched her pillow at night and squealed over the smallest gestures.
But, this wasn’t just any Alpha. This was Ni-ki.
Nishimura Riki. The same cold, untouchable pureblood Alpha who’d once built walls so high around himself that not even his closest friends could reach him for a while. The same Alpha who used to speak in blunt one-word replies and walk off before people finished their sentences.
Now, he was opening car doors for you, sending early morning texts, and buying you strawberry bread and jewelry just because ‘they reminded him of you.’
It was ridiculous. It was surreal. It was kind of perfect.
You barely fought the smile tugging on your lips as you tapped out a reply with still-blush-stained fingers.
you [7:16 AM]: but i’m not done with my makeup yet :(
His reply came in literal seconds.
riki 🐥🤍 [7:16 AM]: you can finish that in my car. i’m already here.
You scoffed at your screen, rolling your eyes. “So demanding,” you muttered, but your grin said otherwise.
With your phone tucked between your shoulder and cheek, you quickly zipped your makeup pouch and tossed it into your bag. You took one last glance in the mirror and began straightening the collar of your blazer—only to notice the university pin was slightly crooked.
“Of course,” you groaned, adjusting it with both hands. It finally sat the way it was supposed to, a gold accent gleaming against the crisp fabric.
Grabbing your bag, you gave yourself a final once-over before walking out of your room.
And then you froze—eyeing the spiral staircase that curled down to the main floor like it was your sworn enemy.
You sighed, muttering under your breath. “Who thought stairs like these were a good idea before eight in the morning…”
Carefully, you descended step by step—heels clicking against polished wood—and peeked into the living room. Your mother was seated on the couch, robe still on, laptop perched on her lap as she scrolled through emails with her glasses slightly slipping down her nose.
“Morning,” you greeted softly, smoothing the back of your skirt as you approached.
Your mom looked up, smiled warmly, and closed her laptop. “You look nice today, sweetheart.” She stood to meet you halfway and pulled you into a gentle hug.
You returned it, nuzzling into the familiar warmth. “Where’s Dad?” you asked against her shoulder.
“Left early,” she replied, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “He had a meeting. Something about the logistics contracts.”
You nodded in understanding. “Of course he did.”
She pulled back slightly and held your shoulders, giving you a little once-over. “You look a bit tired. You okay?”
“I’ll live,” you answered with a laugh. “New schedule’s just a lot.”
She kissed your forehead with a proud smile. “You’ve got this. Just pace yourself.”
You hugged her one more time before pulling away. She tilted her head curiously as you turned to grab your bag.
“Wait—who’s driving you to school today?” she asked, glancing toward the front of the estate. “I didn’t hear any of the drivers leave with any of the cars.”
You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.
“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”
You paused. Blinked once. Then smiled—small and sheepish.
“Uh… Riki is.” You rubbed the back of your neck. “He’s picking me up.”
“Of course he is,” she said fondly, eyes twinkling. “The perfect Alpha for my perfect little girl.”
You groaned playfully, but your cheeks were already burning. “Mom…”
She leaned forward and kissed your temple again, squeezing your arms before pulling away. “Just saying the truth, sweetheart. Go. Don’t let him wait too long.”
You hugged her one last time, letting yourself relax in the warmth only a mother could give, before turning to walk toward the main door. One of the estate guards gave you a polite nod and opened it for you, and you nodded back with a quiet, “Thank you.”
And there he was.
Nishimura Riki—leaning against his sleek black sportscar, one hand casually in his pocket, the other holding his phone. His tie was loose, the first two buttons of his uniform shirt undone in that typical Alpha-boy fashion that really shouldn’t look that good this early in the morning.
You smiled a little to yourself, standing still for a few moments just to enjoy the view. Because, that was your Alpha. In your driveway. Waiting for you.
He was busy typing—probably replying to some message from Jake or Jungwon, the way his brows were slightly furrowed in concentration.
But then, just like that, his head lifted.
You didn’t say anything. You didn’t have to.
He stilled, the phone still in his hand, until his nose twitched just slightly—sensing your scent on the morning breeze.
The moment his eyes met yours, everything softened. His whole posture changed—phone shoved into his pocket without a second glance, his body pushing off the car almost on instinct.
He met you halfway.
“Good morning,” he murmured as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug that was warm, firm, and quietly sweet.
You melted into him with a soft sigh, cheek pressing against the smooth fabric of his blazer. “Morning, Riki.”
“You smell good,” he murmured against your hair, nose brushing your scalp. “I like it.”
You laughed. “It’s my new shampoo.”
He chuckled at that, hand ghosting along your back before he pulled away just enough to open the passenger door for you.
“My parents really raised me right,” he said under his breath, mostly to himself but loud enough for you to hear, “holding doors for my Omega like a proper Alpha.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t bite back the smile. “That or you’re just scared of what my mom will say if you don’t.”
He smirked, eyes gleaming as he helped you in. “That too.”
Once you were seated, he gently closed the door and rounded the car with that same easy confidence he always had—this time a little brighter, a little warmer.
He slipped into the driver’s seat and glanced at you, like he couldn’t quite help it. “Ready?”
You pulled out your compact from your bag and smiled. “Drive smoothly please, give me ten minutes. And then I’ll be perfect.”
Ni-ki shook his head, the smile never leaving his lips as he adjusted the mirror and started the engine. “Already perfect.”
You scoffed, cheeks heating up again. “You’re so—ugh.”
“Charming? Smooth?”
You groaned and covered your face with your blush brush, laughing. “Why do I even talk to you?”
Ni-ki only chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest as he reached across to buckle his seatbelt. With one smooth motion, he grabbed your bag and gently set it in the backseat before starting the engine.
“Because,” he said easily, pulling his hand back to rest on the gear, “you have no choice.”
You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled up anyway, amusement tugging at the corners. “Rude.”
The tires rolled softly over the stone-paved estate drive until the gates opened and the world beyond your sheltered home welcomed you both with the hum of early morning life.
As the city skyline came into view, tall buildings stretching up into the cloudless blue, Ni-ki calmly merged into the line of cars that filled the main road.
His hand rested loosely on the wheel, his posture relaxed yet effortlessly focused. He wasn’t rushing—not like he used to when he was younger and didn’t know better. No, this time, his driving was smoother. Slower. Careful in the way that made you feel safe. Loved, even.
You leaned back in your seat with a small sigh, flipping open your compact mirror to check your lips.
“Can you drive smooth today?” you asked absentmindedly, uncapping your lip gloss.
He glanced at you, the corner of his lips tugging up. “I always do.”
You looked at him pointedly.
“Okay, fine,” he conceded with a small laugh. “But only because you asked so nicely.”
You smiled, the kind of soft, helpless grin you didn’t mean to let slip around him, and focused on applying the sheer gloss to your bottom lip. You were halfway through reapplying when—
“Speed bump.”
His voice was low, steady—more of a warning than anything else—but his arm moved on instinct anyway. Without hesitation, he gently lifted his free hand and extended it across your front, resting just above your stomach protectively as the car eased over the bump.
You paused mid-application, startled but not at all bothered.
Your eyes flicked to him. He was still focused on the road, jaw relaxed, one hand still on the wheel.
The smallest smile tugged at your lips as you lowered the gloss and capped it. “You always used to do that.”
“Old habit,” he said with a shrug, though he didn’t move his arm right away. “Can’t help it.”
You leaned just slightly into the warmth of his forearm, grateful in a way words couldn’t quite hold.
“Thanks,” you said softly.
He still didn’t look at you. But his smile grew just a little wider. “Don’t mention it.”
You glanced out the window again, watching the blur of the morning crowd and flower vendors setting up shop at the corner. Your heart felt strangely full in your chest.
The council room was warmer than usual, filled with golden afternoon light seeping through the large glass windows. Papers were everywhere—spread out across tables, color-coded folders stacked unevenly beside laptops, and printed floor plans of the campus pinned to the bulletin board.
You were perched comfortably on Ni-ki’s desk, his sleek black laptop open in front of you, as you scrolled through an email thread about booth placements for the upcoming academy festival.
On the opposite end of the room, Sunoo’s mate sat cross-legged on top of her mate’s desk, pen twirling between her fingers, her sleeves rolled up and her head tilted in amused curiosity.
“So,” she said, eyes twinkling, “how does it feel to be back in the Student Relations Committee?”
You let out a soft laugh, leaning back on your palms as you stared at the ceiling for a second. “Stressful, and weirdly nostalgic.”
She grinned. “That sounds about right.”
“But,” you added, letting your gaze fall back to her with a crooked smile, “it’s kind of nice. I missed this. The work, the people, the feeling of being part of something.”
She nodded knowingly. “Especially being under Ni-ki again.”
You groaned, tossing your head back as your cheeks warmed. “Don’t even start.”
“I didn’t say anything!” she defended, biting back a laugh. “You said it.”
You huffed playfully, then set the laptop aside for a moment, grabbing the printed checklist beside you. “He’s different, you know. Not completely, but—he’s more, I don’t know. He actually answers emails now.”
She barked a laugh. “That’s character development.”
“Right?” you agreed, both of you giggling. “But seriously, he’s been… attentive. Helpful. Sweet, even. It’s kind of disorienting.”
“Disorienting,” she repeated with a smirk. “Is that what we’re calling soft Alpha behavior now?”
You groaned again and covered your face with the checklist.
She laughed, then softened her voice, leaning her chin on her palm. “You like working with him again?”
You slowly lowered the paper and gave her a quiet, thoughtful smile. “Yeah. I do.”
“Ugh, that’s cute,” she groaned, then suddenly straightened up and hopped off Sunoo’s desk. “Okay, no more of this—I need to fix that food stall layout before Sunoo starts sending me voice memos titled ‘concern.’”
You laughed as she crouched by the drawer and yanked it open, pulling out a sleek silver laptop. “You’re telling me he labels them?”
“Yes!” she huffed dramatically, blowing her bangs from her eyes as she sat in his chair and powered the laptop on. “Like, ‘Concern 1: Why is booth 3 beside the west exit?’ ‘Concern 2: Did you check for enough outlets?’ Like I don’t have 3 hours of sleep and 8 emails from the fire safety committee already.”
You gasped mockingly. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
She pointed a finger at you without even looking up. “Totally your fault. You were chatting me up.”
“Excuse me for bonding,” you replied, giggling as you slid Ni-ki’s laptop a little to the side and started tidying the printouts beside you.
Just then, the council room door swung open—and you both turned to see Ni-ki walk in, balancing two very loaded brown paper bags in his arms. The scent of food followed him in immediately, warm and sweet and slightly savory.
You blinked. “Um…”
Ni-ki didn’t say a word. Not even a glance at either of you.
He walked straight to Sunoo’s desk and gently placed the first paper bag in front of the older Alpha’s mate.
She raised a brow. Then, slowly turned to exchange a look with you.
You tilted your head, mirroring her confusion. What is happening right now.
Still wordless, Ni-ki crossed the room and stopped in front of his desk—where you were still comfortably seated, laptop slightly to the side. Without warning, he placed the second bag down next to you with a soft thud.
And then—without so much as a ‘hi’—he stepped behind you and placed both hands gently on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze.
You blinked, startled by the touch, then turned your head to look up at him just as Sunoo’s mate gawked openly.
Ni-ki met your gaze with a completely casual expression.
“…What?” he asked flatly.
You raised your brows. “What’s with the food?”
He sighed like you were the one being weird. “I escaped an ongoing festival council meeting.”
Your jaw dropped. “You escaped?!”
“I had to,” he deadpanned. “Bringing Sunoo with me would’ve looked suspicious. So he texted me, listed some stuff she’d want.” He gestured lazily to Sunoo’s mate, who immediately smiled into her fist, unwrapping a rice ball.
Then Ni-ki looked back down at you, the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And I already know what you like.”
Your brain blanked for a second. “…Excuse me?”
“What?” he shrugged. “You’ve ordered the same lunch three times this week.”
You squinted. “So now you’re feeding your committee?”
Ni-ki finally let out a short laugh and leaned down closer to your ear. “No,” he corrected. “I’m feeding you. Because someone skipped lunch again.”
You frowned. “You haven’t eaten either.”
“I can take care of myself just fine, angel,” he replied, that little smirk back in full force.
Your cheeks warmed. You grabbed the paper bag beside you with a dramatic sigh and pulled it into your lap, peeking inside.
Your brows rose immediately.
Inside was a still-warm bento box of rice with golden tonkatsu cutlets drizzled in thick curry sauce, two strawberry milk cartons, two pieces of your favorite egg bread wrapped in parchment, a small container of sliced mangoes and peaches, and—resting delicately on top of it all—a folded napkin.
You picked up the napkin slowly and stared.
Your name was scribbled on it in a sharp, familiar handwriting. Definitely Ni-ki’s.
He leaned back against his desk beside you and crossed his arms. “I didn’t want it to get mixed up.”
“There were two bags.”
“Exactly,” he said, completely unfazed.
Sunoo’s mate let out a loud squeal from the other side of the room. “I swear to god,” she mumbled through a bite of onigiri, “if you two don’t date already, I’m gonna fight someone.”
Ni-ki didn’t miss a beat. “We’re engaged,” he said plainly, as he leaned back onto the edge of the desk beside you.
Sunoo’s mate slowly put the rice ball down onto a napkin in front of her and just—stared.
“…I’m sorry,” she said, eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “What.”
You immediately turned your head and smacked Ni-ki’s hand lightly, the one that was still resting snugly on your shoulder. “Riki!”
He just grinned, entirely too smug. “Oops.”
You let out a sheepish laugh and shrugged helplessly at Sunoo’s mate. “W-Wolf’s out of the bag…?”
She didn’t laugh.
Instead, she gave you the most betrayed expression ever, jaw dropped and blinking as if you’d just stabbed her with a spoon. “Ha. Ha. Ha. Very funny, (Y/N),” she said, tone dry as desert. “I would’ve laughed if I didn’t just get lied to.”
You groaned and hid your face behind the napkin with your name still scribbled on it. “It wasn’t supposed to be announced until next week!”
“Well, it’s already Tuesday,” she said flatly.
“I know,” you said, voice muffled. “I’m sorry.”
She sighed dramatically, flopping back in Sunoo’s chair, arms crossed. “Ugh. Yeah, I get it. Timing. Formalities. Family business and all that blah blah. I understand.” She paused.
Then added, “Still sad I didn’t get best friend privileges, though.”
You laughed again, feeling Ni-ki’s fingers gently twirling the ends of your hair behind you, absentminded and familiar.
“I wanted to tell you first,” you said honestly, peeking out from behind the napkin.
She narrowed her eyes. “But?”
“But he was being annoying.”
“Excuse you,” Ni-ki muttered behind you, flicking a strand of your hair playfully.
Sunoo’s mate stared between you two for a long second. “Oh my god. I hate how cute you guys are.”
You gave her a look. “You’re literally dating Sunoo. You can’t talk.”
She sighed dramatically, flopping into Sunoo’s chair like the weight of being called out had hit her. “Okay. Point made.”
Then she perked up, narrowed her eyes, and pointed a finger in your direction. “But! You owe us a girls’ day. No questions asked. I want cafés, nail salons, photo booths, and probably crying over nothing in a dressing room. We deserve it.”
Before Ni-ki could so much as open his mouth to object, she turned her gaze toward him and glared.
Ni-ki immediately sighed in defeat, hands up like he’d been caught mid-crime. “Noted,” he mumbled. “I’ll stand down.”
You giggled softly, glancing at her with a small smile. “Okay. Just confirm the day—we’ll plan it properly.”
She beamed and nodded, clearly satisfied, and went back to happily eating her food like she hadn’t just threatened your fiancé.
You looked back at Ni-ki then, eyes soft.
“I’ll drive you when you confirm the day, yeah?”
He leaned down a little, his hands returning to your shoulders, thumbs brushing gently along your blazer as he looked at you with warm eyes.
“Eat well,” he said, dipping his head to press a soft kiss to your forehead, then one to your nose. “That means the rice, and the fruits, Omega. Don’t test me.”
You huffed a small laugh, nose scrunching. “Yes, Riki.”
He smirked at that—but just as he was about to straighten up, you reached up and gently tugged him back by the collar of his uniform blazer.
He blinked in surprise—just before you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
His smile bloomed instantly, wide and boyish and everything soft, and he bent back down just to press another kiss to the top of your head. “Cheeky.”
You laughed quietly as he rubbed your shoulders again, slower this time, a little reluctant to leave.
“Enjoy, alright?” he murmured. “And don’t forget you have class after this. I know your schedule.”
You groaned, making him laugh as he finally stepped away, bag in hand and heart completely full. “Bye,” he called as he walked backwards toward the door, tossing you one last grin.
“Bye,” you said, still smiling—already grabbing your chopsticks like he asked.
It was already 3PM, and you were seconds away from fully dozing off.
The professor’s voice droned on about ‘market penetration strategies’—something you’d already studied last semester in Italy and could probably recite in your sleep. You had half a mind to drool on your notes at this point, your head tilting ever so slightly…
Until someone gently tapped your shoulder.
You blinked, sitting up straight quickly as a neatly stacked pile of papers was handed to you. “Ah—thanks.”
The one who passed it to you gave a small grin. “Professor’s giving out the activity sheet.”
You nodded, flipping the paper over lazily. Just another case analysis. You passed the rest of the stack toward the students behind you, already bored again, when the same Alpha leaned a little toward you.
“(Y/N), right?”
You glanced over, slightly surprised. “Yeah, that’s me.”
He smiled a little brighter this time, more casual and charming. “I’m Riku. Maeda Riku.”
He held his hand out in that polite, practiced way.
You took it, smiling politely. “Nice to meet you, Riku.”
But before he could say anything else, the professor’s voice cut in like a buzzer. “Alright, class dismissed. Don’t forget to read the last three chapters for discussion tomorrow!”
The room immediately exploded into motion. Chairs scraped, bags zipped, conversations bubbled up. You were already packing your things quickly, more than ready to be done.
“See you tomorrow, (Y/N),” Riku said with one last glance over his shoulder before heading toward his group of friends near the back door.
You paused for a brief second, looking at his retreating figure—friendly enough. But your mind didn’t linger.
Because as soon as you stepped into the hallway, heading toward the student council wing, a familiar scent curled around you before you could even register the voice.
“There you are.”
You blinked—and nearly walked into Ni-ki, who was casually leaning against one of the stone pillars lining the hallway.
Hair a little messy from the wind, tie slightly loosened, and expression so neutral anyone else would’ve missed it. But you saw it—the small, barely-there curve of his lips.
“Riki,” you greeted instinctively, the tiredness from class melting into warmth the moment you said his name.
Without a word, he stood up straight and reached for your bag, slinging it over one shoulder like it weighed nothing. Then he grabbed the small bundle of books you were hugging to your chest—easily balancing them on the same arm.
His now free hand found yours without hesitation, fingers sliding perfectly between yours. You were so used to it by now, the easy way he took care of you without asking—but this time, it didn’t go unnoticed.
Not by the crowd of students still flooding the hallway.
Eyes darted between you and Ni-ki, jaws dropping. You could hear someone whisper “No fucking way” behind you, followed by someone else going “Is that—Nishimura? Carrying her bag??”
One girl dropped the chocolate box she had been holding, still debating whether to confess to him or not.
Ni-ki didn’t even flinch. He just turned his head toward you with that soft gaze reserved only for you and said, “Long day?”
You nodded, still smiling. “Tiring. Almost fell asleep.”
“Mm.” He raised your hand slightly to press a quick kiss to the back of it. “Should’ve skipped. I’d cover your attendance.”
You laughed, squeezing his fingers. “You already do that way too much for the others.”
This was not the Nishimura Riki people knew.
This was not the cold, unreadable, borderline terrifying Student Relations Director who once threw out a box of letters in front of the senders and handed the chocolates to his committee ‘because it’s free sugar, not affection.’
The same Ni-ki who once rejected someone with a single look and allegedly said, ‘I’m not taking applications.’
And now here he was—carrying your bag, holding your hand like it was the most natural thing in the world, and saying things like ‘Should’ve skipped.’
The Ni-ki who was yours.
He paid no mind to the stares. No weight to the whispers. He never cared for them anyway—had never once let the opinions of others dictate what he did or who he showed up for. If anything, he only tightened his hold on your hand.
You were too busy recounting the rest of your afternoon to even notice the way the world seemed to slow down around you both.
“I mean, I get that he’s trying to explain the concept,” you were saying, frowning a little as your steps synced naturally with his, “but I swear I’ve read about product lifecycle models a dozen times already. He just kept saying ‘strategic positioning’ like it was some divine revelation.”
“Strategic positioning,” Ni-ki echoed dryly, eyes half-lidded with amusement. “He says that every semester. There’s a compilation video of him somewhere.”
That made you laugh, leaning your head briefly against his arm. “I believe it. I was this close to falling asleep if Riku didn’t poke me with that worksheet.”
“Riku?” he asked, tone even, but you caught the faint raise of his brow.
“Mhm,” you replied, brushing it off. “He was nice. Sat beside me today. Handed me the papers.”
Ni-ki didn’t comment right away. Just nodded, thumb running slowly over the back of your hand. “I see.”
You kept talking, caught up in your little recount like nothing had changed. “He introduced himself too. Kind of sudden, but I guess he’s new. Oh! And the professor—he tried to call my name, but butchered it again, I swear—”
And Ni-ki was still listening. Still eagerly listening. His head tilted slightly toward you, eyes soft and focused, nodding at every point you made, even humming now and then to show he was following.
His attention was gentle—undivided. Like there was nothing else worth watching. Like the world had narrowed to just you, and the rest could burn for all he cared.
But the rest of the world hadn’t disappeared.
Not really.
A few paces behind, stuck in the movement of the dispersing crowd, someone hadn’t looked away.
Still standing near the lecture hall doors, pretending to be mid-conversation with a friend—his eyes, however, were locked on you.
More specifically, on the back of your head… and the way Nishimura Riki's hand held yours with such instinct. Like he had done it a thousand times before. Like it was his right.
Riku’s friend nudged him. “You coming?”
He blinked. “Yeah. Sorry. Zoned out.”
But even as he moved, the name you’d said echoed in his mind.
Nishimura Riki.
The infamous pureblooded Alpha. Student council. Pureblooded. Standoffish. Untouchable.
He glanced one last time at your silhouette disappearing around the corridor, the boy beside you dressed in tailored navy, a step too graceful to be casual.
Riku’s lips curved into a subtle, almost domineering smirk.
“Interesting,” he muttered under his breath.
Beside him, his friend Ryo raised a brow. “What’s interesting?”
“Nothing,” Ryo replied smoothly, not even looking away at first. But just before turning the corner, he stole one final glance at you.
Nothing? Maybe.
But something about the way his gaze lingered said otherwise.
You felt it.
That unmistakable prickle at the back of your neck—the weight of a gaze. It ghosted across your spine, subtle and fleeting, but just enough to make you pause mid-step and glance over your shoulder.
But all you saw was a sea of students. Some rushing past, backpacks bouncing; others laughing by the walls, huddled in small circles or checking their phones. Nothing out of place. No one looking directly at you.
Still, the unease lingered for a moment longer.
“What's wrong?” Ni-ki’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and close. He slowed beside you, his grip on your hand never loosening.
Ni-ki raised a brow, gaze sweeping the crowd behind you like a quiet scan of the perimeter. Nothing suspicious. Nothing obvious.
“I guess not,” you added quickly, brushing it off with a shrug and a laugh you hoped sounded convincing.
But he didn’t look convinced. Instead, he pursed his lips and subtly tugged you closer, your shoulders now brushing as the two of you rounded the next corner. His thumb gently stroked the back of your hand. Typical Ni-ki.
Soon, the familiar tall double doors of the student council room came into view. The polished brass handles gleamed under the soft overhead lighting, and without hesitation, Ni-ki pushed one open with his free hand.
“Heads up, we’re back,” he called casually, his voice echoing through the large, lively room.
The scent of paper, fresh markers, and leftover milk tea lingered in the air. You followed him in, waving and smiling at your fellow council members as some of them perked up at your arrival.
But it wasn’t just your usual group inside.
“Oh, hey!” Jungwon spotted you immediately, waving with one hand as he held a stack of mood boards in the other. “We’re running through venue layouts. Heeseung’s idea.”
Heeseung grinned from across the room. “Tell me that stage arch idea isn’t genius.”
You let out a laugh. “You just wanted an excuse to use the stocked-up fairy lights.”
“Guilty,” he said with a wink.
Ni-ki gently nudged you toward his desk. “Sit for a bit. I’ll be back in a sec, I just need to give Jungwon the notes Sunoo sent earlier.”
You gave him a soft nod, settling into his chair. His scent lingered faintly in the fabric—subtle amberwood and something comfortably warm. Familiar.
From where you sat, you watched as Ni-ki approached Jungwon, his posture already changing into that cool-headed, smooth council member. He was efficient, already pulling up something on his tablet and pointing to a section as he spoke.
Jungwon nodded along seriously, the first years leaning in curiously.
You sat there with your chin propped on your hand, watching the boy who walked you through crowds without flinching, who noticed when your steps slowed, who carried your bag without needing to be asked.
Ni-ki stood tall in front of Jungwon, gesturing toward a tablet with his usual confidence, mouth moving with explanation, brows slightly furrowed. He was the very definition of composed. So focused. So steady. So stupidly gorgeous.
Your heart sighed in your chest. You were so gone.
Suddenly, the office chair beside you screeched lightly against the floor as someone dragged it over, snapping you out of your trance. Heeseung’s mate plopped down beside you, elbow already digging playfully into your ribs.
“Babes,” she whispered with a mischievous smile, “you’re drooling.”
You blinked. “I am so not.”
She grinned wider. “I’m kidding. But seriously—aren’t they dreamy?” She let out a wistful sigh, eyes drifting across the room toward Heeseung, who was now helping a first year tape something onto a board.
You followed her gaze, then looked back at Ni-ki.
And God, was she right.
The way his hair fell just slightly over his forehead, how he nodded as Jungwon spoke, the way he held the tablet with one hand and pocketed the other—all of it so clean, so infuriatingly attractive.
He looked like he was born to be in control of any room he stepped in, and yet still found time to hold your hand and tuck your hair behind your ear like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“Yeah,” you murmured, your voice softer than you meant it to be. “He really is.”
He turned slightly then—Ni-ki—glancing your way just for a heartbeat. His eyes found yours instantly, and though his expression didn’t change much, the faintest twitch of his lips told you he’d caught you staring.
You looked away, heat creeping up your neck.
“God,” you muttered.
Your friend giggled, nudging your arm. “I heard you owe us a full girls’ day soon? I need to hear everything.”
You groaned. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”
You groaned dramatically, sinking into the chair. “I know, I know. I’ll make time.”
“Good,” she grinned, “Because I want nothing held back.”
Before you could respond, the soft click of shoes against the tile drew your attention—Ni-ki, walking toward the two of you with his tablet in hand and that ever-so-slight tilt of his head that somehow managed to look both intimidating and soft.
He placed the tablet down on his desk, and without a second thought, you reached out and pulled it toward yourself with a little hum.
“You’re just gonna steal my stuff like that?” Ni-ki laughed under his breath, clearly amused.
“You left it unattended,” you replied with a teasing smirk. “Finders keepers.”
He rolled his eyes playfully and—without so much as a word—gathered both your bag and his in one effortless swing onto his shoulder. The sheer ease with which he did that made your heart lurch stupidly in your chest.
“You ready?” he asked, already reaching his free hand out to you.
You nodded, springing up from the chair. Before leaving, you leaned down and quickly hugged the older Omega still seated beside you.
“I’ll text you,” you promised her, and she nodded with a soft smile, waving you off.
Ni-ki’s hand found yours as soon as you stepped away, his fingers immediately interlacing with yours like it was instinct.
“Bye, everyone,” he called over his shoulder to the rest of the council members, voice calm and cool.
A chorus of goodbyes followed you two out, but you barely heard them—too busy watching the way Ni-ki, with one arm entirely full, pushed open the heavy double doors of the student council room with his occupied hand.
You didn’t even bother to hide your awe.
‘Pureblooded Alphas and their enhanced everything’, you thought, internally swooning. ‘Strength, posture, presence… unfair.’
“Stop staring,” Ni-ki murmured, amusement curling into his voice as you stepped into the hallway together.
“I wasn’t,” you said far too quickly, looking away.
“You were.”
You pouted, bumping your shoulder lightly into his arm. “Can you blame me? That door is heavy.”
Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You love it,” you quipped, finally grinning at him.
His eyes softened as he glanced sideways at you, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I really do.”
“Come on,” Ni-ki said after a second, giving your hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go. I need to get you back home.”
You followed his lead without resistance, your steps falling into rhythm with his as the two of you strolled through the campus grounds.
The late afternoon sun spilled golden light across the halls, casting warm reflections on the marble tiles and polished banisters. No matter how many times you walked these paths, it always felt unreal—like stepping through the corridors of a palace instead of a university.
The high ceilings, intricate moldings, glass-paneled walls, and art pieces lining the hallways—it all whispered of old money and quiet power. It was regal, poised, a reminder of the world you both belonged to but never quite stopped marveling at.
Your hand remained in Ni-ki’s the entire way. He kept your pace slow, unrushed, like he was soaking in the last light of the day with you in it. And when you finally exited the last hall and stepped into the quiet of the private parking lot reserved only for high-ranking council members and purebloods, you immediately spotted his sleek, obsidian-black car resting under the shade.
Ni-ki reached into his coat pocket for his keys, his fingers brushing against yours as he did. The locks clicked with a soft beep, headlights blinking awake.
You instinctively moved a step forward, already lifting your hand to open the passenger side when—
“Uh-uh.” He tsked, stepping in front of you with a disapproving shake of his head. His tall frame blocked your path as he swung the door open himself. “Nope. Not gonna happen.”
You blinked. “What? I can open the door myself.”
Ni-ki scoffed, one brow raising as he leaned slightly against the frame. “You could. But why would you? I’m right here.”
You let out a soft, amused laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re spoiled,” he shot back with a smirk. “Get in.”
You climbed in, still shaking your head, but your heart was fluttering stupidly inside your chest. As he closed the door behind you with a soft thud and walked around to the driver’s side, you couldn't help but whisper under your breath:
“God, I’m in trouble.”
The drive home should’ve taken twenty minutes, thirty tops. But the universe clearly had other plans.
You were twenty minutes into sitting in the exact same spot, cars barely crawling in front of you, the setting sun starting to disappear behind the tall city skyline.
Horns honked in the far distance, but inside the car, the atmosphere remained surprisingly calm—thanks to the soft instrumental playing from the speakers, and Ni-ki's steady presence beside you. His hand remained loosely draped on the steering wheel, the other resting by the gear shift, fingers tapping along to the beat. He looked completely unbothered.
You, however, were ready to scream into a pillow.
You shifted in your seat, sighing dramatically. Your legs tucked up slightly, cheek leaning against the window for a beat before you slowly turned to him with a pout.
“Riki,” you called softly.
He hummed immediately, head turning just slightly toward you, attention drawn like a magnet. “Yes?” he asked, already half-smiling. “What do you need?”
“Your bag please.”
Ni-ki reached to the backseat with one arm, blindly finding his bag—and pulled the leather messenger forward, placing it gently on your lap.
“Thank you,” you muttered, zipping it open quickly. You rummaged through the neatly organized contents, until you found what you were looking for—his tablet. You held it up, already grinning. “What’s your password?”
He didn’t even blink. “Your birthday.”
You paused, staring at him. “…Really?”
Ni-ki shrugged, eyes still scanning the road. “Yeah. Who else am I putting there?”
You blinked, once, then twice, warmth rushing to your cheeks like a wave crashing hard against the shore. You tried to laugh it off, biting your lip to contain the squeal rising in your throat.
“Oh my god, you’re such a sap.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said without missing a beat.
You typed in the digits, heart thudding just a bit faster as the screen unlocked instantly. Inside were his neatly categorized folders, color-coded schedules, council documents, and photos—some of which were clearly candid shots of you he must’ve taken when you weren’t looking.
You were just about to tap on a game—something mindless to kill time—when Ni-ki cleared his throat softly. It wasn’t loud, but it was enough to snap your attention away from the screen.
Your head tilted curiously, and before you could ask, his hand slid gently over your knee—warm, a little clammy. It made your stomach flip.
His eyes stayed on the road ahead for a second longer before he finally glanced at you, lashes low, expression unreadable except for the slight flush on his cheeks.
“So…” he started, his voice low. “I got you something. A few days ago.”
You blinked, caught completely off guard. “You… what?”
Your fingers stilled on the tablet, and you immediately powered it off, placing it gently on your lap as you turned your full attention to him.
Ni-ki shifted slightly in his seat, clearing his throat again as he reached to the space behind your legs, fingers curling around the strap of the bag that had been sitting there quietly this entire time.
“I mean, I know the engagement’s already official,” he continued, voice softer now, almost sheepish. “And technically our families already made this a thing… but I just—” He hesitated, pulling the bag into his lap. “I wanted to do something special. Something that’s from me, not them.”
You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your heart was pounding so hard you could barely hear anything over it.
He unzipped the top compartment slowly, fingers moving with care, before he pulled out a velvet box the color of deep plum—luxurious and heavy in his palm, the gold trim glinting faintly in the warm tones of the setting sun streaming through the windshield.
“Riki…” you whispered.
He didn’t look at you right away. Instead, he stared at the box in his hand like it was the most terrifying thing he’s ever held.
“It’s not… like, this isn’t the final one or anything,” he mumbled quickly, clearly flustered. “Like—there’s going to be a formal one from both families, I know that. But I just thought… I wanted to give you something that actually felt like me.”
You watched, wide-eyed, tears already stinging at the corners of your vision.
“I designed it with one of my mom’s jewelers,” he rambled, nervously rubbing his thumb along the edge. “I remembered you said you preferred white gold over silver, and I just—I didn’t want it to be something generic. You deserve more than that. And I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Jay. I just… it’s for you.”
And then, gently, he opened the box.
Inside sat a four-carat princess-cut diamond, perched delicately in a crown of white gold that shimmered even under the dimming light. The edges were sharp and elegant, the center gem catching every last bit of sunlight that filtered through the car windows, scattering tiny rainbows across the dashboard.
It was the most stunning ring you’d ever seen in your life.
“Riki,” you whispered, hand flying to your mouth as tears welled in your eyes, “oh my god…”
He finally looked at you—really looked at you—eyes flickering with something tender and raw.
“I know it’s a lot,” he said quickly, almost breathless. “You don’t have to wear it all the time, or even now—I just… I wanted you to have something that came from me. Something that says this isn’t just a deal, or arrangement, or whatever they want to call it.”
He took a shaky breath, “This is me loving you. This is me choosing you.”
“You idiot,” you sniffled, laughing through the tears as you leaned forward to press your forehead to his. “You’re gonna kill me one day with this softness.”
He smiled then, a little crooked and a lot nervous. “Is that a yes?”
“You don’t even have to ask,” you whispered, lips brushing his as your hands curled around his wrist.
Ni-ki’s breath caught for a split second. Then, slowly, he pulled back—not far, just enough to see your face clearly as his eyes softened.
He leaned in first to press a lingering kiss to your forehead, tender and grounding. Then, without a word, he reached back into the velvet box and carefully lifted the ring between his fingers. You held out your hand, heart hammering in your chest, and watched as he gently slid it onto your ring finger.
It fit perfectly.
He held your hand up, studying the way the white gold caught the last rays of sun, before turning it palm-up and pressing a kiss right to the center.
But his eyes—his eyes flickered, for a moment, from your hand to your lips. It was quick, instinctive, and he caught himself, biting down the beginning of a smile as if to stop himself from getting carried away.
Except you were already gone.
You surged forward, cupping his face with both hands as you kissed him—deep, slow, entirely without hesitation.
He gasped softly into your mouth at the suddenness of it, but his body moved without delay. One of his hands flew to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair as he pulled you in, closer, closer still.
The other, still warm from holding the ring, found its place on your jaw before sliding down—knuckles dragging across your neck, his wrist instinctively brushing over your scent gland.
You felt the warmth immediately—the heady pull of his Alpha instincts scenting you, marking you as his. It was possessive and sweet and made your head swim in the best way.
He deepened the kiss, lips parting against yours as he breathed you in like he was starved. You could feel the quiet groan in his chest, the way he smiled into it despite the intensity, how his nose nudged yours between breaths.
When you both finally pulled away, cheeks flushed, breaths uneven, your eyes fluttered open—and you burst out laughing.
“Riki,” you giggled, brushing your thumb across his bottom lip, “my lip gloss.”
It was smudged across his mouth—shiny and sticky, definitely not part of the plan. He blinked once, cross-eyed trying to see it, before snorting and dragging the back of his hand across his mouth.
“Worth it,” he said, laughing as well, eyes crinkling. “I’d wear the whole tube if it means I get to kiss you like that.”
You grinned, still breathless, still glowing as you looked down at your hand.
“I love you,” you murmured.
“I know,” he whispered, brushing his nose against your cheek. “And I’ll keep making sure you do. Every single day.”
The early morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows of the council room, golden and soft as it kissed the scattered papers across your desk. You sat in perfect silence, tucked neatly into Ni-ki’s seat, scribbling down final revisions for the Memory Garden exhibit.
Outside, the campus was slowly stirring awake, but inside the council wing, it was quiet save for the scratch of your pen and the gentle hum of the old air conditioning unit above. A bottle of strawberry milk sat opened beside you, halfway empty, condensation dripping down the sides.
You checked the time—again.
Ni-ki had been in the second-floor meeting room for almost an hour now, probably discussing final security layouts with faculty heads. You sighed and took another small sip of your milk, lips curving slightly as your gaze wandered down to your hand.
A soft creak sounded as the double doors swung open.
Your heart skipped, already expecting the tall frame of your fiancé—but instead, in walked Jungwon’s mate, her long cardigan trailing behind her, followed closely by Heeseung’s mate, who was already sipping from a bubble tea cup and chatting animatedly.
“Oh,” Jungwon’s mate smiled when she spotted you, “good morning!”
“Hey,” you greeted, straightening in your seat as they made their way across the room. “You guys done with the booth line-ups?”
“Almost,” Heeseung’s mate chirped, settling herself onto her boyfriend’s desk like it was second nature. “We just wanted to double-check which spots were going to get extra lights.”
“I think Ni-ki has the lighting chart,” you replied. “He should be back soon.”
Jungwon’s mate had just pulled out a pastel highlighter when her eyes drifted—slow, curious, and calculating—towards your hand. She blinked once.
Then a second time.
“Wait.” She leaned forward, voice suddenly laced with amusement. “Since when did you wear rings?”
Eyes wide, you looked down almost comically slow, only to find the glimmering four-carat diamond engagement ring proudly catching the sunlight on your ring finger.
“Oh,” you stammered, a smile tugging at your lips that you didn’t even try to hide. “Right. Um.”
Heeseung’s mate gasped—loudly and dramatically. “You’re joking!”
“Nope,” you whispered, the flush crawling up your cheeks.
Jungwon’s Omega leaned across the table, eyes wide. “When did this happen?!”
“Last night,” you murmured, fiddling with the hem of your sweater. “Well—we’ve been officially engaged for a while but Ni-ki… he wanted to give me something more personal, so… he gave me this.”
Heeseung’s mate squealed. “He gave you a diamond that could pay off half the dorm’s tuition, that’s what he did.”
“God,” Jungwon’s mate breathed, staring at your hand like it held the key to the universe. “He really said ‘rich Alpha fiancé’ and meant it.”
You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. “It’s not even the size—it’s just… he remembered. About the white gold. I’ve always preferred it over silver, and he just—he remembered.”
Both girls melted instantly.
Heeseung’s mate wiggled her brows. “I wanna see how he reacts when I casually bring this up later.”
You rolled your eyes fondly just as the door creaked open again—and this time, the familiar sound of long, confident strides echoed into the room. Your eyes met Ni-ki’s the moment he walked in, his gaze instantly softening.
Ni-ki didn’t say a word as he stepped fully into the room, the heavy council door clicking shut behind him with a soft thud. His lips curled up into that familiar, quiet smile—warm, content, just for you.
He didn’t even hesitate as he grabbed the extra chair from the corner, dragging it beside his desk without a word and lowering himself into it. His hand found your thigh immediately, his fingers warm as they curled there like second nature.
Heeseung’s Omega let out a loud, dramatic sniffle from where she sat cross-legged on her boyfriend’s desk.
“My babies are so big now,” she said, fanning her face like she might cry. “Engaged. Mature. In love. What is this character development?”
“Oh my god,” you groaned, glancing at her with a scrunched nose, heat crawling up your neck. “Shut up. You’re literally graduating next semester.”
“Exactly!” she gasped, like you’d proved her point. “I’ll be gone! Out! No longer here to babysit you two lovebirds through your pining era!”
Jungwon’s mate laughed. “She’s acting like she’s your honorary parent.”
“She basically is,” you muttered with a snort, glancing sideways at Ni-ki.
Ni-ki didn’t say much—but the twitch of his lips and the light squeeze on your thigh said enough.
“She’s gonna cry at the wedding,” you added with a grin.
“Oh, I know.” Ni-ki smiled, soft and sincere, his gaze brushing across your face before dropping down—just for a second—to the ring still proudly sitting on your finger.
Your heart flipped again.
Jungwon’s mate groaned, clutching her chest. “God, you guys are worse than the dating sims.”
Heeseung’s mate fake-wiped a tear. “I love love.”
The festival had barely started and already the entire campus buzzed with energy—music playing from the central speakers, booths lining every garden path, and students buzzing with excitement. But inside the council room, things were calm, coordinated, and surprisingly smooth.
You adjusted the hem of the special council jersey you wore, proud to see everyone in matching ones. It was a sleek design—clean white with navy trimmings, the council seal on the chest, and your last names and jersey numbers printed on the back. It gave the high-ranking members and committee heads a fun sense of unity.
You were leaned over the long desk with Sunghoon, pointing at the final set of posters and promotional banners laid out on the screen in front of you.
“Make sure the font size on the event time is consistent across all materials,” you reminded, fingers tracing over the preview.
Sunghoon nodded, typing away at his tablet. “Got it. I’ll send it to the other committee heads to approve within the hour. The graphics team’s been working nonstop.”
“Tell them they did amazing,” you said genuinely, handing him a clipboard just as someone approached from behind.
Jake’s mate, graceful and always so polished, stepped between the two of you and handed Sunghoon a folder.
“Final checklist for the broadcast schedules—”
But she stopped mid-sentence, her sharp eyes catching something shiny as you reached over to adjust the folder in Sunghoon’s hands.
She gasped. Loudly. Audibly.
“Oh my god—” Her hands immediately flew to her mouth, her eyes locked onto your left hand like it was glowing. “Is that what I think it is?!”
Jake, who had been halfway across the room teasing Jungwon, blinked and appeared next to her in under two seconds. “What happened? What—are you okay?”
“She’s engaged,” she whispered, pointing, like she’d just uncovered national treasure. “She’s actually engaged.”
You tried, really tried, to hold it in—but a laugh bubbled up from your chest, and you bit down a grin. With the whole room turning toward you, conversations pausing mid-sentence, you slowly raised your hand and wiggled your fingers just a bit.
“Surprise,” you said sweetly, trying not to laugh at the stunned faces around the room.
Jay looked up from his notes, mouth hanging open. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p.’
Ni-ki’s laugh rang from the corner where he’d been joking around with Jay. “Why do you all look like I dropped a bomb?” he said, casually pushing himself off the table.
The second he reached you, his arm wrapped around your waist like it belonged there. You leaned into him instinctively, and his hand rested against your lower back with ease, protective—his.
“She’s mine now,” he added with a grin, resting his chin briefly against your temple, “legally and everything. Well… almost.”
Jake's mate blinked back into focus. “You proposed and didn’t even tell us?! That’s betrayal.”
“It just happened recently,” you said with a little shrug, your tone playful. “We weren’t keeping it a secret—we just weren’t broadcasting it.”
“Well, you’re glowing,” she said, absolutely beaming now.
“Can we expect wedding invitations by the semester’s end?” Sunghoon asked, one brow raised.
Ni-ki chuckled, gently tugging your hand into his. “Let’s get through the festival first.”
“Fair,” Jungwon said, already tapping a note into his phone, probably to remind himself to plan a small celebration party later.
And as the room slipped back into laughter and chatter—plans resuming, papers passed around again—you glanced up at Ni-ki. His smile hadn’t dimmed once since he’d walked to your side.
He was still looking at you like you hung the stars, his fingers brushing soft circles along your waist through the fabric of your jersey.
“Heads up, everybody!” Heeseung’s voice rang out, loud and commanding with a grin that always bordered on too smug. “We’re being called down. Everyone’s expected at the open field in ten!”
He stood tall at the front, already wearing his own customized jersey with ‘LEE 01’ stitched proudly on the back. His mate, now standing beside him with her hands on her hips, looked equally ready.
“You heard him!” she echoed, clapping her hands twice. “Let’s move, council!”
Groans and chatter broke out instantly.
“Already?” Sunghoon muttered, closing his tablet with a sigh.
“I just got comfortable,” Jake added with mock offense as he pulled his mate by the hand. “We better get VIP seats for this.”
“You’re literally a main host,” she said with a smirk.
Ni-ki gave you a look, and you nodded, squeezing his hand before gathering your notes and the council event checklist you had on clipboards.
“Let’s go, Mrs. Nishimura,” Ni-ki murmured just low enough for you to hear.
You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Really?”
“Yeah, really,” he replied with a wink, leaning in to whisper near your ear, “because soon it won’t just be a tease.”
You laughed under your breath, nudging him playfully as the two of you filed out of the room with the others, the energy rising with every step.
Downstairs, you could already hear the buzz of students gathering in the open field—the beat of opening music pulsing through the ground, the smell of festival food lingering in the air, and a sky turning the softest shade of peach as sunrise approached.
The open field was surrounded by colorful banners, vendor stalls, booths still covered with tarp, and string lights that would glow brighter as the sun climbed higher.
Right at the front stood the student council members, lined up neatly in front of the stage. Each of them wore their custom jersey-style shirts: bold white with navy stripes along the sleeves, a subtle emblem of the Decelis crest stitched on the chest, and their last names and numbers proudly printed across the back. The committee heads stood right next to them—ironically, or maybe by fate, every single one was a mate to a council member.
Jungwon stepped up first, grabbing the mic like he was born for this. He tapped it twice, then once more for good measure. “Testing—okay, I think we’re good—HELLO, DECELIS!”
Laughter and cheers erupted across the field. He grinned, running a hand through his already messy hair, clearly overwhelmed and giddy.
“Welcome to this year’s Spring Festival!” he called out, voice carrying across the speakers.
“You guys have no idea how hard everyone’s worked on this. From the committee heads, the student council, the design and logistics teams, our sponsors—everyone poured their hearts into this.”
“But!” he held up a finger dramatically. “Don’t forget to drink water. That sun is not playing games.”
“Real,” Sunghoon said, stepping up to his side with a smirk as he took the mic. “We don’t want anyone fainting before the fireworks, okay? The health tent’s right by the main gate. If you’re not sure what you’re eating, ask. If you need help, shout. If you see Sunoo running around—it’s probably because something exploded.”
“Hey!” Sunoo cut in, laughing as he reached out for the mic. “That happened once.”
“And we never let you live it down,” Jake chimed in, taking the mic from him smoothly. “But seriously, we’re here to have fun and keep each other safe. Be kind, don’t litter, stay hydrated, and maybe don’t eat all seven food booth specialties in one sitting.”
Heeseung shook his head, the crowd laughing as he waved. “Alright, alright. Guys—this week is ours. This festival is for us. So let’s make it count. Let’s make it loud. Let’s make it worth remembering.”
“And,” Jay added, stepping forward as he gave a short nod to the crowd, “if you happen to win any of the competitive events—you're welcome. I designed most of them.”
“Delusional,” Sunghoon muttered, and laughter followed.
Then Ni-ki stepped forward, his hand casually wrapping around your waist. He reached for the mic with an easy smile. “One last thing—on behalf of all of us here… thank you. For trusting us to do this. We’re proud to bring this to life for you.”
With that, Jungwon lifted his hand dramatically and shouted, “Hit the music!”
And just like that—the speakers boomed back to life. The first beat of the opening anthem shook the ground. Confetti cannons launched into the sky, showering the field with gold and white strips as the crowd erupted into cheers again.
The kitchen was warm with activity—ovens humming, trays clinking, the scent of freshly baked vanilla and strawberry wafting through the air. Laughter echoed between you and Sunghoon’s mate as you both leaned over a large tray of cupcakes, carefully piping soft pink frosting onto each one.
You wore a matching pastel pink apron, loosely tied around your waist over your jersey. The name printed on the back peeked out through the flour-dusted ribbon. Frosting stained your fingers, and you giggled when Sunghoon’s mate accidentally flicked a small swirl onto your cheek.
“Oops! You moved!”
“You liar, you aimed for me!” you laughed, swiping a dollop of icing from your finger and smearing it lightly on her nose. She gasped.
The two of you dissolved into another fit of laughter, the kind of warmth that made the kitchen feel like a home rather than part of the school.
But then it happened—suddenly and purely by accident.
One of the younger Beta students came rushing in with a bowl of scrambled eggs, probably meant for one of the breakfast-themed booths. She turned too quickly, slipped slightly on a patch of flour on the floor, and collided right into you.
The bowl tilted, warm scrambled eggs spilling out—half of it splattered across the front of your apron and jersey.
“Oh my god, (Y/N)!” the Beta girl gasped, panicked. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—are you okay?!”
You blinked, frozen for half a second. You looked down at the now egg-stained pink apron and the yellow smudge across your shirt.
Sunghoon’s mate clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
You looked at the girl and gave her a soft smile. “It’s okay. Accidents happen.”
“I—I swear I didn’t mean to, I was trying to get to the front—”
“I know,” you said again, gently patting her shoulder. “Breathe. I promise it’s fine.”
But of course, Sunghoon’s mate wasn’t about to let it go that easily.
“Oh no, no no no, you are not walking out there looking like someone’s breakfast!” she fussed, already trying to untie your apron strings. “We are fixing this right now—hold still—do you feel warm? Is that egg hot?!”
“It’s warm but not tragic,” you replied with a sigh, still amused. “I’m more worried about smelling like a hotel buffet for the rest of the day.”
That’s when a head peeked through the kitchen door.
You blinked, surprised. “Riku?”
Riku—the tall, well-mannered Alpha from your business class—stepped into view, brow furrowed as his eyes immediately scanned your form. His gaze dropped to the egg-stained jersey, apron dangling off one arm now, and his eyes widened.
“Wait, what happened? Are you alright?” he asked, already making his way across the kitchen.
You opened your mouth to explain, but Riku beat you to it, tone shifting to something more worried. “Did you get hurt? Was something hot? That looks—wait—here, hold on.” He shrugged off the light tote bag on his shoulder, digging inside.
“I’m okay,” you said softly, cheeks pink from the sudden attention from everyone. “It was just scrambled eggs.”
He didn’t seem convinced. “Still. You shouldn’t walk around like that.” He pulled out a black shirt, folded and clean. “I brought a couple extras just in case anyone needed one at the stalls. Here.”
He held it out to you, gaze steady.
You hesitated before gently taking it. “Thank you, Riku. You really didn’t have to.”
He just smiled—polite, almost a little proud. “Can’t have one of our business partners presenting a marketing pitch smelling like breakfast.”
You let out a soft laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “That pitch was last week.”
“And yet you’re still doing all the work,” he chuckled. “Come on—there should be a few changing rooms scattered around the building. I’ll help you find one.”
You looked at him, a little reluctant. “Riku, really—”
“I insist,” he said kindly. “You shouldn’t have to walk around covered in eggs.”
You sighed, but gave in. “Alright.”
The two of you walked down the hallway, your shoes softly tapping against the tiled floors. Light conversation drifted between you—mostly about the festival booths, how crowded the quad was getting, and whether or not the matcha latte stand was open yet.
You turned the corner together, barely a few hallways away from the baking booth, when a familiar voice cut through the hallway.
“(Y/N)?!”
You both stopped in your tracks.
Ni-ki.
He was jogging toward you, urgency in every step, worry painted all over his face. Sunoo’s mate trailed closely behind him, eyes equally wide, the hem of her skirt slightly lifted from the run.
You didn’t even get a chance to call out his name before he reached you.
“Are you okay?” Ni-ki asked quickly, hands immediately reaching out to brush your hair behind your shoulder and scan your expression. His hand hovered over your side, thumb brushing against the egg-stained jersey. “Someone said you got splattered—was it hot? Did it burn you? Where are you hurt?”
His voice was low but fast, almost breathless. That Alpha panic—protective—was setting in fast.
“I’m okay,” you said softly, blinking up at him. “It was just scrambled eggs. No burns.”
You couldn’t help it—your eyes drifted down to take him in. His usual council jersey was unbuttoned now, hanging loose like a flannel over a fitted black shirt. The thin fabric clung perfectly to his torso, the edge of his silver chains dangling near the embroidery on the jersey—his last name glinting with every move he made. He looked undone, slightly winded, flushed from the quick run, but still every bit of Alpha—sharp and soft in the same breath.
Your breath caught. “You—um.”
Riku scoffed lightly beside you, like Ni-ki’s presence was hardly worth the effort of acknowledgment.
“She’s okay, Nishimura,” he said smoothly, voice laced with something that made your pulse jump. “I was just helping her find a place to change. That’s all.”
Ni-ki’s gaze slid to the Alpha beside you, his body going still in that way only a pureblood could manage. His jaw ticked once, tight. Controlled. But his eyes were sharp.
Riku’s tone wasn’t defensive. No. It was confident—possessive, even. Like he was deliberately poking the bear.
“I see,” he muttered, voice low and flat.
You stepped in quickly, hoping to smooth the crackling air. “Thank you, Riku,” you said, offering a small, polite smile—your version of a peace offering.
But Riku didn’t take it.
“Of course,” he said, but there was no warmth in it. His eyes dragged back to Ni-ki, not even pretending anymore. “Wouldn’t want you partner walking around smelling like breakfast.”
The emphasis wasn’t lost on anyone.
Ni-ki took a step closer—not to Riku, but to you. His arm slid around your waist, tugging you gently, yet firmly, into his side despite the mess on your jersey. It wasn’t just about comfort.
It was a claim.
He raised a single brow, eyes flicking to where Ni-ki’s hand now rested on your waist. “Relax,” Riku said, voice smooth, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. “She’s not property, Nishimura.”
Ni-ki’s gaze darkened instantly, pupils sharpening. His hand on you tightened—not to hurt, but enough that you could feel the heat behind his restraint. A growl threatened at the edge of his throat, barely muffled as he exhaled hard through his nose.
You looked between them, confused, lips parting slightly. The tension was suffocating. You couldn’t figure out if this was some long-standing grudge or if something had just snapped into place between them—but neither Alpha was backing down.
Then Ni-ki’s attention dropped. To the black shirt in your hands.
His nose twitched once. The change in his expression was instant—something in him turning cold and bitter. His fingers uncurled from your waist just long enough to yank the shirt from your grasp with a sharp pull.
Without a word, he shoved it against Riku’s chest. Not enough to knock him off balance, but enough to send a message.
“Keep your shirt, yeah?” Ni-ki said lowly, tone flat—but the words hit hard. The double meaning echoed, more territorial than anything you’d ever heard from him.
Riku caught the shirt with ease, but the cocky smile never left his face. He let out a short, almost mocking chuckle, like the whole thing had gone exactly how he wanted.
“No worries,” he said, turning on his heel without so much as a glance back. “Let me know if she changes her mind.”
You watched him disappear toward the booth, slow and confident, his hand swinging the shirt casually at his side like it meant nothing.
You turned to say something, but the moment was cut short by the sound of hurried footsteps and a familiar voice weaving through the crowd.
“There you are!” Sunoo’s mate huffed, coming into view between clusters of students. “Ni-ki, I’m so sorry—I lost you in the crowd.”
Her tone was breathless and apologetic, eyes flicking quickly from him to you, landing immediately on the mess staining your jersey.
“Oh no—(Y/N)!” she gasped, hands flying up to her mouth. “I’m so sorry, I panicked earlier. I didn’t even think to grab you an extra shirt—I just ran off to try and find Ni-ki.”
You blinked at her, heart still half-tangled in the moment that just passed, but you shook it off quickly, offering her a gentle smile.
“It’s okay, really,” you said, voice soft. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I still feel awful,” she said with a sheepish wince, cheeks tinged pink. “But I’m here now! I’ll cover your shift for a bit. You look like you need a second.”
She gave your shoulder a warm squeeze, eyes full of guilt and kindness all at once. You opened your mouth to say thank you, but she was already taking a step back, waving quickly with both hands.
“I’ll be in the booth! Go breathe for a bit!”
And just like that, she disappeared into the same direction Riku had gone.
Ni-ki let out a slow breath beside you, the weight of it settling on his shoulders. He didn’t say anything—just gently tugged on your hand, his fingers curling tighter around yours like he wasn’t planning to let go anytime soon.
You followed him wordlessly, walking through the sea of students that still buzzed and laughed, unaware of the whirlwind in your chest. The crowd thinned the farther you walked, voices fading into background hums. Your steps fell into rhythm with his, the hallways quieter now, lined with paper signs and festival flyers starting to peel off the walls.
Eventually, the two of you turned a corner into the academy’s left wing—quieter, shaded, the buzz of activity distant now. Only a few students lingered around, mostly lounging near the walls with drinks in hand, too caught up in their own chatter to notice the tension wrapped around your frame.
You blinked up at Ni-ki, about to ask what you were even supposed to change into, when—
He pulled his hand from yours.
And then, without a word, he peeled his jersey off in one smooth motion. The fabric slipped from his frame effortlessly, revealing the black shirt underneath—thin and slightly loose, the edge of one silver chain glinting against his collarbone. You barely registered the way your throat dried.
He held the jersey out to you, arm outstretched. “Here,” he said simply.
You froze. “Wait… Riki—”
“It’s clean,” he said, gaze soft but unreadable. “And it’s mine.”
The fabric in his hands—the same one that had clung to his skin all day, soaked in his scent, threaded with something warmer now that it was being offered so suddenly. Not just for comfort. Not just out of convenience.
Your hands twitched at your sides, unsure of what to do. Panic sparked up your spine, but it wasn’t fear. It was something else—something warmer, messier.
“Are you sure?” you managed, voice small. “I don’t want you to get in trouble or—”
“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t sure,” he replied, quiet but firm.
You slowly reached out, brushing your fingers against the edge of the jersey. The moment it touched your skin, you felt the difference—the heat still trapped in the fabric, the unmistakable pull of Alpha scent that made your heart do something wild and unsteady.
He watched you for a moment—like he could see all the thoughts tumbling in your head and didn’t mind waiting for you to sort through them.
“Change inside,” he said finally, his voice dipping a little, eyes flicking to the booth behind you. “I’ll wait right here.”
You nodded slowly—wordlessly—the jersey pressed tightly to your chest like it might slip away if you didn’t hold it hard enough. You stepped into the small booth, the curtain falling shut behind you with a soft swoosh.
The space was dimly lit, just a single overhead bulb flickering above, casting shaky shadows along the metal frame. You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, heart thundering in your ears.
Carefully, you reached for the hem of your stained jersey, fingers brushing over the ring on your finger—Ni-ki’s ring—worn on a chain for safekeeping. You adjusted it gently, making sure it didn’t tug or catch.
Your hands trembled just a little as you peeled your own jersey off, careful with the fabric even though it was ruined. And then you held up his—still warm from his skin, still heavy with the scent of him.
The moment you pulled it over your head, your Omega curled warmly inside you like a contented sigh. It was too big—his scent immediately wrapping around your frame like a second skin, sinking deep into the crook of your neck, down your spine, and blooming in your chest.
You were wearing something that was his, and your body knew it.
When you stepped out again, Ni-ki was leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed loosely. His gaze had been fixed somewhere else, distant—jaw still tense from earlier—but the second he looked up and saw you, something shifted.
The irritation melted right out of his eyes, his arms dropped to his sides slowly, uncrossing as he straightened up.
You looked shyly at him from under your lashes, fingers fidgeting with the hem of the oversized jersey that nearly swallowed your hands.
“I… I’m done,” you mumbled, biting the inside of your cheek.
Ni-ki didn’t answer, he just stared.
Like he’d never seen you before. Like he’d forgotten what he was angry about—what he was supposed to care about at all—because there you were, standing in his jersey like it was always meant for you. The sight hit him with a force stronger than any punch. Stronger than the stupid bitterness he’d been trying to swallow since earlier.
You looked like his—and he couldn’t pretend that didn’t matter.
He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze trailing down the fit of the jersey on your frame. It clung to the edges of your shoulders, hit mid-thigh, sleeves way too long—but that was the best part. It looked right on you. Too right.
His voice, when it came, was quiet—almost a whisper.
“Come here.”
You blinked up at him, eyes wide, but your feet moved before you could think. And the second you were close enough, Ni-ki reached out and wrapped his arms around you—pulling you in like he didn’t plan to let go for a while.
You melted instantly.
The jersey was warm between you, the weight of him familiar as you pressed your cheek to his chest. He was solid, heartbeat steady beneath your ear, the rise and fall of his breathing calming you more than you wanted to admit.
Your arms snuck around his waist without hesitation, fingers knotting into the back of his shirt as if they belonged there.
Ni-ki sighed—deep, relieved—and tilted his head just slightly so his lips brushed the top of your head. He lingered there for a second before placing the softest, gentlest kiss into your hairline.
“You look good, angel,” he murmured, the word curling into you like a brand.
You beamed before you could stop it. The kind of smile that bloomed without warning, the kind that pulled your whole face with it.
You shifted a little on your feet, raising up on your toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek—barely even reaching it, just the edge of it—but it was enough to make him laugh, full and boyish.
He let go, but only enough to reach for your hand, fingers locking through yours like instinct.
“C’mon,” he said, eyes still crinkled from the laugh. “Let’s go—”
“Wait,” you blurted, tugging him gently by the hand.
He paused, brows lifting. “What’s wrong?”
Your scent spiked sweet in the air—like raspberries melting under the harsh sunlight—and Ni-ki immediately stiffened a little, taken off guard. It was your nervous-sweet, your shy scent, and he knew it too well by now.
Your fingers fumbled into your pocket, cheeks pink, voice small. “I just—before we go…”
From your pocket, you pulled out a neatly folded pink and white handkerchief—soft cotton, dainty edges embroidered in pale thread. Your initials sat stitched into the corner, barely the size of your thumb.
Ni-ki’s gaze followed it, curious.
You looked away bashfully, rubbing the fabric gently along the inside of your wrist—just enough for your scent to soak in, for it to cling and linger. You folded it once more, carefully, and stepped closer to him. With shy, delicate fingers, you reached for one of the front belt loops on his pants and looped the cloth through it—tying it into a small bow that rested lightly against his hip.
“There,” you whispered, barely above the wind.
Ni-ki stared down at it, then at you.
His eyes softened completely, the edges of his lips curling up into something open and unguarded. “Is that for me?”
You nodded, trying not to combust on the spot. “Mhm. It’s… so you can have something scented, too.”
He smiled so widely it made your chest hurt. “You really just did that.”
You laughed softly, heart thudding way too fast as you reached out and laced your fingers through his—warm palm against yours, fingers naturally curling between your own like they were always meant to fit there.
You tugged him forward with a grin, gently pulling him back into the sunlight pooling between the banisters and the soft chatter of students echoing nearby.
“It was only fair, you know?” you said teasingly, giving his hand a playful swing as you walked. “You gave me something of yours.”
He let out a quiet hum, the corner of his mouth still quirked up. “Still,” he muttered. His free hand brushed against the little pink and white bow now fluttering slightly from his belt loop. “I’m never taking this off.”
You laughed again, cheeks blooming with warmth. “But Riki—” you tilted your head up at him, teasing, “—you have to wash it eventually.”
His face twisted in mock offense. “What? No.”
You giggled. “It’s going to get dirty.”
“But your scent will come off,” he protested, brows furrowing like a pouty kid. “I want to keep it like this.”
You laughed again, breathy and warm, giving his hand a playful squeeze. “You’re so dramatic,” you teased softly, and he gave you a mock offended look—though his fingers didn’t let go of yours for even a second.
“Come on, Mr. Scent-Obsessed,” you mumbled fondly, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “Let’s go back.”
He let out a hum, allowing you to tug him gently down the corridor, the two of you walking in no particular rush. Your pace was slow—like your own private bubble had formed, untouched by the noise of the festival still bustling around you.
You walked hand in hand, fingertips interlaced and swinging lightly between you, your head occasionally brushing against his shoulder. He let you pull him toward the direction of the booth, but neither of you were in a hurry to leave the little moment behind.
There were stares—people passing by, whispering, watching. After all, Ni-ki wasn’t the type to walk around publicly this soft, this clingy, this visibly whipped.
But he didn’t care, and neither did you.
You gave his hand a few light squeezes as you passed a group of stunned-looking underclassmen, giggling under your breath. “I think you just ruined someone’s perception of you.”
He glanced sideways at you, smirking. “Good.”
You laughed again, heart so full you couldn’t help it—you stood on your toes, leaned over, and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
It barely landed—your height not quite enough and him not expecting it—but it still made his entire body still for a second.
“…You just—” he blinked, that soft pink blush spreading across his ears.
You smiled, eyes glowing. “Mhm. I did.”
He bit back a grin, exhaling hard through his nose like he couldn’t quite handle it. “You’re killing me.”
You giggled as you turned the final corner and spotted your booth coming into view.
Sunghoon’s mate perked up instantly from her place by the counter, her face lighting up in relief as she spotted you. She stepped toward you immediately.
“There you are! I was starting to think you got kidnapped or something—” her eyes raked over you once, gaze lingering on the jersey you now wore. “Wait. That’s not—oh.”
You smiled sheepishly. “I’m okay, promise. Just needed a minute.”
She glanced at Ni-ki beside you, who gave her a small wave with his free hand, the other still firmly locked around yours. The sight made her blink, lips twitching into a slow smile.
“Well,” she said, letting out a sigh. “I’ll leave you two then. You got your scent reset and everything,” she teased, stepping back toward the booth with a tiny smirk.
You gave her a grateful look before turning to Ni-ki again.
“I’ll see you later?” you asked, giving his hand one last gentle squeeze.
He smiled—soft and full of something deeper than words. “Text me if anything happens.”
You nodded, and he lifted your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it before slowly letting go.
You turned back toward the booth, heart still fluttering, and just as you stepped behind the counter, you glanced back—Ni-ki was still watching you, hands tucked into his pockets, smile still etched across his lips.
The third day of the festival was in full swing, and the west wing buzzed with life. Colorful banners fluttered above head, laughter echoing through the open walkways.
Students weaved through stalls with food in hand, music playing faintly from a nearby booth, and somewhere in the distance, a karaoke machine wailed a familiar pop ballad.
You walked with Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate at your sides, the three of you armed with clipboards and pens, diligently checking off updates from the clubs stationed in the area. Despite the paperwork, your pace was casual and your conversations light.
“Okay, the Robotics Club extended their booth for another day,” Jungwon’s mate said, tapping her pen to the checklist.
Jake’s mate grinned. “As long as they don’t start flying drones over the food stalls again, I’m good.”
That sent you all into a quick burst of laughter.
You paused near the newly built Wedding Booth—complete with plastic flower arches, a rented velvet aisle runner, and a cardboard sign that read: "Find your potential mate, or at least look good trying!"
“I can’t believe they actually pulled this off,” you muttered, eyeing the velvet guestbook and fake rings lined neatly on the side.
“Honestly,” Jake’s mate giggled, elbowing you gently, “with how you look in that jersey, someone might just propose to you here and now.”
You blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”
Jungwon’s mate was already spinning you around dramatically, cackling. “You seriously didn’t think we’d notice? Navy blue Decelis jersey. Number ten. Nishimura stretched loud and proud on the back?”
You swatted at them playfully, heat creeping up your neck. “It was an instruction for today!”
“We were told to wear our own jerseys,” Jake’s mate pointed out, arching a brow.
You sighed, exasperated but fond. “Riki refused to wear his. Gave it to me this morning, said he’d rather see me in it than wear it himself.
Jungwon’s mate clutched her chest. “That’s so disgustingly cute I want to throw something.”
You laughed, heart fluttering. “And then he pestered Jay for a new one, with my last name on the back.”
Jake’s mate snorted. “So that’s why he was flaunting his jersey earlier—before we were called down for the parade lineup. He kept tugging at the sleeves like he was showing something off.”
“Jay refused at first but… let’s be real. He can never say no to Riki.”
“He’s basically his son,” Jungwon’s mate chuckled.
You three stopped near one of the more crowded food booths. The smoky scent of grilled chicken and barbecue skewers filled the air, and rows of sizzling meat on sticks lined the stall counters. Students gathered around, picking at fried rice, fish balls, and spicy wings stacked in paper boats.
“This smells amazing,” Jake’s mate said, leaning forward to peek at the handwritten menu.
“Remind me to get a stick before we go,” Jungwon’s mate mumbled.
You handed off your clipboard briefly. “I’ll catch up—I need to find a restroom.”
“Go ahead,” Jake’s mate waved you off. “We’ll be right here. Don’t get kidnapped by a wedding booth Alpha.”
Jungwon’s mate snorted, nudging Jake’s. “As if Ni-ki would ever let that happen.”
You laughed under your breath, shaking your head as you waved them off. “You guys are ridiculous.”
Your feet carried you in a light jog across the tiled walkway, sneakers thudding gently against the floor as you made your way to the nearest restroom nestled between the photography club’s booth and a snack corner.
The door creaked as you pushed it open, a burst of cool air greeting your warm skin. You placed your clipboard gently down on the sink counter, the paper checklist still clipped tightly in place, and turned the faucet on.
Cool water splashed against your fingers as you lathered up, the sweet scent of Ni-ki’s detergent lingering faintly on your borrowed jersey sleeves as they rolled back slightly past your elbows.
Your gaze flicked to the mirror as you leaned closer, pulling out a familiar, slightly worn tube of lip gloss from your pocket. The light pink tint shimmered faintly under the restroom lights as you applied it carefully, dabbing your lips and smacking them together once before tucking the gloss away again.
The star-shaped clips framing your face had slipped slightly with the wind, so you gently adjusted them—each little motion calming.
The door creaked open again.
Loud voices immediately followed—three, maybe four girls giggling as they poured into the restroom behind you. You didn’t think much of it at first, focused on your reflection as you fixed the hem of your jersey and reached for the clipboard again.
“You’re (Y/N), right?”
You glanced at the mirror, catching their reflection as you raised a brow at the tone—too casual, laced with just the right amount of disrespect to catch your attention. You didn’t recognize her, but her badge said she was from your year.
Still, you kept your cool.
“Yes,” you said simply, fingers curling around the clipboard. “Excuse me.” You took one step forward before another girl—shorter—sidestepped directly in front of you, blocking the door.
You sighed under your breath and forced a tight smile to your lips, straightening your shoulders. The air suddenly felt heavier. Your eyes flicked to her badge, then to the other girls now huddled behind her like shadows.
Same year. Figures.
One of them let out a stifled laugh, whispering something into the ear of the taller girl beside her. You didn’t catch it, but it didn’t matter. The smug look on their faces said it all.
“So…” the girl in front said, head tilting like she was trying to look curious and not catty. “Are you really wearing Ni-ki’s jersey right now?”
You blinked once, tone steady. “What’s it to you if I am?”
That made them laugh—too loud, too rehearsed.
The girl blocking your way scoffed, arms crossing in front of her chest. “Who even are you to do that? Like, seriously? You think wearing his jersey makes you someone special?”
There it was. The bite behind the fake curiosity. You stared at her for a moment, expression unreadable.
“No,” you said. “But being his fiancée does.”
Like a glass shattering on tile, the laughter abruptly died. One of the girls behind her coughed, eyes widening slightly as the smirk slid off her lips.
The girl in front furrowed her brows. “Wait—what?”
You didn’t blink. Didn’t flinch. “I’m his fiancée.”
And the moment the words settled in the air—unshaking, confident—they scoffed again, this time with disbelief.
“You’re kidding.” The shorter girl laughed again, looking you up and down as if expecting a punchline.
But you didn’t give one. You just looked at her. Expression steady. Shoulders relaxed. Chin tilted just slightly higher than it had been a minute ago.
You were the (L/N) heir.
A pureblooded Omega born into the higher ranks of the food chain. Groomed with etiquette sharper than knives, raised with poise sewn into your spine, and molded under pressure that would’ve crumbled people like the ones standing in front of you. You were never taught to flinch. Not even in the face of fire.
Your smile only tightened as you stared the four of them down. Being scared of jealous people? That was beneath you. You’d been envied all your life—admired, whispered about, hated from across gilded rooms. What were four girls in a bathroom compared to the world you were built to rule?
You were treated like a goddess among men. And they? They were just mortals—wielding bitterness like it made them powerful.
One of them—standing near the girl who first spoke—let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “You’re lying,” she sneered, eyes rolling like your words were dirt under her shoes. “Ni-ki would never go for someone as low as you.”
“Yeah,” the fourth girl chimed in, stepping closer to your right. “He’s way too serious for romance. Everyone knows he doesn’t care about stuff like that.”
Your head tilted ever so slightly. “Mm,” you hummed. “Too busy for omegas like you?”
Suddenly, the girl blocking your path lashed out.
Her fingers curled around your clipboard and yanked it from your grasp with a forceful tug, the wood smacking the tiles as she slammed it to the floor. The pages scattered, fluttering like leaves around your feet.
But you simply pushed your hair behind your ear, tilting your head in polite disinterest.
“Are you done?” you asked softly.
“Listen here, you pathetic excuse of a bitch,” The girl in front growled. “You’re gonna stay away from Ni-ki. Got it? You don’t belong anywhere near him. So take that jersey off, wipe that smug little smile off your face, and disappear.”
You laughed. Not the nervous kind. Not even a gentle one. It was mocking. Low, amused, cruel in the way it curled from your lips with zero fear. The sound echoed off the tiled walls, drawing tension from the others like a struck match.
“You’re adorable,” you said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Thinking you can threaten me like I haven’t heard worse at family dinners.”
The girl in front raised her hand.
You didn’t block it. Didn’t lean away. You simply stood there, posture poised, shoulders relaxed—untouched by the rage blazing in her eyes. And when the slap landed—sharp against your cheek, the sting echoing with a faint crack—you barely blinked.
You sighed. “Hmm,” you murmured. “That’ll bruise.”
Your cheek burned. It would definitely swell later. But you still looked at her like she was a mild inconvenience at most.
“You done embarrassing yourselves?” you said, voice low but firm now. No more fake sweetness. “Because I really have better things to do than stand here while a bunch of desperate little nobodies throw tantrums over my Alpha who doesn’t even know your names.”
And then, with nothing but the click of your tongue and the rustle of your jersey as you turned, you walked out.
Your shoulder brushed—shoved—into the two standing in front of you, not enough to throw them off, but enough to send a message. You didn’t shrink. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t run.
Your footsteps were steady. Your head held high.
You spotted them easily—Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate, standing exactly where you left them by the food booth. Their laughter had stopped. The light conversation had vanished the second they caught sight of you.
Jake’s mate blinked, her eyes widening as she took in the redness blooming on your cheek. Jungwon’s mate stiffened, clipboard nearly dropping from her hand.
They were by your side in an instant.
“Hey—hey, what happened?” Jake’s mate asked, voice gentle but frantic as her hands flew to your arms, eyes scanning your face. “Why do you look like that? What the hell happened to your—?”
“I’m fine,” you said quickly, brushing it off, trying to smile even as your cheek pulsed.
“You’re not,” Jungwon’s mate said, her voice deadly calm. Her scent, normally floral and light, began to sharpen—tinged with smoke and stormclouds. “Your scent’s all over the place.”
“I just—look, it’s not that big of a deal—”
Jake’s mate rubbed your arm softly, like you were breakable, like one wrong word would crack your composure. “It is a big deal. Your cheek is turning red.”
“I said I’m fine—”
“No, you’re not.” Jungwon’s mate stepped back, fingers already digging into her pocket for her phone. “Who was it?”
“Don’t,” you said quickly, reaching for her wrist. “Seriously, it’s—”
She dodged you, stepping out of reach like a flash. Her eyes met yours, narrowed and blazing, and for a second she looked so much like your mother—stern, impossible to argue with—you froze.
“I’m not letting anyone touch our girls and walk away from it,” she muttered under her breath as she typed furiously on her screen. “Ni-ki’s gonna find out in the next five minutes whether you like it or not.”
Jake’s mate let out a low whistle. “You know,” she said, trying to ease the fire in the air with a soft laugh, “you used to be so timid before you met Jungwon. And now look at you—like a mother wolf ready to bite someone's head off.”
Jungwon’s mate didn’t even pause. “That’s because people keep testing me.”
You sighed again, torn between affection and mild dread. “Please don’t cause a scene.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Jake’s mate smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “that ship sailed the second someone laid a hand on you.”
The next thing you knew, you were walking beside Jay’s mate and Heeseung’s mate, both having joined the fussing. Their Omega instincts were in full swing as they cursed under their breaths, furious.
"They dared touch you?" Heeseung’s mate snapped. “Where are they? I’ll break their teeth.”
“Jay’s going to lose it when he hears, you’re practically his sister,” his mate muttered, shaking her head.
Behind you, Jake’s mate and Jungwon’s mate were whispering sharply, their conversation too low to catch—but you knew it was about you.
You all reached the student council meeting room. The door swung open.
Inside, Sunoo’s mate and Sunghoon’s mate immediately rushed forward.
“Sit down—come on, sit,” Sunghoon’s mate urged, guiding you gently to the head of the long table.
Sunoo’s mate placed a cold strawberry milk in your hands without a word.
They exchanged worried glances. “What happened?”
Before you could even open your mouth, the doors slammed open.
The air turned suffocating.
Every Omega in the room flinched.
And there he was—Ni-ki. A storm in human form, standing at the entrance with his eyes blown wide in rage and his scent turned foul, bitter and sour. His chest rose and fell in sharp bursts, and his jaw was locked so tight it looked like it might snap.
The other six Alphas followed behind him. Jay and Heeseung were at his heels, trying to talk him down.
“Ni-ki, you need to calm down,” Heeseung urged, voice low.
“You’re going to scare (Y/N),” Jay added, stepping closer. “Come on, kid.”
But Ni-ki wasn’t listening. He barely heard them.
Sunghoon stepped in before Heeseung could lunge after him again. “Let him be,” Sunghoon said, calm but firm. “He’s not going to hurt anyone. He needs to see her.”
Jungwon lingered behind them, visibly torn. His eyes flicked from Sunghoon to Jay, to Ni-ki, unsure of who to follow. His Alpha instincts were clashing—protect Ni-ki? Protect you? Pick a side?
Meanwhile, Sunoo’s eyes had narrowed dangerously, his posture stiff as he walked beside Jay. “You’re seriously going to let this slide?” he asked under his breath, furious. “Someone laid a hand on (Y/N) and no one’s doing anything?”
Ni-ki’s scent spiked again.
Ni-ki stormed across the room, the sound of his shoes echoing as he came to a full stop in front of you. His hands landed harshly on the arms of your chair—gripping tight, like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking something.
You didn’t meet his eyes, you couldn’t. Not when your cheek still ached and your pride was hanging on by a thread.
“Fuck,” Ni-ki hissed, voice low and raw. His head lowered, nose brushing the air just above your shoulder. “Who?”
You stayed silent, still refusing to look up.
“I need names, Omega,” he bit out, jaw clenching. “Right now.”
The room was silent, thick with tension and bitter Alpha scent. Even the other couldn’t speak—caught between instinct and logic.
“There are pros and cons to being a pureblooded Alpha,” Ni-ki ground out, every word dripping with restrained fury. “You know what the downside is?”
He pulled back just enough to let you see his face—eyes burning, lips pressed in a tight line.
“Stronger blood. Stronger instincts. Harder to fucking control.”
“Ni-ki,” Jay warned softly from behind, trying to reel him back. “You need to think rationally. You can't—”
But Ni-ki turned sharply, sending Jay a glare that made even the older Alpha tense.
Jay held his hands up, trying to stay neutral, but the twitch in his jaw gave him away. He was close to growling. Sunghoon placed a firm hand on Jay’s chest, stopping him.
Ni-ki turned back to you, breath shallow. “I said I need names. Who did this to you? Who fucking touched you?”
You didn’t flinch. You didn’t shrink away. But you didn’t answer either.
Ni-ki’s eyes shuttered, frustration curling in his throat. He looked at Jungwon—just one glance, and Jungwon understood.
Jungwon gave a single, sharp nod before clapping his hands once. “Everyone. Out.”
The room exploded into soft gasps and protests.
“Jungwon—” Jake’s mate started.
“Out,” Jungwon repeated, firm. “She needs space. He needs space.”
Sunoo’s mate grabbed Sunghoon’s mate by the wrist, muttering something about giving them a few minutes. Jay pulled his mate close and backed toward the door. Jake lingered, gaze flicking between you and Ni-ki before Jungwon tugged his arm.
And just like that, one by one, they all filed out. Until it was just you and Ni-ki.
He stood in front of you, still tense, chest rising and falling with each breath like he was forcing himself to stay grounded. He dropped to one knee, finally, carefully—slow enough that you realized this was him trying.
His hands reached for yours, hesitant, but he didn’t grab.
“(Y/N),” he said softly, finally—like your name was the only word that could calm him. “Please. Tell me.”
You inhaled shakily.
And then—slowly, finally—you lifted your gaze and met his eyes.
Your own were glossy, clouded with the emotion you’d been biting down for too long. But you swallowed hard, forcing it down, blinking quickly as if you could will the tears not to fall.
“I… I don’t know their names,” you admitted, shaking your head once. “But Jay’s mate does.”
Ni-ki’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t interrupt.
You glanced down at his hands—still kneeling, still holding yours with a gentleness that didn’t match the rage boiling in his scent. His thumbs moved over your knuckles, calming himself.
“I know they’re from the Han, Choi, Yoon, and Nam families,” you added carefully, your words deliberate, quiet. “All Omegas. All from our year.”
His expression didn’t change much—but his entire body seemed to lock into place, like every nerve had gone tight at once. He pressed his forehead against your intertwined hands. His breathing was ragged now.
You felt the tremble in his fingers before you heard the soft, barely-contained growl curling in his throat. “Why,” he whispered, voice cracking under the strain, “didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I had to find out through Jay’s mate,” he said, a low rasp. “I was halfway to the north wing when I got the text and—I should’ve been there.”
“Riki—”
“No,” he said sharply, pulling back just enough to look at you again.
His eyes were bloodshot. Unblinking. “You’re mine, Omega. Do you understand that? Mine to protect. Mine to stand in front of when people look at you wrong, let alone touch you.”
“And they dared lay hands on you?” he continued, voice hollow. “While I wasn’t there? While I was wasting time checking fucking booths and pretending I could focus on anything when I should’ve known something was wrong?”
He brought your hands up and pressed a kiss to your fingers—tender, but desperate.
“I would burn the entire world for you,” he whispered, his lips trembling against your knuckles. “And you think I wouldn’t rip through a few desperate, entitled Omegas?”
“Riki, it’s not about—”
“It is,” he said, a growl finally bleeding into the syllables. “This isn’t just some worthless drama, (Y/N). They crossed a line. They laid a hand on what’s mine.”
“All I’ve done is hold back.”
His voice was low now, sharp and fast like venom slipping through his fangs. “I’ve played nice. I’ve waited. I’ve controlled myself around people who didn’t deserve my restraint. And for what? So some egotistic Alpha prick could think he has the right to look at you like he has a chance?”
“So Riku thinks he’s some sort of god now?” he scoffed bitterly. “Thinks that just because he’s from the Maeda family and walks around like he owns the academy, he can steal you away from me?”
Ni-ki’s lip curled into something between a snarl and a heartbreak. “And those Omegas? Those girls who think they can corner you, question your worth, my feelings, my claim—”
He stood up, towering over you like a wall between you and the world. His chest was heaving, hands clenched into fists at his sides. The scent of burnt lime was still there—but calmer now.
“I have been patient,” he seethed, “when all I wanted was to scream to the world that you belong to me. That I would tear down anyone who so much as thought of touching you.”
He leaned forward slowly, one hand braced on the chair behind your head, the other gripping your jaw just gently enough to tilt your face to him. “So let me say it now, and let everyone hear me: You are mine.”
His forehead met yours again—harder this time, but not to hurt. To anchor. To swear a vow. You leaned forward, pressing back as much as you could in your seat, meeting him halfway even if it meant losing your breath.
How could you not match the fire in his gaze when every word he said was drenched in love—twisted and feral, but love nonetheless?
“I’m calling our families,” he muttered against your skin, voice so low you almost thought you imagined it. “After this. No more waiting.”
“We’re moving up the engagement announcement,” Ni-ki continued, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Tomorrow. No more long talks. No more letting people assume they have time to get between us.”
“I will not give them a single second longer to doubt you. Or me.” He straightened, his thumb brushing away the tear that slipped past your control. “I’ve waited long enough.”
You sat with your back straight, hands folded neatly on your lap, but it was obvious—your nerves were everywhere.
The large venue hall buzzed with low murmurs and flashing lights, cameras capturing every polished angle of the Nishimura Enterprises press conference. You sat beside Ni-ki in the front row, the only Omega seated beside the board’s Alpha heir—and everyone noticed.
On stage, Konon—Ni-ki’s older sister—cleared her throat and continued confidently, gesturing toward a digital chart on the screen behind her as she finished it up.
Applause echoed in the hall, polite and expected.
You were supposed to be in the academy right now. Checking booths. Chatting with Jungwon’s mate. Laughing with your friends and not… sitting in front of every broadcast journalist in the country.
You swallowed thickly, your hands curling just a little too tightly into the fabric of your dress pants.
All around you, cameras clicked—some subtle, some not. Every movement was being analyzed, every whisper caught by directional mics. News anchors from national stations muttered softly under their breath, piecing together a live feed, and you could already feel the headlines forming.
A gentle squeeze to your hand beneath the table, calloused fingers sliding against your palm like a lifeline. Ni-ki’s hand wrapped around yours with a quiet kind of fierceness.
You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch him leaning in.
He dipped his head low until his breath brushed your ear, voice soft—only for you.
“Are you okay?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
Your throat bobbed. “I—just… overwhelmed”
Ni-ki hummed in understanding, his thumb brushing small circles over the back of your hand. “I know. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “I wanted to. I need this to be over.”
“You’ve got nothing to prove to them,” he said, voice low and firm. “You just sit here, hold my hand, and look pretty like always.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Riki—”
“I mean it,” he said, smiling softly now. “Let them all talk. Let them watch. You’re mine. And this?”
He tilted his head toward the stage where his sister’s voice echoed through the room, still talking about market shares and quarterly projections.
“This is just noise. We’re the headline.”
You let out a breath, one that almost turned into a laugh. “You’re such a show-off.”
He grinned. “Only for you.”
You glanced around. The cameras had definitely caught that moment. But you didn’t care—not when Ni-ki was looking at you like that, like you were the center of his entire universe.
He leaned in once more, pressing a fleeting kiss to your temple, so quick you almost missed it. “Ten more minutes,” he promised, “and then I’m dragging you out of here. I heard there’s strawberry milk waiting for us in the car.”
You were just about to turn to him, the corners of your lips lifting, when—
“May I now call on Nishimura Riki and (L/N (Y/N) to come on the stage?” Konon’s voice boomed through the venue, calm and commanding through the microphone. The murmuring in the room rose in volume, camera flashes flickering like fireflies.
Ni-ki sighed softly, squeezing your hand one last time before standing. “Well, there goes our exit plan.”
He straightened his posture and extended his arm toward you with a slight smirk. “Shall we?”
You looped your arm through his without hesitation, letting him pull you gently to your feet. Despite the swell of eyes and lights on you, his presence kept you steady. His other hand hovered protectively at your back as he guided you through the aisle, careful to keep pace with your steps.
“I told you not to wear those heels,” he whispered lowly, glancing down with a frown at the strappy, elegant but clearly uncomfortable shoes. “You’re barely walking, angel.”
“They matched the dress,” you whispered back.
“They match nothing if you trip on the stairs.”
You bit back a laugh as you both climbed onto the stage, the applause swelling around you. Konon greeted the two of you with a polite nod and a knowing smile. Her poised, professional demeanor didn’t hide the subtle glance she gave your intertwined hands.
Without waiting, Ni-ki took the mic from his sister with a nod of thanks, standing tall in front of the crowd of stakeholders, executives, journalists, and live-stream viewers.
“Good afternoon,” he began, voice smooth, practiced—but still very him. “I’m Nishimura Riki, and on behalf of my family, I’d like to extend our deepest gratitude for your support of Nishimura Enterprises and its many developments these past months.”
A pause.
“And while today is a celebration of progress and success, I’d like to take this moment to share something… more personal.”
He turned to look at you. The lights made his eyes shine.
“With the blessing and push from both of our families,” he continued, voice firmer now, “I would like to announce my engagement to (L/N) (Y/N).”
The entire venue erupted in noise. Flashes exploded from every direction. Voices overlapped—cheers, gasps, even a few stunned laughs. The applause felt deafening, but you didn’t flinch. You were used to it.
What you weren’t used to was the way Ni-ki looked at you in that moment—not just as the Nishimura heir, not just as your Alpha—but as your best friend since you were both kids building castles out of pillows in your living rooms, hiding away from the pressure of your last names.
You turned slightly to face the crowd, and when you spoke, your voice came out warm and composed.
“We’ve known each other since we were too short to reach the kitchen counter,” you said with a soft smile. “And even back then, Riki always looked out for me. From scraped knees to late-night calls to strawberry milk after long days… he’s always been there.”
You felt him smile beside you.
“And now,” you continued, “I’m honored to be by his side—not just as his partner, but as someone who believes in the future we’ll build together.”
Ni-ki nodded once, like you’d just said the exact thing his heart was holding. He leaned toward you subtly, just enough that your shoulders brushed, and whispered, “You were perfect.”
“You’re biased,” you whispered back.
“I’m yours,” he replied, and even with all the noise, all the lights, and all the eyes watching—you swore it was just the two of you on that stage.
Another wave of applause erupted like thunder, sweeping through the grand venue. From the reserved family section near the front, your parents stood—smiles stretched wide across their faces—clapping with such pride and joy it made your chest ache. Beside them, the Nishimuras, regal and composed, mirrored the same warmth, their approval unmistakable.
Ni-ki’s eyes didn’t leave yours.
His hand gently tugged you closer, your sides brushing as the lights above cast a golden hue around your figures. He smiled down at you—real, soft, the kind that only you got to see when no one else was looking.
And you, unable to help the emotion building in your chest, looked up at him with eyes full of everything you’d never been able to say out loud before.
Your lips parted, voice quiet but certain as it reached him despite the noise.
SYNOPSIS ⦂ You've never fit in. That much was true. Always feeling like the odd one out in your friend group. But when you're told to your face, well everything becomes more clear. Suddenly, every sidelong glance, every pity laugh, every party invitation that felt like a mistake, makes a little more sense. But it still stings. Especially when it comes to Soobin; sweet, soft-spoken, out-of-your-league Soobin, who doesn’t even know you exist beyond the orbit of your prettier friends. Enter Heeseung: campus golden boy, effortlessly charming, dangerously smug. He’s the type of guy who knows exactly how attractive he is — and how to use it. When he overhears your predicament (okay, maybe you yell about it a little too loudly in the hallway), he makes you an offer: he’ll help you reinvent yourself, rewrite your story, and finally get Soobin’s attention. In exchange? You’ll tutor him through senior lit, a class he's on the verge of flunking. You agree, of course. What could possibly go wrong?
PAIRINGS: heeseung x fem!reader
WARNINGS: smut mdni, virginity loss, jealousy, alcohol use, mean girls, talk of toxic beauty standards, college setting, ft Dani (katseye), Sakura (le sserafim), Soobin (txt), jay, sunghoon, jake, beomgyu (txt), wonyoung (ive), angst, slight miscommunication + more i’m probably forgetting.
WORD COUNT: 28K
RAIN'S MIC IS ON ࿐ haiii this is based on the movie "the duff" i wanted to give this a fun and very like early 2000s rom-comy vibes!! I do want to note especially that i do not support the toxic mindset that makeup and no glasses and dressing slutty automatically makes you more visually appealing, i think that's a mindset we should be letting go of but for the sake of fiction, it will be playing a part in this. Just a reminder that everyone is beautiful no matter what you wear or what you look like. Wear makeup if you want, or don't. Glasses do not equal ugly and nerdy. Also in this, i shortened “DUFF” to “DUF” because even in fiction i don’t feel comfortable saying “fat” so in my version it just means “designated ugly friend” which is still eh, but again for the sake of fiction it will have to do, Please remember those standards are out dated. Love you all hope you have fun with this like i did (: thank you so much to my love @yeonmuse for helping make the banner, she’s so talented check her out guys.
You’re not sure why you came.
The music pulses like a second heartbeat as you linger in the doorway of the house, the bass reverberating through your ribcage. Inside, it’s packed wall-to-wall with bodies moving in a chaotic kind of harmony, shoulders brushing, drinks sloshing, laughter climbing over music like ivy. You follow the familiar trail of your best friends, Dani and Sakura, as they dive headfirst into the party’s epicenter. They're already laughing with someone, effortlessly folding themselves into a circle of golden-lit conversation. You’re left in the doorway like static caught on the edge of a signal, half-there, mostly invisible. You try to speak, to jump into the flow, but your voice is swallowed by the noise.
Dani’s turning her head too fast, Sakura’s already moving on to a new story. It’s not their fault. They love you. They try; they always do. But in places like this, where charisma is currency and the loudest person wins, you always come up short. You’re the comma in their sentence. The pause between moments.
Eventually, Dani hooks her arm through yours and grins. “Come on. Let’s get some air.” You let them lead you outside, where the music softens behind glass doors and the cool night air brushes against your skin. The wooden deck is lit by string lights and scented faintly of smoke and expensive cologne. And that’s when you see them; The it boys on campus, Leaning against the railing like some untouchable constellation: Heeseung, Beomgyu, Sunghoon, Jay, and Jake. Each one a caricature of cool in different flavors. Beomgyu’s laughing with his head thrown back. Jake is draped over the deck chair like he owns it. Sunghoon and Jay are mid-story. And then there’s Heeseung, casual arrogance wrapped in black denim and a hoodie pushed halfway up his forearms.
The moment the girls approach, everyone shifts to accommodate them, the circle expanding like ripples on water. You find yourself next to Heeseung, who throws you a brief glance that feels like an assessment. His gaze dips for a second to your glasses and lingers. You know that look. You’ve seen it before in classrooms and locker-lined hallways. The look that decides exactly who you are in the span of two seconds and four syllables: nerd. Unworthy of any and all social interaction beside incandescent teasing. How comical that was. “You guys,” Heeseung says, in that smooth, drawling voice that makes everything he says sound vaguely amused, “Mr. Yoon was on my ass today. Said if I bomb this next lit paper, he’s yanking my scholarship. Like, sorry I don’t care about symbolism in 18th-century poetry, man.”
Sakura perks up, turning to look at you. “Wait She’s amazing at lit! Like, scary good.”
“She tutors people all the time,” Dani adds, nudging you playfully. You blink, caught mid-sip of something lukewarm in a red cup, and find five pairs of curious eyes settling on you. Including his.
Heeseung’s lip quirks. “Oh, I’m sure she is.”
You narrow your eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He gestures loosely toward your face, vaguely circling your glasses. “Nothing. Just, you’ve got that whole bookish prodigy vibe. You know. Brainiac chic.”
“Brainiac chic?” You raise an eyebrow. “That’s your insult? Do you even have a GPA?” His friends snicker. Jake lets out a low “oooh,” and Beomgyu slaps Heeseung on the back like he’s just taken a hit.
Heeseung, unfazed, smiles lazily. “Touché. Though, I’m not the one who just quoted my GPA like it’s a flex.” You can’t help the way your lip twitches. You shouldn’t enjoy this. You do. Heeseung is irritating. Arrogant. Infuriatingly pretty. But he’s listening. He’s bantering back. In this weird, warped little moment, you almost feel like you matter.
And then he walks up. Soobin. You spot him from the corner of your eye, tall and soft around the edges, dressed in an oversized hoodie that somehow still makes him look like a dream. His hair’s a little messy like he ran his hands through it too many times, and his smile; God, his smile, curls up slow when he sees your group. He says something to Jake, who waves him over, and then he’s standing in your circle, next to you, and your brain short-circuits. You try to say hi, but it comes out as a hiccuped squeak. Your voice cracks in three different places, and as if fate hadn’t humiliated you enough, you flinch backward and knock your elbow straight into the flimsy drink table behind you. The cup in your hand slips, spins midair, and splashes all over your shirt in one mortifying arc.
Soobin blinks. Heeseung stares. You feel the heat crawl up your neck like a flame eating paper. Someone offers you a napkin, Dani, maybe — but it doesn’t matter. You’re already backing away. “I—I’m gonna go,” you mumble. “I’ll see you guys later.” You turn before anyone can say anything else, your heartbeat thudding in your ears, the deck already blurry with shame. Behind you, the laughter starts again, soft, harmless, not mean, not really; but it doesn't matter. You’re already gone. And you have no idea how this mess is only just beginning.
The next morning arrives not like a promise, but like a punishment. The sun is too bright, the sky too smugly blue, like even the weather knows what happened last night. You drag yourself across campus wrapped in oversized layers, hoodie strings pulled tight around your face like armor. You haven't checked your phone since the party. Not because it hasn’t lit up — it has, but because you can’t bear to face the missed calls and texts blinking like tiny sirens across the screen. Dani: “hey, are you okay?” Sakura: “babe, call us pls.” A voicemail you didn’t dare open. It’s all waiting for you like unopened letters from a version of yourself that doesn’t exist anymore.
Because last night, you crumbled in front of Soobin. You keep replaying it like a cursed tape in your head: the way your voice cracked, the look of gentle confusion on his face, the splash of cheap punch soaking through your shirt like a scarlet stamp of shame. You can still feel the sting of it; hot, sticky, humiliating. You picture the exact moment his eyes met yours and how quickly you broke, like a window catching a stone at the wrong angle. You didn’t even say goodbye to Dani or Sakura. Just ran. Just let the night swallow you whole. And now, in the cruel light of day, everything feels worse.
Your footsteps echo a little too loudly on the concrete path through campus. You keep your head down, gaze locked on your shoes as the crowds blur around you in streaks of motion and color. But you feel them; eyes. Not direct. Not obvious. Just there. Flicking toward you. Lingering. Someone lets out a muffled laugh as you pass. You tell yourself it has nothing to do with you, but the way your stomach clenches betrays you. It’s a peculiar kind of spotlight, being noticed for all the wrong reasons. You’re used to being invisible, not mocked. You never asked for attention, never needed a stage. But now you’re walking through campus like a meme brought to life, like the punchline of a joke you didn’t know you were telling. You pass a group of students lounging on the lawn. One nudges the other. Another whispers something behind a hand. Laughter. It could be about anything. It could be nothing. But you flinch like it’s a slap to the face. So you keep walking, keep shrinking.
Your classroom isn’t far, but the distance feels endless. Like the stretch of hallway in a nightmare where your legs move but you never get anywhere. When you finally reach the door, your hands tremble as you pull it open, slipping inside with all the urgency of someone trying to outrun their own shadow. The air inside is still and cold, the hum of fluorescents a dull buzz in your ears. You’re too wrapped in your own spiral to notice where your feet take you. The room is already half full, students murmuring over open laptops, pens clicking like insects in early spring. You move on autopilot, slipping into the first empty seat you see near the back, hoping the distance from the front will buy you some much-needed invisibility.
But the moment you set your bag down and glance to your left, the universe decides to play its favorite game, humiliation, round two. Because there he is. Lee Heeseung. Slouched in his chair with all the grace of someone who’s never had to try too hard, hoodie sleeves pushed up again like it’s a personal brand, one knee bouncing lazily. His arm’s draped over the back of the chair, dangerously close to yours, and he’s already looking at you when you meet his eyes, eyebrow raised, lips curled in that signature smirk that could make a mirror blush. “Well, well,” he says, low and smug. “Couldn’t get enough of me, could you?” You blink, brain short-circuiting for half a second before the sarcasm kicks in like muscle memory.
“Oh, absolutely,” you say, your voice dry as dust. “I just had to sit next to the guy who thinks MLA formatting is a type of sandwich.” Heeseung whistles through his teeth, hand pressed to his heart like you wounded him. “Wow. Vicious. No wonder you’re single.”
Without missing a beat, you smile sweetly, and flip him off. And that’s what does it. Heeseung bursts out laughing. Not a scoff. Not a half-chuckle. A full-bodied, belly-deep laugh that shakes his shoulders and lights up his whole stupidly handsome face. It’s loud, too; sharp enough to draw a few curious glances from the rows in front of you. Someone turns around. Another student raises an eyebrow. But Heeseung just throws his head back and laughs, like you’re the funniest thing to ever happen to 9 a.m. lit. And somehow, against your will, a laugh bubbles out of you, too.
Just a snort at first, barely more than breath. But it grows, because you can’t help it, because it was kind of funny, because maybe you’re so bone-tired from crying that anything even slightly absurd feels like a lifeline. You laugh into your palm, trying to hide it, but that only makes Heeseung grin wider. “See?” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow. “I knew you liked me.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re delusional.”
“And yet,” he hums, “here you are.”You shake your head, biting back another smile—and for a second, just a second, you don’t care that people are still glancing at the two of you. You don’t care that your shirt from last night is crumpled in your laundry basket or that the video of you spilling punch may or may not be circling the group chat. You don’t care that your friends probably think you’re ghosting them. Because for this one moment, there’s no spotlight. No pressure.
The rest of the class unfolds in a quiet, uninterrupted hum. The professor drones on about motifs and metaphor, and your pen finally scratches to life again. Heeseung doesn’t speak after that, not really, but you can feel the lingering heat of his presence beside you, like a low flame that won’t go out. You catch yourself glancing his way more than once. He catches you every time.
Class ends in a quiet unraveling. You gather your things slowly, letting the rows of students trickle out ahead of you like a stream smoothing stone. Heeseung’s already up, stretching his arms over his head in that effortless way that shouldn't be allowed this early in the day. He tosses you a wink as he moves toward the door, and you pretend to roll your eyes, even as something traitorous inside you flutters like a curtain caught in wind. You follow the flow of students into the hallway, hoping to blend in. Hoping, maybe foolishly, that today might end on a quieter note.
But fate has sharp teeth.
A manicured hand taps your shoulder just as you pass beneath the atrium light, and when you turn, you’re met with a smile so sugar-slick and venom-laced it makes your spine stiffen on instinct. Jang Wonyoung. She’s standing in front of you like a statue carved from polished ambition, long legs, glossy hair, not a flaw in sight. Her clothes are designer without needing to scream it, her lip gloss a shade too pink to be innocent. She oozes confidence, curated and sharpened to a point. And you know who she is — everyone does. She’s not just the most popular girl on campus, she’s the one people orbit around. She’s the center of gravity in every room she enters. You’ve never spoken to her before.
“You’re friends with Dani and Sakura, right?” she says sweetly, voice as light as powdered sugar.
You blink, caught off guard. “Uh… yeah,” you answer, nodding a little too quickly, nerves flaring. “I am.” Her smile doesn’t change, but something behind her eyes hardens. Shifts. It’s like watching a rose bloom only to realize the thorns are still sharper than the petals. She tilts her head slightly, and for a moment, you almost wonder if this is some kind of polite small talk. But then she leans in just enough for her perfume to ghost past your cheek; something expensive and calculated, and her voice drops to a murmur, low and cruel.
“Don’t think for one second you have a chance with Heeseung.” She blinks, lashes fluttering like knives. “DUF.” You freeze. The letters don’t click at first. They hang there in the air between you, meaningless and jagged. You open your mouth, confusion spilling out in a quiet stammer. “Wait — what’s a DUF?”
Wonyoung’s smile stretches wider, and it’s not a smile at all now. It’s the curve of something about to cut. “DUF isn’t a name. It’s what you are,” she purrs. “Designated Ugly Friend.” You stare, the words crashing into you like sleet against glass. You don’t even flinch; not yet. You’re too stunned, too caught between disbelief and dawning horror to react. Your throat tightens. Her words burrow under your skin, cold and gleaming. “You’re always with Dani and Sakura,” she continues, still smiling like this is all just a casual observation, like she’s not peeling your dignity apart with her manicured fingers. “They’re hot. Like, objectively. You’re just… there. To make them look better. That’s your role. Know your place.”
You open your mouth again, breath hitching in protest. “My name is—” But she cuts you off, voice turning sharper, all pretense abandoned.
“DUF,” she repeats, slow and deliberate. “And Heeseung? He’s out of your league. So do everyone a favor, babe, and stay away from him.” She gives you one last look; final, dismissive, like you were never really worth seeing at all, and then she’s turning on her heel, walking away like she just dropped a bomb and is already bored of the smoke. And you — you just stand there. Your heartbeat thuds in your ears like a drum played out of rhythm. Your feet feel rooted to the tile, your hands limp at your sides, notebook barely clutched in your grip. It’s as if the world has narrowed to a single hallway, a single moment, and Wonyoung’s words are etched on the walls around you. DUF.
You’ve never heard it before. Not like that. Not named. But now that it’s been said, now that it’s out in the open, it echoes. It colors everything. It twists last night into a sick joke, replays every photo you’ve stood in between Dani and Sakura, every party where you stood off to the side. You see yourself through Wonyoung’s eyes, and the reflection stings. You don’t cry. Not yet. The tears are waiting, crouched behind your ribs, but you won’t let them win. Not in this hallway. Not here. You just swallow hard, lower your head, and walk, each step heavier than the last, as if you’re trying to carry the weight of someone else’s cruelty on your shoulders. And all the while, her words stay with you like a brand: Know your place.
You don’t remember how you got there. One moment you were frozen in that hallway, still tasting Wonyoung’s words on the back of your tongue like something spoiled and sour. The next, you’re seated at the farthest computer in the campus lab, shoulders hunched, the too-bright monitor casting a cold glow across your face. Around you, students move in hushed clicks and muted coughs, the clatter of keyboards filling the silence like light rain. No one looks your way. No one ever does. It’s what you wanted, right? To disappear? To be invisible? But not like this. Your fingers tremble as they hover over the keyboard, uncertain, like they already know what you’re about to unearth. You type DUF first, because that’s what she said. That’s what she called you. The letters feel clunky and unfamiliar, like a language you were never meant to understand. When nothing pops up, you frown, your pulse quickening.
And then, like the knife finally finding skin, it hits you. And the world splits open. The page fills with links, slang dictionaries, gossip forums, teen advice articles, old Reddit threads dissecting high school hierarchies like scientific taxonomy. You click the first video out of instinct, and a girl on the screen, barely older than you, leans into the camera with a sad smile and says, “The DUF is the Designated Ugly Friend. You’re the least attractive in your friend group, the approachable one, the funny one, the one guys talk to only to get to your prettier friends.” You freeze. Her voice continues, but it becomes background noise to the storm inside your chest. Your heartbeat hammers against your ribs like it wants to escape, and suddenly your body feels far too small for what you’re carrying.
Your fingers move on their own, clicking through link after link like each one might offer a different definition, something softer, something kind. But they don’t. They all echo the same gutting truth. The DUF is the one who fills the empty space. The background character in her own life. The girl who exists not for herself, but as contrast, to make her friends shine brighter by comparison. You feel it like a bruise blooming across your entire being. Memories rise unbidden, like film reels unspooling behind your eyes. The nights out where you stood at the edge of a circle, holding jackets and drinks while Dani and Sakura danced with boys who barely spared you a glance. The time a guy asked you for Sakura’s number while you were still in the middle of a sentence. The photos you’d be cropped out of, the stories you weren’t included in, the parties where you stood on the periphery like a shadow no one noticed.
You thought it was just how things were. You thought maybe you were just quieter. Shyer. Less hungry for attention. But now the pieces fit. Too well. And what guts you, what truly guts you, is the realization that maybe — just maybe — they knew. Dani and Sakura. Your best friends. Did they know what DUF meant? Had they heard it tossed around and just… never told you? Had they laughed about it with others, let it live in whispers while you smiled beside them, oblivious? Were you some inside joke dressed in loyalty? Did they ever look at you and feel sorry? Or worse, did they agree?
The nausea coils in your stomach like a slow-moving wave, threatening to rise. You press your palm to your chest, as if you can keep yourself from unraveling entirely. Your vision swims. The sterile blue of the lab feels too bright, too loud, too full of all the wrong kinds of silence. You’re still staring at the glowing screen, that same sentence blinking back at you like a taunt: “The DUFF is the one nobody notices until they need something.” Your throat tightens. You don’t want to be in this body. In this moment. In this story.
You slam the laptop shut without ceremony. The sharp clap of it draws a glance from a boy a few chairs down, but you don’t care. You’re already yanking your bag from the floor, stuffing your notebook inside with shaking hands. Your fingers are clumsy, rushed, like you’re trying to outrun a tidal wave that’s already crashing through you. You need air. You need to move. You need to not be here, not be seen. The walk out of the lab is a blur of cold tiles and humming machines. Your steps echo like betrayal. Like every footfall might draw more eyes, more whispers, more invisible hands pointing in your direction. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you taste salt.
Not the loud, sobbing kind of cry. No, this is something quieter. A leak in the dam. A silent surrender. The kind of crying that happens when the weight of the world doesn’t come crashing down in one dramatic moment; but seeps in, slow and steady, drop by drop, until you’re drowning. You step outside, wind slicing at your face, the sky too wide, too open. You feel small in a way you can’t describe. Not just physically, existentially. Like someone cracked your reflection and you’re left staring at the pieces wondering if any of it was ever real. And in the back of your mind, like a cruel echo still clinging to the walls of your skull, her voice repeats: Know your place, DUF.
The first thing you do after leaving the computer lab is search. You needed to see Dani and Sakura. You find them exactly where you knew they’d be. The C building’s hallway is packed, echoing with the end-of-period rush. Footsteps slap against the floors in every direction. Lockers clang open and shut, laughter weaves in and out of the noise like a skipping stone. The scent of dry erase markers, mint gum, and cheap coffee lingers in the air. But it all feels distant to you, muted, irrelevant. Like you’re underwater, moving through the crowd on instinct, not thought. And then, through the blur of motion and sound, you see them. Dani and Sakura.
The two girls you’ve called your best friends since freshman year. The ones who’ve seen you through breakups, panic attacks, late-night cramming sessions and slow, sleepy Sunday brunches. The ones who claimed to love you. They’re standing outside their chemistry lecture, laughing at something; Sakura’s head thrown back, Dani’s hip nudging hers. It’s such a familiar picture that for a split second, you hesitate. For a split second, your brain lies to you. Maybe they don’t know. Maybe Wonyoung was wrong. Maybe everything was just some cruel misunderstanding. But your heart knows better. You push through the crowd with the desperation of someone chasing the truth, and the second your voice cuts through the air, they turn to you, your hair wild from the wind, breath ragged from running, eyes rimmed with something between fury and heartbreak. “Did you guys know?”
The words tumble out too fast, ragged at the edges, raw like a wound. They both blink at you, confusion washing over their faces like clouds across sunlight. “Know what?” Sakura asks slowly, brow furrowing. Dani’s already stepping forward, hand brushing your arm gently, like she’s afraid you might shatter on contact. “What are you talking about?”
And then you say it; louder than you meant to, louder than you ever thought you’d say anything in public. “Did you know I’m your fucking DUF?” The hallway doesn’t go silent, but it feels like it does. Their faces freeze, and you see it instantly, the flicker of recognition in Sakura’s eyes, the tightness in Dani’s jaw. It’s not confusion now. It’s not disbelief. It’s guilt. Guilt. They look at each other. It’s barely a glance, half a heartbeat, but it’s all the confirmation you need. Something in your chest gives, a sickening drop that feels like the floor vanishing beneath your feet.
Your voice splinters when you speak again. “What? Are you just friends with me because you feel bad for me?” Your words hang in the air like smoke, heavy and choking. Dani’s eyes widen, her mouth opening like she’s about to say something, anything but you see the panic settle across her face. She wasn’t ready for this. They never expected you to find out. They never thought you’d ask.
“That’s not—” Sakura starts, then stops.
Dani shakes her head fast, her voice stumbling over itself. “That’s not true. Don’t say that.”
“Then why?” you ask, louder now, pain bubbling up from somewhere deep and long-buried. “Why did you always brush me off when I said I liked Soobin? Why did you laugh when I said I thought he might like me back? Why did you look at me like I was crazy?” They don't answer. Not really. They just look at you with wide eyes and silence thick between them.
“You didn’t think I was pretty enough,” you say, and your voice cracks right down the middle. Dani swallows. Her hands are wringing the strap of her backpack like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She steps closer again, gentler this time, quieter. “We don’t think you’re ugly,” she says, the words coming slowly, like they hurt her to say. “It’s just… you could try a little harder, you know? Like, you don’t really… put effort in.” The air leaves your lungs in a rush.
You feel it physically, like someone just knocked the wind out of you, punched a hole in your chest and left it gaping open for everyone to see. The people around you are still moving, still living their lives, but all you can hear is the echo of those words: try harder. As if your entire existence hasn’t been one long effort to be enough. And before you can respond, Sakura adds, “You’re just… not Soobin’s type, that’s all.” You blink. Your mind blanks. Your heart is already in pieces, but that line cracks the rest of you open.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” you ask, your voice trembling, not with fear, but with something deeper, more dangerous. Rage wrapped in heartbreak. Sakura falters. She opens her mouth, but no answer comes out. Dani shifts uncomfortably beside her. Their faces are pale now, eyes darting around, noticing for the first time how many people are starting to look. How many are pretending not to listen. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to undo every moment of vulnerability you ever gave them. But more than anything, you want to run. Because staying here, standing in this hallway, heart bared like a wound while the people you loved carve you apart, hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt. You shake your head slowly, backing away from them as the tears begin to fall in earnest. “I thought you were my friends,” you whisper, and then louder, “I trusted you.” Dani reaches out again, but this time you pull back. You don’t want her comfort. You don’t want her pity. You don’t want to hear another word. So you turn. And you walk.
You don’t care that people are watching. You don’t care that your shoulders are shaking, that your tears are spilling freely now, or that your bag keeps slipping down your arm. You walk faster, pushing through the crowd until the voices blur behind you, until the memory of their faces fades into the roar of everything breaking apart. And as you go, the thought haunts you, echoing over and over in your skull: They knew. They knew. They knew. And they never told you.
The doors to the C building groan shut behind you, sealing away the voices, the stares, the wreckage. But the damage doesn’t stay inside. It clings to you, stitched into your skin like frostbite; cold, deep, and invisible to everyone else. The sting of betrayal coils inside your chest, twisting tighter with every step you take. Your breathing’s uneven. Not quite sobbing, but close. That awful in-between sound, caught in your throat like a scream that refuses to come out. The air outside is biting, too cold for early fall, but you hardly notice. It brushes your cheeks like ghost hands, cuts through your sweater, lifts the ends of your hair, nothing reaches you. Not really. You're numb in a way that feels permanent, like someone turned the volume of the world all the way down and you forgot how to turn it back up.
People pass by, some look, some don’t. A few recognize you, eyes flickering with half-curiosity, half-concern, but no one says anything. And thank god for that, because if anyone did, if even one person tried to ask if you were okay, you think you'd crumble. Right there on the sidewalk. Crumple like paper and never get back up again. The walk from the C building to your dorm stretches impossibly long. Every step is heavier than the last, as if the weight of Dani and Sakura’s words is dragging behind you, chained to your ankles. You replay it all, the glances, the hesitations, the way Dani looked away when you asked if they knew, the way Sakura's voice sounded too rehearsed, like she’d already decided what version of the truth you were allowed to hear.
“You could try harder.”
“You’re just not his type.”
Those words circle you like vultures. You can’t outrun them. You can’t out-walk what’s inside your chest. By the time you reach the dorm building, you’re shaking. Not from the cold, but from everything else. Rage. Shame. Heartbreak. All of it, bottled and clinking against your ribs like glass ready to shatter. Your key slips once in the door before you finally shove it in and turn, stumbling down the hall to your room like you’ve just escaped a storm only to find another waiting inside. You push the door open and don’t bother turning on the lights. You don’t take your shoes off. You don’t put your bag down. You don’t think. You just collapse.
Straight onto your bed, face-first, like gravity’s been waiting all day for you to break. The mattress groans under the weight of your body, the quiet rustle of blankets the only sound in the room. But even that silence feels loud. And then — finally — you scream. It’s muffled into your pillow, soaked into the cotton and foam, but it rips through you like it’s been building for years. A scream made of all the things you couldn’t say in that hallway. All the pain you swallowed down so no one would see you break. All the confusion, all the loneliness, all the self-doubt bubbling up into one long, raw, aching sound.
You scream because you thought they were your people.
You scream because you believed, deeply, that you were loved.
You scream because you didn’t know you were being pitied.
And when your voice finally gives out, when your throat goes raw and your breathing hitches in the dark, you don’t move. You just lie there, curled into yourself like something wounded, like you could shrink so small the world might forget you were ever here. Your pillow is damp now, tears soaking through it, hot and angry. You clutch it tighter like it might hold you together. For the first time in a long time, you feel completely and utterly alone. And the scariest part? You're not even sure who you can talk to anymore. Who’s left. Who actually sees you. Because the people you trusted the most already proved they never did.
The morning light is a pale, washed-out gray, soft and dull like an old photograph, like something that’s been wrung out of color and left to dry. You move through campus like a ghost, every step stiff and heavy, your limbs still echoing with the ache of yesterday’s unraveling. Sleep had barely kissed you the night before. It lingered at the edges of your consciousness but never quite arrived, chased away by looping memories, sharp-edged phrases, and the hollow ache in your chest where trust used to live. You’ve walked this path to Literature 204 a hundred times, maybe more. But today it feels different. The air around you feels thicker somehow, like it knows what happened, like the whole campus has been whispering about you while your back was turned. You keep your head low, hands shoved deep into the sleeves of your hoodie, as if retreating into yourself will make you smaller, less visible, less whatever-the-hell-you-are-now. The DUF. The outcast. The joke.
When you finally step into the lecture hall, it’s mostly empty, the way it always is ten minutes before class starts. The lights are half-dimmed, flickering in patches as if still waking up themselves. A few early birds have already staked their seats, nose-deep in books, airpods in, sipping lukewarm coffee out of dented thermoses. And then, of course, there’s him. Heeseung. You spot him near the front, standing beside Mr. Yoon’s desk. They’re speaking in hushed tones, but the words carry in this room where the ceilings are too high and silence feels sacred. You hadn’t meant to listen, you weren’t trying to eavesdrop, but your ears catch on the tension in their voices, the frustration curling at the edges of Heeseung’s sentences. You hear fragments. Tutor. Flunk. Drop out. Phrases that sound too final, too heavy for someone who always seemed so effortless.
You tell yourself not to care. You’ve got your own storm to navigate. You slide into your usual seat halfway up the rows, far enough to disappear, close enough to hear, and drop your bag beside you with a sigh. Your heart still feels raw, your stomach still tied in knots. You’re exhausted in a way that no amount of sleep can fix. And then you hear his footsteps. Heeseung doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t scan the room for alternatives. He just makes a beeline straight for you and drops into the seat beside yours like it’s his god-given right. His presence is large, like it always is, broad shoulders draped in a hoodie two sizes too big, the scent of citrus cologne and coffee trailing behind him like something you could trip on. Usually, there’s a quip on his lips, something smug and irritating and just a little too charming. But today he’s quiet. And so are you.
For a long moment, nothing passes between you but breath. The quiet around you folds in like a cocoon, the only sounds the low murmur of Mr. Yoon gathering his notes and the soft click of someone’s mechanical pencil two rows back. And then, Heeseung leans back with a sigh and says, “Quite the spectacle you had going for you yesterday.”
You groan before you can stop yourself, dragging a hand over your face like you could scrub the memory out of existence. Your eyes narrow as you turn to him, voice sharp with lingering humiliation. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He’s already grinning, his mouth tilted up in that signature way that makes you want to slap him and kiss him at the same time, not that you’d ever admit that out loud. “Relax,” he says, stretching his arms lazily over his head. “I just mean, you, Sakura, and Dani? Everyone’s talking about it. It was, like, the hallway soap opera of the year.”
Your cheeks burn. You can feel the blood rising in your face like fire licking at your skin. Of course people were talking. Of course the entire goddamn campus probably had a front-row seat to your implosion. “Great,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest, “exactly what I needed, public humiliation on top of personal betrayal.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, like it isn’t your entire world unraveling. But then, out of nowhere, he asks, “How long have you had a thing for Soobin?”
Your heart skips. Not in a cute, rom-com way. In a fuck, how does he know that kind of way. You blink, caught off guard, mouth fumbling for a denial that won’t sound like a lie. “I don’t, what are you even talking about?” He just smirks, eyes glinting with quiet mischief. “Come on. I’m not an idiot. The way you looked at him at that party? Like he was your last meal. It was kinda cute.”
Your stomach turns, part mortification, part defensiveness. “Why do you even care?” Heeseung shrugs again, but this time there’s something more calculated behind his gaze. “Because I think I can help you.”
You raise a brow. “Help me?”
“You like Soobin. Soobin doesn’t even know your name. I know what guys like him want, hell, I am guys like him,” he says, voice dipped in arrogance that somehow still doesn’t feel entirely cruel. “I could get you there. Make him see you. Want you.” You let out a sharp laugh, humorless and jagged. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not really in the mood to turn myself into a Barbie doll just to impress a guy.”
“Suit yourself,” Heeseung says easily, turning back toward the front of the room like he couldn’t care less. “But when Soobin’s off making out with someone like Yunjin behind the gym, don’t come crying to me.” That line strikes like lightning, quick, bright, and unmistakably true. Because you have seen Soobin talking to Yunjin lately. Smiling. Laughing. He held the door open for her last week and you felt like your heart was trying to crawl out of your throat. And now the thought of him kissing her, or anyone, while you’re still sitting on the sidelines hoping for a miracle? It makes something sharp twist in your chest.
You chew on the inside of your cheek, arms crossed tighter now, and Heeseung must sense your hesitation because he glances sideways again. “I’m just saying,” he murmurs, this time softer. “You help me pass lit, I help you not be invisible. Easy.” It’s insane. It’s humiliating. It’s kind of insulting, if you think about it long enough. But it’s also… tempting. Because what other option do you have? Soobin doesn’t know you exist. Your friends, the ones who were supposed to build you up, have already torn you down. And Heeseung, for all his cockiness, sees you. Maybe not the way you want to be seen. But still.
Slowly, you turn your palm upward between you. He grins, all teeth and trouble, and slides his hand into yours. You shake. And just like that, the deal is struck.
The evening sun sinks past the dorm window like a sigh, casting the whole room in the soft gold of a day exhaling. You’re curled up on your bed in an oversized hoodie, legs crossed, a nearly-empty takeout container of bulgogi balanced dangerously on your thigh. The smell of garlic and soy sauce clings to the air like a second blanket, and you don’t care. You’ve earned this. You’ve survived this week, barely, and now you’re self-soothing with salty meat and zero regrets. Your phone buzzes once against the sheets beside you. You ignore it at first. Probably Dani or Sakura again. Their texts have been coming in slow waves all day; apologies, explanations, questions that aren’t really questions. You’ve left them on read, unread, ignored altogether. You’re not ready. You don’t know when you will be. But the phone buzzes again. And then again. Finally, with a huff, you set your chopsticks down and snatch the device up. It’s not a contact you recognize, just a random number. But the message?
[Unknown Number]
what are you doing tomorrow?
You blink. Narrow your eyes. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, halfway to typing who is this when another text lands:
[ heeseung ]
it’s heeseung
Duh.
And wow. Of course he wouldn’t lead with an introduction. Or an ounce of normal human decorum. You don’t even remember giving him your number; maybe it was one of those group projects last semester or maybe he’s just unsettlingly resourceful. Either way, you're already rolling your eyes. You type back, begrudgingly.
[ you ]
nothing. why?
There’s barely a pause before the dots start dancing again.
[ heeseung ]
i’m taking you shopping and then we’re going to a party, you’ll wear what we buy and pretend to be hot for once. You nearly drop your phone into your bulgogi. You stare at the screen for a second too long, as if the sheer arrogance of his words might combust it in your hands. Shopping? Party? Pretend to be hot?
[ you ]
what the hell does “pretend to be hot” mean???
[ heeseung ]
it means we’re working with what we got. you’ll be fine. trust the process.
You audibly groan and collapse backwards onto your pillow, phone pressed against your forehead as if it might somehow absorb the stress and return with divine wisdom. This was the deal, you remind yourself. You help him pass lit, he helps you with... what? Popularity? Style? Winning Soobin's attention through sorcery and strategic eyeliner?
[ you ]
i’m not “pretending” to be hot just to impress soobin. i have standards , and pride and a favorite hoodie that smells like detergent and self pity
[ heeseung ]
noted. wear something that’s easy to take off tomorrow.
[ you ]
HEY. phrasing.
[ heeseung ]
relax. for the fitting room, nerd. I’ll be at your dorm at 1. and yes, soobin’s going to be at the party ;)
You stare at that last line for a beat too long. Something flutters, just faintly, in your stomach, uninvited.
[ you ]
Fine. but if this party ends with me throwing up in a bush i’m holding you personally responsible.
[ heeseung ]
deal. i’ll even hold your hair back. I'm generous like that.
You throw your phone onto the bed, face-down, like it’s suddenly on fire. You don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it’s the part of you that still wants Soobin to notice. Maybe it’s pride, or maybe it’s just the sheer inevitability of Heeseung’s energy, like trying to argue with a hurricane wearing a smug smirk. Whatever the reason, you’re already mentally preparing for tomorrow. Shopping. With Heeseung. A party. With Soobin. A new outfit. A new you. A new mistake waiting to happen. You look down at your empty bulgogi container, sigh, and mutter to no one: “…this is gonna be a disaster.”
The knock on your door comes precisely at 1PM. Not a second early, not a second late. You open it with one shoe half-on, your hoodie sleeve caught in the zipper of your jacket, and your face still half-moisturized. Heeseung is standing there, leaned casually against the doorframe like a page out of a campus fashion catalogue, black jeans, leather jacket, sunglasses perched on his head like he’s just so effortlessly cool it hurts. His hair is slightly tousled, like he either woke up like this or spent an hour pretending he did. “Took you long enough,” he says, not bothering to hide his smirk.
You scowl and step out, slamming the door behind you. “I said ‘one second’ in the text.”
“Yeah, and I translated that from Girl to Human Time. So twenty minutes.” You roll your eyes, but you follow him anyway, because the deal has officially begun. Operation: Get Soobin to Notice You is in motion. Your dignity is already halfway out the window. Heeseung’s car is just what you expect, black, sleek, a little too clean, and filled with the faint scent of cologne, mint gum, and chaos. You barely get your seatbelt clicked in before he revs the engine and peels out of the dorm parking lot like he's in a race you didn’t know you entered.
“Oh my god, slow down!” you yelp, clutching the side handle like it might keep your soul tethered to your body.
“Relax,” he says, one hand lazily gripping the wheel, the other already reaching for the radio. “You’re acting like I don’t drive this road every day.”
“You drive it like you’re being chased, Heeseung.” He only grins in response, eyes still on the road, the picture of reckless confidence. “Maybe I like living on the edge.”
You’re about to fire back another sarcastic quip when the car fills, suddenly, gloriously, with the unmistakable sound of Taylor Swift. Specifically: Cruel Summer. And not the background kind of playing. The volume is up. Way up. Your eyes immediately dart to Heeseung, whose mouth is already moving, quietly at first, almost unconsciously, as he taps the steering wheel to the beat. “I’m drunk in the back of the car… and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar…” Your jaw drops slightly. Because he’s not just mouthing the words. He’s singing. And not in a “ha-ha this song is funny” way. In a felt that in his soul, this is on his heartbreak playlist, probably posted a breakup selfie to this in 2021 kind of way. You try. You really try to stifle the laugh bubbling in your throat. You press your lips together, you bite the inside of your cheek, you turn to the window in dramatic fashion. But it slips out anyway, a full, helpless giggle, light and sudden.
Heeseung cuts his eyes toward you, still softly singing, and raises a brow. “What’s so funny?”
You blink at him innocently. “You like Taylor Swift?” There’s a moment, a beautiful, brief, perfectly humiliating pause, where Heeseung seems to glitch. His mouth opens, then closes, then he looks back at the road like he’s searching for an exit from this conversation.
“I — well, I mean —” he clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “She’s… I mean, it’s just a good song, alright?”
Your laugh doubles, slipping out like sunlight through cracked blinds. “Cruel Summer, though?”
“She’s a lyrical genius,” he mutters, half-defensive, half-sincere. “That bridge? That’s literature.”
You raise your brows, lips twitching. “Quoting T-Swift now? Is this what my tutoring is doing to you?” Heeseung flips you off with absolutely no hesitation, but there’s no heat behind it. He’s laughing now too, eyes squinting as he turns into the mall parking lot with a slightly-too-aggressive swerve.
“Fuck off,” he grins. “You wish you had taste this good.” You hold up your hands in surrender, still giggling. “Okay, okay. I’m not judging.”
“You are judging,” he says, putting the car in park. “But I’ll allow it. Because you’re clearly not emotionally evolved enough to appreciate her catalog yet.”
“Oh my god. Shut up.”
“Nope. We’re listening to Lover next. You’ve brought this upon yourself.”
The mall greets you with its usual blend of too-loud pop music, screaming children, and the sweet, seductive scent of cinnamon pretzels. It’s packed with people, mothers pushing strollers, bored teenagers clinging to oversized shopping bags, couples holding hands like it’s an Olympic sport. You trail behind Heeseung, your feet already regretting your choice of shoes and your soul regretting this entire arrangement. “So what’s first?” you ask, trying not to bump into a mannequin dressed in denim overalls and heartbreak.
Heeseung doesn’t answer right away. He just keeps walking, purposeful, smug, like he’s on a mission from god. Then he abruptly turns left into a store that is suspiciously sleek and minimal. You blink. “Wait—this is…”
“An eyeglass store,” Heeseung finishes for you, already heading toward the back. “But more importantly, contact central.” You halt, crossing your arms. “Excuse me?”
“You’re getting contacts,” he says, matter-of-fact. “The glasses gotta go.”
You look genuinely scandalized. “Hey! I’ll have you know — I love my glasses.” He stops mid-step and slowly turns to face you, one brow arched so high it’s practically touching heaven. “Yes,” he says, voice dry. “Very librarian core. Sexy in a please return your books on time or I’ll gently scold you in a whisper kind of way.”
You roll your eyes so hard you practically see your ancestors. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here you are. Following me into Lens & Style like it’s the promised land.” You’re about to argue more, but the woman behind the counter greets you both with a professional smile, and suddenly you’re being ushered into a little fitting room with sterile lighting and a mirror that shows way too much. A few minutes later, you’re handed a trial pair of contacts and instructed, gently, but firmly, to put them in. It’s harder than it looks. “What do you mean I can’t blink? My entire personality is blinking under pressure!”
Outside the door, Heeseung snorts. “You’re being dramatic.”
“You’re being annoying,” you grumble, poking yourself in the eye again.
After a full five minutes of internal screaming, finger fumbling, and probably some divine intervention, you finally get them in. You blink a few times, adjusting. The world sharpens around the edges. For the first time in forever, you can actually see without the weight of frames perched on your nose. You step out slowly, unsure, blinking into the bright lights of the shop. Heeseung looks up from his phone, his gaze flicking to yours. And then — He freezes. His smirk falters for the briefest of seconds. You see it. You feel it.
“Huh,” he says, slower now. “They… actually look good.”
You raise a brow, tentative. “Yeah?” He shrugs, but there’s something unreadable in his expression now, something softer, quieter. “They make your eyes stand out more.” He pauses, then adds with zero fanfare: “You’ve got nice eyes.” It lands like a piano dropped from ten stories. Simple, direct, and impossible to ignore. You blink, stunned; not just by the words, but by the way he said them. Like it wasn’t a joke. Like he meant it. Before you can formulate an actual response, Heeseung clears his throat and looks away. “Alright, let’s go,” he says, already walking toward the exit. “You can thank me later when Soobin gets whiplash tonight.”
It takes you a beat to follow. Just one. But it’s enough to register that your cheeks are suddenly warm. That your stomach did a weird, traitorous flip. That you hate how a single compliment from Lee freaking Heeseung just turned your brain into a puddle. You push the thought aside and jog to catch up, voice light. “You know, for someone who thinks I look like a librarian, you sure stare a lot.”
He doesn’t look at you, but his mouth twitches into a grin. “You wish.” You do not dignify that with an answer. Mostly because your brain is still back at You’ve got nice eyes. And just like that, with one step out of the eyeglass store and into the fluorescent madness of the mall, the first layer of the old you is left behind.
You’ve barely had time to blink, or process the fact that you’re now navigating the mall with 20/20 vision and a slightly compromised emotional state, when Heeseung is dragging you again. His grip on your wrist is light, but determined, like he’s got an agenda and you’re just a reluctant passenger in the Heeseung Express. You stumble to keep up. “Where are we going now? I need emotional closure before the next attack on my personality.”
He doesn’t even turn around. “Hair.”
“Hair what?”
“Hair cut. Hair styling. Hair lesson. Hair magic. Come on, keep up.” You dig your heels into the tile floor and jerk your arm back. “Heeseung, wait — I did not agree to this. My hair is fine!”
He finally turns, a single amused brow arched in classic Heeseung fashion. “Fine,” he echoes flatly. “That’s the bar now? Fine?”
You cross your arms. “It’s my head.” He takes a step closer, voice dipping into that maddening blend of mockery and charm. He laughs — laughs, the audacity of him, and says, “Relax. It’s just a trim. Maybe some layers. She’s gonna show you how to actually style it too. You know, so it doesn’t look like you were electrocuted every morning before class.”
You gasp in betrayal. “I’m sorry?!”
“Respectfully,” he adds, as if that softens the blow, then gestures for you to follow. “Come on. She doesn’t bite.” You eye the interior of the salon like you’re being led to an altar, but against your better judgment, and possibly because you’re too tired to argue anymore, you follow him.
The girl waiting for you is already at her station, brushing her long, glossy black hair behind one ear. She’s tall, unfairly pretty, and wearing jeans that should be illegal. Her name tag reads “Yuri” in bubble-letter cursive. She sees Heeseung and her entire face lights up like a rom-com montage in reverse. “Heeseung!” she squeals, standing to give him a hug. It’s the kind of hug that lasts exactly one second too long to be casual. “You didn’t say you were coming in today!”
“I didn’t,” he says coolly, his hand barely grazing her back. “Brought a friend.”
You watch the interaction with narrowed eyes. It doesn’t take a genius, or even a whole brain cell, to figure out that these two have history. Whether it was a one-night stand, a few steamy study sessions, or something more dangerous like feelings, you’re not sure. But based on the way Yuri’s eyes immediately slide past you and lock on Heeseung like you’re the invisible girl in the background of her fantasy novel? Yeah. They’ve definitely seen each other naked.
“She’s gonna need a trim and a crash course in how not to commit hair crimes.” Heeseung says, throwing a smirk her way. You open your mouth to protest, again but suddenly Yuri’s hands are in your hair and you’re being guided toward a chair like it’s your fate and destiny. “Don’t worry,” she hums. “I’ll take care of her.”
“She’s fragile,” Heeseung calls after her with a smirk as he saunters toward the waiting bench. “Mentally and emotionally.”
“I will throw a brush at you!” you yell back as he flops onto the bench with his phone. Yuri laughs under her breath and begins to run her fingers through your hair. Her nails are long, her movements graceful, and despite your stubbornness, something about the way she works is oddly calming. For the next half hour, you sit there as she snips and styles and explains how to curl and blow out and not look like you just woke up five minutes ago.
“You’ve got good hair,” she says at one point, combing through a section with reverence. “You just don’t do anything with it.” You shrug in the mirror. “That’s kind of my thing.”
Yuri gets to work with practiced ease, fingers threading through your hair, sectioning, snipping. She hums to herself as she teaches you how to twist certain pieces, how to round-brush volume into your roots, how to flick the straightener just so to create an effortless bend. It’s overwhelming, but oddly empowering. Like you’re being handed the controls to your own spaceship. And somewhere beneath all the bitchy undertones, Yuri’s… actually pretty good at this. You glance toward the waiting bench. Heeseung is slouched with his legs sprawled out, scrolling on his phone like he’s not the reason this spiral of makeovers and feelings is happening at all. Every few minutes he glances up; quick, unassuming, but you catch him watching.
Finally, Yuri steps back. “Alright,” she says, tugging off the cape with a flourish. “Moment of truth.” You turn slowly toward the mirror. And okay, fine. You look… kind of amazing. Your hair isn’t drastically different, just sleeker. Softer around the edges. Effortlessly polished in that “I woke up like this but with money and a personal stylist” kind of way. It frames your face, brings out your eyes, makes you look like someone who chose to be seen instead of hiding behind glass and sarcasm. You stand, still a little dazed, and make your way over to Heeseung. He looks up just as you reach him, and something flickers in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything right away.
But then — He grins. That slow, crooked, effortlessly smug grin. “She’s a miracle worker,” he says to Yuri, standing and pulling out his wallet. “Put it on my card.”
Yuri takes it with a wink. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks, Yuri. I’ll call you.” He says, with the offer a wink in her direction.
She swoons. “You better.”
Once you’re outside, you finally say it, because someone has to. “You’re not going to call her.”
“Nope,” he replies, the ‘p’ popping off his lips like punctuation.
You shake your head in disbelief. “You are such a menace.”
“I prefer charming rascal,” he says, holding the door open for you like a true gentleman-shaped disaster. “Besides, she’s into guys who ghost her. Keeps the fantasy alive.”
You groan. “You’re actually insane.” He only shrugs, hands in his pockets, strolling beside you with the ease of someone who has never questioned his place in the world.
The moment your feet hit the tile floor of the clothing store, you know this is going to be a disaster. The air is thick with overpriced perfume and the walls are lined with mannequins posed like they’re judging you. Bright lights buzz overhead, harsh and clinical, and the racks seem to stretch into infinity, each one more chaotic than the last. There are sequin jackets tangled with pastel blouses, jeans with more holes than fabric, and crop tops that look like they were designed for dolls, not human beings. You glance around, disoriented. “There is… absolutely nothing here I’d wear.”
Heeseung, of course, looks completely in his element. He’s already moving through the racks like a man on a mission, pulling shirts and skirts and things that glitter ominously. “That’s the point,” he says over his shoulder, tossing a fringed jacket onto the growing pile in his arms. “You’re not supposed to wear what you’d wear. We’re evolving.”
“Into what? A disco ball?”
“No,” he replies seriously, “into the kind of girl Soobin stares at across the room and forgets how to blink.” You roll your eyes and reach for a flannel shirt, your comfort zone. Heeseung is there in half a second, gently slapping your hand away. “Nope. Absolutely not.”
“But—”
He points toward the dressing room. “Try these first. And don’t come out until you’ve mentally committed to the bit.” You sigh, arms loaded with fabrics you didn’t even know existed. The dressing room is small and slightly claustrophobic, and the first outfit you try on feels like something a pop star would wear to confuse the paparazzi. You step out hesitantly, tugging at the edges of the bright green top that’s two sizes too tight. Heeseung blinks.
Then he bursts out laughing. “You look like a glow stick in crisis.”
You snort, your face burning. “Okay, rude.” The next outfit is worse: a ruffled floral monstrosity that looks like it belongs in an 1800s romance novel, if that novel had a comedic twist.
Heeseung cackles. “You’re one bonnet away from becoming Pride and Prejudice’s chaotic cousin.” You both descend into full-blown laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt and your eyes water. It's ridiculous, how quickly the walls fall between you when you're in this bubble of absurdity, trying on outfits and exchanging insults like secrets. He calls you a fashion war crime. You call him a menace with too much confidence. He claims he’s got the eye of a stylist. You tell him that eye is clearly blind. But somewhere along the way, the laughter shifts. It softens. Somewhere in the middle of the chaos, he starts watching you differently.
You don’t notice it at first, not until you slip into the last dress. It’s simple. No sequins, no plunging neckline, no look-at-me theatrics. Just soft black silk that clings gently to your frame, the neckline a graceful square that highlights your collarbones, the hem brushing just above your knees. You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, surprised. It’s not flashy. It’s not dramatic. But it feels like you, the version of you that’s always been hiding underneath. You take a breath, then step out of the dressing room.
Heeseung is on the bench, scrolling through his phone, completely unprepared. He glances up, probably ready with another quip, but the second he sees you, he stops. His phone lowers slowly in his hand. His mouth parts. And he just… stares. For the first time since this entire makeover madness began, Lee Heeseung is speechless. You shift awkwardly under his gaze, tugging at the hem of the dress. “Is it—do I look weird? Be honest.” He doesn’t answer.
You take a hesitant step forward, heart thudding. “Heeseung?”
He blinks, like you pulled him from a dream, and then, because he’s Heeseung, he smirks and shrugs. “That’ll do for tonight, I suppose.”
You scoff and roll your eyes, but the flush on your cheeks betrays you. “Wow. High praise. I’m overwhelmed.” He grins, leaning back and resting one arm behind his head. “Don’t let it get to your head. We’re going for hot, not heart attack-inducing.”
You disappear back into the dressing room before he can see the stupid smile tugging at your lips. Your heart feels like it’s doing somersaults, and not because of Soobin. You shake the thought from your head, firmly, stubbornly, and change back into your jeans and hoodie. A few minutes later, you’re at the register, watching the cashier ring up the pile of clothes that feel like pieces of someone new. Someone a little braver. A little shinier. A little less invisible. Heeseung stands beside you, smug and satisfied, like he just built you in a lab.
The cashier announces the total, and before you can even reach for your wallet, Heeseung slides his card across the counter. “On me.”
Your head snaps toward him. “Heeseung, what?”
He just winks. “Don’t worry. I’ll bill you in character development. The cashier bags the clothes, and you step back into the mall with your arms full of potential and your brain full of questions.
After the last store spits you out, bags in hand, Heeseung’s wallet lighter, your soul slightly transformed, Heeseung glances at the clock on his phone and says, “Okay. Next stop: food court. I need carbs before I collapse.”
You blink at him, momentarily stunned. “You eat pizza like the rest of us?”
He shoots you a look. “ I don’t just eat pizza. I inhale it. Come on.” Your stomach growls before your feet can move, and suddenly you realize that in all the chaos, makeup, mirrors, the emotionally unsettling event of someone finding you attractive, you forgot to eat. Now that he’s mentioned it, you’re starving. Practically feral. You follow him past vendors and kiosks, the scent of fried food and cinnamon sugar swirling through the air. The food court is loud and crowded, but there’s something strangely comforting about it, the normalcy of it, the fluorescent lights and orange booths, the chatter of families and teenagers and friends grabbing greasy comfort.
Heeseung gets in line beside you at the pizza place, his arms still casually swinging at his sides like this is just another day. “What’s your poison?”
You glance at the menu. “Uh… pepperoni. And a soda.” He nods and orders for you both, without asking, like he’s already memorized the way you talk, the things you like. You’re about to protest, but then he’s paying with that same black card he flashed earlier and nudging you toward a table like it’s no big deal. You settle into a booth across from him, the tray between you bearing two steaming slices and a pair of plastic cups filled to the brim with soda. The first bite is practically a religious experience, greasy, cheesy, absolutely glorious.
Heeseung watches you with mild amusement. “You eat like you’ve just returned from war.”
“I have,” you say, voice muffled around a bite. “Battlefield: retail.”
He snorts and takes a sip of his drink. Then, after a pause, his expression shifts. “So… have you ever actually spoken to Soobin?”
You freeze mid-bite, the cheese stretching between your lips and the slice. You blink. “Define spoken.”
He raises a brow. “Words. Sentences. Preferably involving two-way communication.”
You swallow and clear your throat. “I, uh, once held the computer lab door open for him.” He’s already laughing. You roll your eyes, cheeks flaming. “He said thank you!”
Heeseung grins, eyes crinkling. “Wow. A whole conversation. Do you guys have an anniversary for that?”
You smack his arm lightly across the table. “Shut up.”
He rubs the spot like you wounded him. “Abuse. I’m calling my lawyer.” You giggle despite yourself, hiding it behind your soda. There’s something so stupidly easy about sitting here with him. You forget you’re supposed to be awkward and invisible. You forget that you’re the DUF. You’re just… you. Which is why the next thing he says nearly gives you whiplash. “Alright,” he declares, brushing crumbs off his hands. “I dare you to flirt with that guy and get his number.”
You nearly choke on your drink. “Excuse me?” He gestures with a nod to a guy sitting alone across the food court, mid-twenties, dark hair, nose in his phone, clearly minding his own business.
“No way,” you say immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, come on. This is training. You want Soobin, don’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then get off the bench and into the game.”
You narrow your eyes. “Easy for you to say. You flirt like it’s breathing.”
He smirks. “Because it is.”
And then — he stands up. Before you can even form a sentence, Heeseung is already strolling toward a girl seated at a table nearby, casual and charming, like this is something he does between errands. You watch, jaw slack, as he leans in and says something that makes her smile, tilt her head, laugh. He gestures to his phone, and she takes it without hesitation, tapping her number in and handing it back with a wink. Heeseung returns, smug as a cat, holding his phone out to you like a trophy. “See?” he says, displaying the fresh new contact with flourish. “Easy peasy.”
You stare at him like he’s grown a second head. “I hate you.”
He just shrugs. “Hate me from over there,” he says, pointing again at the guy with the phone. “Go on. Play dumb, but not that dumb. Guys love that shit.”
“I am dumb,” you hiss. “There is no playing.”
“Perfect. Just be your beautiful, awkward self.” Muttering every curse you know, you stand up and start toward the guy. It’s awful. You clear your throat. He doesn’t look up.
You fidget, then say, “Hi!”
He blinks, surprised. “Um. Hi.”
You force a smile. “I like your… phone.” He blinks again. You want to die. “I mean — I like your case! It’s… very rectangular. Classic. Minimalist.”
He looks mildly alarmed. “Thanks?” You attempt a laugh that comes out sounding like a cough. “Sooo, um, are you… single?”
His eyes dart nervously around. “I… I have a boyfriend.”
“OH!” you blurt. “Oh, my bad. I totally support that. I’m not… you know. Homophobic. Or anything.” You want to crawl into a vent and disappear. He offers a small, polite smile. “Have a good day.” And he’s gone, up and out, food tray abandoned. You turn slowly, walking back to the table where Heeseung is laughing so hard he’s red in the face, wheezing into his pizza slice like it’s keeping him alive.
You slump into the seat. “That was a hate crime.”
“That,” he says between snorts, “was the best thing I’ve ever seen. Ever.”
You glare at him. “I hope your soda spills on your lap.” Still grinning, he slides your tray toward you and raises his cup. “To improvement.” You clink your soda against his without smiling. But your heart’s laughing anyway.
When Heeseung pulls up to your dorm, it’s with a dramatic screech of tires and the kind of recklessly confident parking job that screams I’ve never paid a meter in my life. He leans over the center console, smirking at you as you gather your bags of shopping and your still-wobbly self-esteem from the floor of his car. “Alright,” he says, eyes scanning the bags. “You have everything you need to socially destroy the night.”
You roll your eyes. “Thanks, fairy godmother.”
He winks. “I’m hotter than a fairy godmother. And taller.” You snort, slamming the car door behind you and flipping him off over your shoulder. He cackles, the sound following you up the stairs of your dorm and into the echoing silence of your room. Once you’re inside, the weight of the next few hours settles in your stomach like a boulder. You place the shopping bags carefully on your bed, smoothing the edges of the tissue paper like they might calm your nerves. Heeseung said he’d be back at 9 p.m. sharp to pick you up, which gives you a little over three hours to get ready. Three hours to transform. Three hours to convince yourself that you’re not the DUF anymore.
You spend the first half-hour just staring at yourself in the mirror. No makeup, hair messy, hoodie baggy and beloved. You look… like you. Regular. Quiet. Familiar.
You text Heeseung:
“Okay so do I have to wear the mini skirt???”
His reply is instant. “Yes. And send pics. I’m the boss, remember?” You grumble, but slip into the skirt anyway and pair it with a halter top he claimed made your arms look “objectively illegal.” You take a mirror selfie, looking reluctant, and send it off. Within seconds, he replies: “Too ‘I work at a bar and hate my life.’”
You snort, throw the top across the room, and try again. Next outfit: jeans and a crop top. You pose. Click. Send “Cute. But it’s giving ‘we’re just friends.’” You flip him off through text “Try the dress. You know the one.”
You hesitate. That dress. The black silk one, the one that made his words stutter and his eyes flicker. The one that didn’t feel like you were trying to be anyone else, just a bolder version of yourself. You pull it out carefully, fingers gliding across the fabric like it might whisper back. Slowly, you slip it on. It fits like it did in the store. Soft, secure, like a secret. You stare at yourself in the mirror, and for a second… you see it. You see her. The girl who could walk into a party and turn heads. The girl who could maybe, just maybe, make Soobin notice. You send the picture.
Heeseung replies: “Jesus.” Then, seconds later: “That’s the one.”
No teasing. No jokes. Just those three words that knock your heart off-balance. You set your phone down, exhale slowly. Then, the routine begins. You do your makeup with trembling hands, lashes curled, liner precise, lips tinted a soft rose. Your hair falls the way Yuri taught you, soft waves that frame your face and catch the light. You spray perfume on your wrists, your collarbones, the backs of your knees. A whisper of vanilla and hope. You put on your jewelry, simple earrings, the necklace that sits perfectly in the hollow of your throat. You take one last look in the mirror. You don’t recognize her, but you like her.
Then, your phone rings. The name “Heeseung 💀” flashes on the screen. You answer, voice caught somewhere between a smile and a scream. “Hello?”
“Hey,” he says, casual and breezy like this isn’t the first time he’s hearing your voice dressed like this. “I’m outside.” Your stomach flips.
You grab your bag, give yourself one more desperate glance in the mirror, and whisper to your reflection, “Don’t trip. Don’t choke. Don’t die.” Then you’re out the door, the echo of your footsteps ringing down the hall, your heart doing somersaults in your chest.
The car is sleek and stupidly shiny, purring low like it knows it’s hot. You spot it the moment you step outside your dorm building, standing at the edge of the sidewalk like you’re on the brink of a red carpet. And standing against it, leaning like he was born to be the poster child for a Calvin Klein fragrance, is Heeseung. He looks up as you approach, and even in the dim lighting of campus streetlamps, his smile flickers into something that nearly knocks you over. He’s wearing all black, ripped jeans, a bomber jacket, his signature messy hair that probably took way too long to make look that effortless. You don’t want to say he looks good, because that feels too generous. He looks... unfair. Rude. And worse? He knows it. He gives you a once-over, slow and obvious. “Damn,” he says, like he’s complimenting you and mocking you in the same breath. “You clean up alright.”
You roll your eyes, clutching your purse a little tighter. “You’re not so bad yourself. For a menace.”
He smirks and pops open the passenger door for you with an exaggerated flourish. “M’lady.” You roll your eyes again, but your heart skips a beat anyway as you slide into the seat, the cool leather against your thighs making you realize just how very real this is. You’re on your way to the party. With Lee Heeseung. In a black silk dress and mascara that took you 45 minutes to get right. Breathe. The drive is short, just a few blocks away in one of those off-campus houses you’ve only ever seen through the haze of Instagram stories and hearsay. But your nerves are anything but short. They’ve curled into your stomach, wound tight around your ribs, pressed against the back of your throat. You grip the strap of your bag like it’s a lifeline.
You’ve been to parties before, sure. But never without Dani and Sakura. Without their protective, familiar presence to anchor you in the sea of bodies and music and beer breath. Without their shared eye-rolls and whispered commentary and midnight giggles on the walk home. And now… now you don’t even know if they’ll be there. Scratch that. You know they will. You just don’t want to see them. Not tonight. Not when you're dressed like this. Not when you're trying so hard to become someone new.
You barely realize the car’s stopped until Heeseung throws it into park. You’re frozen, staring out the window at the glittering string lights draped across the porch, the thump of bass already vibrating through the concrete. There are people everywhere, laughing, shouting, spilling out onto the lawn like they’ve never had a quiet thought in their lives. You’re going to puke. Heeseung glances over, and; because he’s Heeseung, he notices immediately. “You good?” he asks, casual but careful. “You look like you’re about to get drafted into war.”
You force a laugh, but it’s brittle. “I’m fine.”
“Liar.” You glance at him, cheeks hot. “Okay, I’m just… nervous.”
He nods like he gets it, and maybe he does. Maybe he doesn’t. But his voice is soft when he says, “Hey. Look at me.” You do. “Everything’s gonna be cool,” he says, with a cocky grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You look insane, by the way. Like, criminal levels of hot. If Soobin doesn’t fold tonight, he’s legally blind.”
That earns a weak laugh from you, and he nudges your shoulder gently. “Just remember who got you here when you’re famous on campus by Monday.”
You snort. “You mean when they put me in GroupMe memes for tripping over my heels and knocking over a keg?”
Heeseung grins. “Even better. Instant legend status.” You breathe out, shaky but a little more stable now. “Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s do this.”
“You sure?”
“No.”
He laughs, throwing open the door. “That’s the spirit.”
You step out onto the curb, your heels clicking against the pavement like you’re a contestant on America’s Next Nervous Breakdown. But still, you stand up straighter. Shoulders back. Head high. You smooth the hem of your dress and tell yourself this is what you came here for. To show them. To show yourself. Heeseung falls into step beside you, his hand brushing against yours, not quite touching, but close enough to anchor you. Together, you walk toward the house, the music growing louder with every step. Somewhere behind the front door, the party waits. Soobin waits. They might be waiting too. But for now; it’s just you. And Heeseung. And the version of you that’s ready to finally be seen.
The moment the front door swings open, you’re hit with a wall of noise and heat, thick and heady like you’ve just stepped into the center of a beating heart. The bass is thudding through the floorboards, lights pulsing with every drop of the music, and bodies are everywhere, moving, swaying, tangled up in each other, laughter and shouting and the occasional high-pitched squeal blending together like some chaotic symphony of college nightlife. It’s not your first party, not technically, but it’s your first this kind of party, this kind of entrance. Not as a background extra or the girl carrying everyone’s phones. No hoodie, no glasses, no fading into the wallpaper.
Tonight, you’re a main character. And Heeseung is your entrance music. He walks in first, easy and smooth, like the world shifts to make room for him. His presence is magnetic, and it pulls eyes toward the doorway like gravity. The second you step through behind him, heels tapping softly, dress swishing around your thighs like smoke, there’s a ripple. You feel it. Heads turning. Conversations pausing. The hush of recognition so subtle you might miss it, if your nerves weren’t already on fire.
You try not to look around too much. You try to look confident. Poised. Detached, even. You tilt your chin up like you belong, even though your hands are clammy and your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics. You’re hyper-aware of everything: the way the strap of your dress slides against your shoulder, the way your perfume clings to the heat of your skin, the soft creak of your heels on the hardwood floor. You catch flashes of recognition from familiar faces, faces that used to glance right through you, now blinking, staring, mouths parted, whispering behind their solo cups. And you? You just keep walking. Heeseung’s friends spot him in the far corner of the room, near a low couch littered with bags of chips and someone’s half-eaten box of pizza. The greetings are instant, shoulder claps, finger guns, head nods and booming “Yo!”s that feel like something out of a movie. Sunghoon practically lunges forward, clapping Heeseung on the back like he’s just returned from war. Beomgyu pulls him into one of those half-hugs that somehow involve three back slaps and an awkward shoulder bump. Jay and Jake both pipe up at once about someone from class asking for him earlier, their voices fighting over the music. And for a second, you’re forgotten.
You stand a little off to the side, hands awkwardly clasped in front of you, smile hovering uncertainly on your lips. You’re not mad, they haven’t seen each other in a bit, and the reunion energy is real, but the awkward ache settles in your chest anyway, that old too-familiar feeling of being adjacent to the fun but not quite in it. Until Sunghoon finally turns toward you, and freezes. His eyebrows shoot up so far they practically disappear into his hairline. His eyes flick over you, slow and not particularly subtle, dragging from the hem of your dress to the curve of your collarbone to your lips like he’s trying to solve a riddle with his eyeballs. “Uh… who’s this?”
Beomgyu leans in, squinting in your direction like he’s staring directly into the sun. “Wait. Are you new? Like, transfer student new? Heeseung, bro, you didn’t say you were bringing someone.” Heeseung, who is somehow already sipping a drink he didn’t have two seconds ago, sighs and smacks Beomgyu lightly on the back of the head.
“She’s not new,” Heeseung says casually. “You guys know her.”
Jay looks genuinely confused. “We do?”
ake leans sideways to get a better look at you. “Hold on…” Heeseung glances at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Then, with perfect comedic timing and just enough pride to make your knees wobble, he says your name like it was obvious. To them, it was not and for some reason that twisted you up inside.
There is a silence. Then, chaos. “NO FREAKING WAY.” Sunghoon’s voice actually cracks. “Shut up. Shut UP.” Beomgyu’s mouth falls open. “You’re lying. This is not hoodie-and-sweatpants Y/N. This is, like — TikTok viral-level hot girl Y/N. You’re telling me it’s the same person?” You’re half-laughing, half-dying inside. You glance away, cheeks burning, unsure what to do with your hands or your face or your entire existence. This wasn’t supposed to feel like a scene from a teen makeover movie, but, well. Here you are.
“She’s always looked like this,” Heeseung says coolly, giving them a look that says don’t push it. “You just never paid attention.” The group stumbles over themselves with backpedaling compliments, Sunghoon muttering something about your eyes, Jake saying you look “like a star,” and Beomgyu still acting like he just saw a unicorn. You’re saved from having to respond by Heeseung, who, clearly reading your overwhelmed expression, tosses out casually, “You guys seen Soobin?”
Jay shakes his head. “Not yet. Might be outside?” Heeseung nods, and without another word, he reaches down and grabs your hand like it’s the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, the contact is sudden and warm and firm, and you don’t even think, you just let him pull you through the crowd, dodging plastic cups and tangled limbs as he weaves toward the kitchen. Your hand stays in his the whole way. You don’t ask why. You don’t let yourself hope. When you reach the drink table, he finally lets go, only to pour you something in a red cup and hand it to you like a bartender with a mission.
“You alive?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.
You take the cup, roll your eyes, and murmur, “Barely.”
Heeseung clinks his cup against yours, grin widening. “You’re killing it.”
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, voice just loud enough to cut through the bass thumping behind you. It’s gentler than you expect, free of teasing or sarcasm.
You nod automatically. “Yeah, I’m—”
“Y/N?!” The sound of your name rips through the music like a siren. You freeze. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. You’d know those voices anywhere. They’re carved into your memory, every syllable, every cadence, familiar and aching in the way only ex-best friends can be. Still, you turn.
Dani and Sakura are standing there, half in disbelief, half in judgment. Their eyes rake down your body, from the sleek dress hugging your frame to the careful curls in your hair. Their mouths are parted like they can’t decide whether to gasp or laugh. Sakura tilts her head. “What… are you doing here?”
Dani crosses her arms. “And with him?”
You glance back at Heeseung for half a second, who hasn’t said a word yet, just watching them with a slight furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips. You force a breath out of your nose and turn back to the girls, your grip tightening around your drink. You let out a laugh. It’s sharp and hollow and lined with every quiet insult they’ve ever made sound like a joke. “What?” you say, voice laced in dry amusement. “Surprised someone like Heeseung would want to hang out with me?” They flinch, barely, but you catch it. Dani opens her mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You don’t wait.
You take a step closer, letting your voice drop, cold and brittle like breaking glass. “Why do you guys even care? Huh? You didn’t seem to care when you were calling me the DUF behind my back.”
Sakura’s expression twists. “We never—”
“This isn’t you, Y/N,” Dani cuts in, voice brittle. “The dress. The makeup. Hanging out with Heeseung? This isn’t who you are.” Your jaw clenches. The words burn, not because they’re true, but because they’re not. Because they’re laced with that same tired condescension, the same kind of backhanded care that always kept you two steps behind, like they wanted you close but never quite caught up. But before you can speak, a sudden warmth settles across your shoulders. Heeseung. His arm slips over you with ease, casual but claiming, protective but not possessive. His fingers brush the edge of your shoulder, and his voice is laced with syrupy sarcasm.
“We’d love to stay and chit-chat,” he drawls, flashing the girls a lazy grin, “but we’ve got somewhere to be.” And just like that, he doesn’t give them another second. He tugs you away gently, steering you through the party with surprising precision, hand resting firmly on your upper back as he guides you toward the back of the house. You don’t look back. You don’t want to see their faces. You’re too stunned, too angry, too relieved. Your heart is racing and your pulse is pounding and your vision is a little too bright. He opens the back door, and the cooler night air hits you like a blessing. You step out onto the porch, the noise of the party muffled behind the closed door. Fairy lights are strung across the railing, casting a soft gold glow over the wooden planks and the few potted plants half-dead in their corners. It’s quieter here. Private.
You suck in a breath and finally speak. “Thank you.”
Heeseung leans against the porch railing, glancing sideways at you. “For what?”
You give him a look. “For that. For getting me out of there.”
He shrugs, eyes flicking away. “It’s no big deal.”
You watch him for a moment, heart still unsteady. “It is, though.” He finally meets your gaze again, and for a moment, the cocky smile slips away. His eyes are dark and unreadable, but his voice is soft when he says, “They don’t get to make you feel like that. No one does.” You feel something twist in your chest. Something warm. Something dangerous. For a second, the two of you just… stand there. The silence stretches out, thick and humming with unspoken things. Heeseung’s hand is still in his pocket, but his shoulder is just barely touching yours now. Not quite close enough to be a statement, but close enough to feel like a promise.
The quiet of the back porch doesn’t last long. It breaks like glass, sharp and immediate, at the sound of stilettos clacking against the wood. You feel the shift before you see it. A cool draft. A wrongness. And then, the syrupy sweet voice that makes your spine stiffen and your heart drop. “Well, isn’t this cozy?”
Wonyoung stood there, draped in a skin-tight red dress that clings like a threat, hair curled into perfect waves, and lips painted a venomous shade of cherry. She walks like the world’s her stage, and you’re just an extra lucky to be in the background. Her smile is the kind that cuts, sharp and gleaming, like she knows something you don’t. Your heart sinks because you remember. You remember her words last time: “Stay away from Heeseung.” You didn’t listen. Maybe you thought she wouldn’t notice. Maybe a part of you hoped she didn’t mean it. But she’s here now, and she’s looking at you like a hunter cornering something helpless. Heeseung straightens beside you, his entire body going taut like a wire pulled too tight. “What do you want, Wonyoung?” he says, voice clipped.
She doesn’t answer. Instead, she saunters closer and, without warning, nudges you aside with the ease of someone who’s always taken up too much space. Her hand slides onto Heeseung’s shoulder like she owns it, like she’s done it a thousand times before. But Heeseung jerks away instantly, his jaw clenching as he shrugs her off like her touch burned. Still, Wonyoung smiles. “Hee… I miss you.” He doesn’t answer. Not at first. He just glances at you. And the look in his eyes, God, it’s something between apology and warning and please just trust me. But you don’t know how to read it, not really. Not when your stomach is twisting in knots and your voice is caught in your throat.
“Hey, Wonyoung…” you manage, your tone so high and squeaky you want to slap yourself. Wonyoung turns, slow as a villain in a teen drama, and actually groans, like your existence is somehow the inconvenience of the century. She eyes you up and down with obvious disdain before deadpanning, “What do you want?”
You blink, caught off guard. “Uh—I was just—” But she’s already looking away, like you don’t matter. Like you’re nothing more than a gnat buzzing in her ear. It’s humiliating. It’s infuriating. But you don’t say anything. You just shrink a little smaller.
She turns back to Heeseung, pressing forward again like she hasn’t just made you feel two inches tall. “We’re playing spin the bottle,” she says brightly, batting her lashes. “Wanna join?”
Heeseung lets out a dry laugh. “What are we, high schoolers?” His voice is full of disbelief. “Isn’t that a kids game?”
Wonyoung just shrugs, undeterred. “Still works.”
Before he can argue again, she latches her fingers around his wrist and tugs. You don’t know if it’s the surprise or the fact that he’s clearly outnumbered, but he lets her drag him halfway across the porch. You don’t even realize you’re following until you’re inside again, the noise swallowing you whole. The crowd’s shifted, coalescing into a rough circle on the living room floor. The center of attention now: an empty bottle spinning slowly on the wood, the air buzzing with half-drunken laughter and anticipation. You spot Dani and Sakura immediately. They’re sitting between Jake and Sunghoon, giggling, whispering, stealing glances at you. But there’s something different now. Not amusement. Not judgment. Pity. It glimmers on their faces like a sheen of sweat, and it makes something cold spark in your chest. You hate it. You’d rather be ignored than pitied. You tear your gaze away.
“Finally you’re here! Join us!” Wonyoung’s voice rings out, shrill and triumphant. Soobin. He was here, oh god. Your heart lurches at the sight of him. He’s dressed in a white tee and a leather jacket, hair falling perfectly across his forehead, the picture of cool detachment. He smiles slightly as he joins the circle, settling next to Beomgyu without much fanfare. He hasn’t even seen you yet. But suddenly the air in the room is thinner. The lights are harsher. Every breath feels like an effort. This is what you came for, isn’t it? The moment you’ve been chasing. The whole reason you let Heeseung drag you to the mall, to the salon, through an identity transformation that’s still barely settled on your shoulders. You should be thrilled. But instead, all you can feel is this strange, gnawing pressure. You glance at Heeseung, who’s already watching Soobin, something unreadable flickering across his features. Then his gaze shifts to you. There’s tension there. Tight. Heavy. Loaded. And it hits you: the game has started. And you’re no longer sure whose rules you’re playing by.
You watch as people had their turns with the bottle, watching as the glass spun round and round giving someone their fate for the night and finally after countless spins — it was your turn. The bottle spun with a nervous flick of your fingers, clinking softly against the scratched wood floor as it twirled, and you felt your stomach turn with it. Around you, drunken laughter swirled like smoke, the heat of the crowded living room pressing in from all sides. Someone let out a whistle, another person shouted encouragement, and Wonyoung was watching you with narrowed eyes, her arms crossed like she was waiting for you to fall flat on your face. But none of that mattered right now. None of it mattered because that damned bottle had chosen a direction, and it was pointing straight at Soobin. You could barely breathe.
Soobin tilted his head, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a soft, almost apologetic smile, the kind that made your lungs feel like they were filled with helium. His gaze was kind, nonjudgmental. Gentle, even. As if to say “It’s okay if you say no. I won’t be mad.” And God, did that make it worse. Because now the ball was in your court. Your palms were sweating. Your heart pounded so loudly you couldn’t hear the party anymore. Just the roar of blood in your ears. You’d dreamed of this. Fantasized about this exact moment for years. The idea of kissing Soobin had always seemed like something that belonged to a different version of you, a cooler, prettier, worthier version. And yet here you were. Inches from it. One lean forward and you'd touch lips. And still, panic dug into you like claws.
Your mind spiraled in frantic loops. What if I mess it up? What if I bump noses with him? What if my breath smells like the pizza from earlier? What if my lipstick smudges? What if I suck at it and he tells everyone? And more than anything; do I even want my first kiss to be like this? In front of Wonyoung, Dani, Sakura, and twenty semi-drunk strangers? But before you could finish the spiral, Heeseung’s hand gently curled around your wrist. His fingers were warm, grounding. You turned your head slightly, and he leaned in, his voice brushing against the shell of your ear, low and sincere. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmured. “We can leave. Right now.”
You paused. That offer, so casual, so safe, it nearly undid you. You looked at him, and for a brief second the noise of the party dropped away. Just Heeseung and his eyes, steady and unreadable. Ready to walk you out of this chaos with zero judgment. But then your gaze flicked across the circle and found Wonyoung, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable but unmistakably sharp. You couldn’t back down. Not now. Not in front of her. “I’m fine,” you whispered, offering Heeseung the tiniest smile, even if it felt wobbly and weak. “I got this.” Reluctantly, he let your wrist go. And so, heart pounding like a drumline, you leaned in. Soobin did too.
Your faces were so close now you could feel the warmth of his breath, smell the faint citrus of his cologne. You were trying not to close your eyes too soon, but you didn’t know the rules. Were there rules? Were you supposed to count to three? Tilt your head? Your brain screamed at you to stop, to run, to — “COPS!” The word cracked through the house like a gunshot.
In an instant, the entire room exploded. Screams. Shouting. Feet slamming against hardwood. Red solo cups hitting the floor and rolling away. Someone knocked over a lamp, plunging half the room into shadow. The panic was immediate and real, like someone had hit a switch that turned this party into a stampede. You didn’t even get a second to blink before Heeseung was yanking you to your feet. “Come on!” he yelled, wrapping his fingers around yours and hauling you after him through the chaos.
You barely had time to register what was happening before you were stumbling through the living room, dodging people vaulting over furniture and crawling through open windows. The entire party had turned feral. Shouting echoed off the walls, red and blue lights flickered from the front yard, and someone shouted something about hiding in the attic. Heeseung didn’t slow. His hand tightened on yours as he dragged you through the kitchen, shouldering past people, and out the back door. The backyard was even more chaotic. Students were climbing fences, squeezing through hedges, and ducking behind trash cans. You stared at the wooden fence in front of you, at least six feet high, and made a sound somewhere between a groan and a gasp.
“You want me to jump that?” you cried.
“Unless you want your mugshot posted in tomorrow’s student newsletter — yes!” With an ungraceful huff, you hiked up your dress and clambered over the fence, scraping your knee on the way down and landing hard in someone’s overgrown backyard. Heeseung followed right after, barely phased, landing beside you with an effortless thud.
“This way!” so you ran. Breath tearing out of your lungs, dress flapping around your legs, adrenaline pounding through your veins, you ran like your life depended on it. You didn’t stop until Heeseung’s car was in view, parked two blocks down. You practically dove into the passenger seat as he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut. He turned the key, the engine roared to life, and the tires screamed against the pavement as he peeled off into the street like a getaway driver in a movie.
You didn’t even speak for the first few seconds, just sat there panting, adrenaline still racing through your bloodstream, chest heaving as the lights and shouting faded behind you. Then, you looked at each other. And burst out laughing. Full, uncontrollable, hysterical laughter. The kind that curled your stomach and left tears in your eyes. You laughed until your lungs hurt. Heeseung clutched the steering wheel with one hand, his other wiping tears from his face. “I almost kissed Soobin,” you gasped out between wheezes.
“And then almost got arrested,” he choked out. “Honestly? 10/10 night.”
You threw your head back, still laughing. “That was insane.”
He grinned at you, cheeks flushed, hair a mess from the mad dash. “You’re kinda fun when you’re not busy hating me, you know that?”
You smiled, your heart slowing in your chest. Outside, the streets blurred past your window. Inside, something was starting to settle. Shift. Change. “I don’t hate you.” You whisper. You were supposed to kiss Soobin tonight. Instead… you ran away with Heeseung. The laughter between you and Heeseung had started to quiet, settling into the thick silence that sometimes follows a shared moment, like the tide pulling back after a crash of waves. It lingered in the air, warm and easy, the kind of laughter that left your chest aching in the best way. You wiped at the corners of your eyes, breath still uneven from giggling so hard, and turned to look at Heeseung.
He was already watching you. His eyes sparkled under the dim glow of the car’s interior lights, lips curled into a half-smile, like he was still amused by the chaos you both narrowly escaped. Then, he tilted his head, that boyish grin deepening. “You were really going to kiss Soobin just now,” he said, like he still couldn’t believe it. You tried to smile back, to laugh it off, but something in your chest twisted unexpectedly. The corners of your mouth dipped, your gaze fell to your lap, and your fingers began nervously toying with your fingers.
Heeseung noticed immediately. The smile on his face slipped, eyes narrowing just slightly—not in annoyance, but concern. “Hey,” he said softly, leaning just a bit closer. “What’s wrong? I thought this is what you wanted?” You swallowed. The words caught in your throat, all scrambled and fragile. You didn’t want to say it. You hadn’t said it out loud to anyone. It was too revealing, too… vulnerable. But something about Heeseung, the steadiness in his gaze, the quiet way he was looking at you now like you mattered, made you trust him in a way that startled you. So you said it.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” It came out softer than you intended. Barely above a whisper. But it landed between you with the weight of something unspoken for too long. Heeseung didn’t react right away. He didn’t laugh or make a teasing comment. Instead, he just looked at you. His eyes searched yours for something, you weren’t sure what, maybe the why of it, or maybe just the simple truth. But whatever it was, he found it, because after a moment, he nodded, his voice quiet and sincere. “I can teach you.”
You blinked. “What?”
He nodded again, slower this time. No smirk. No hint of mischief. Just quiet seriousness. “I can teach you,” he repeated, “so you’re not inexperienced when you finally get Soobin.” The words felt… strange. Like something cold and sharp and warm all at once. You weren’t sure what to say, your heart skipping beats like it couldn’t keep up. “You’d really do that?” you asked, voice barely audible.
Heeseung leaned back just enough to look at you fully. “Yeah,” he said. “If you want.” And you did. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know what it meant. But you wanted to. So you nodded. “Okay.” He leaned over the center console, his arm brushing against yours, and suddenly the space between you shrank to something small and intimate. You felt the electricity buzz in the air like static clinging to skin, your pulse racing louder than your thoughts.
You swallowed. “What if I’m bad at it?”
He smiled softly, not in a mocking way but like someone offering reassurance. “That’s why I’m teaching you,” he said. Then, his hand lifted, slow and steady, brushing your hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His touch was featherlight, the pad of his thumb just grazing your cheek. “You want to set the tone,” he murmured. “Don’t just dive right in.” You nodded, breath caught somewhere between your chest and lips, and then — He kissed you. It wasn’t hurried. It wasn’t rough or overwhelming. It was soft. Intentional. Like he was holding the moment between his hands and molding it into something gentle. His lips were warm, firm but cautious, and he kissed you like he was afraid to scare you off. Like you were something rare. Precious. Fragile.
Your eyes fluttered shut, your hand lifting without thinking to rest gently against his arm. You melted, leaned into him. The world slowed down. The roar in your head dulled to a soft hum. The nervous energy in your chest unwound, slowly replaced by a kind of comfort that made your skin hum. When he pulled away, it was only by inches. His forehead almost rested against yours. His breathing matched yours, shaky and a little uneven. His voice was barely a whisper. “Did you learn anything?”
You blinked at him, dazed, lips still tingling. “I —I think I need another lesson.” He grinned, something sparking behind his eyes, and then nodded. “I think so too.” The second kiss was different. Gone was the careful, tentative pace. This time, his mouth found yours with a hunger that startled you, like he’d been waiting for permission and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to waste a second. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. Your hands, unsure at first, found their way to his shoulders, gripping lightly as your lips moved against his. It was fire and silk and all-consuming. His mouth moved with confidence, coaxing you, guiding you, his kiss deeper now, filled with something unspoken. You kissed him back with everything you had, wanting, needing, trying to remember everything, to feel everything.
When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. The windows were fogged, your hearts thundering. He looked at you with wide eyes and a half-laugh in his voice. “Let’s get you back to the dorms before I forget this is supposed to be educational.” You blinked at him, flustered and floating somewhere between disbelief and bliss. You nodded, cheeks burning, and didn’t say a word.
The morning sun crept in through the slats of your blinds like a quiet promise, painting golden stripes across your sheets and the cluttered floor of your dorm. You stirred slowly, a little dazed, blinking against the light and the memory of last night that came flooding back all at once. Lee Heeseung kissed you. Correction: you kissed Lee Heeseung. Twice, you never thought you would see the day. Your cheeks burned as you sat up, the remnants of sleep falling off your body like petals, replaced with a rush of electricity that made you want to scream into your pillow. It wasn’t just that it was your first kiss, it was the way it happened. Soft. Gentle. Focused. Like he’d been waiting to kiss you and didn’t know it until the moment your lips touched. You padded across the dorm floor, slipping into your morning routine with a weird sort of buzz in your chest. Toothbrush. Face wash. Outfit. Breakfast bar you didn’t feel like eating. But everything felt brighter. Softer around the edges. You were still you, but something inside of you had shifted just a little to the left. Your phone buzzed.
[ heeseung ]
Studying tonight? Meet me at the campus cafe. 6pm sharp.
Your breath caught, and for the briefest second you just stared at the screen, heart kicking up a beat like it remembered the feeling of his mouth on yours.
[ You: ]
Is this a date or is Mr. Yoon threatening your scholarship again?
Three dots danced on your screen before his reply popped up:
[ heeseung ]
Can’t it be both? 😏
You let out a snort and shook your head, fingers tapping against the glass.
[ You ]
Fine. But I’m only coming for the lattes. And the pity.
[ Heeseung ]
You love me for my academic desperation.
The audacity of how quickly your fingers typed out “maybe I do” and how fast you deleted it made your heart skip. You settled on a safer:
[ You ]
6pm sharp. Don’t be late, loser.
He didn’t respond right away, and that was probably for the best. Your head was still spinning with thoughts you didn’t know what to do with. Because despite the fact that this whole arrangement started as a carefully crafted plan to get Soobin to notice you, Heeseung had crept under your skin in a way you hadn’t expected. You were supposed to tutor him, he was supposed to help you get a makeover and gain confidence. You were not supposed to like the way he looked at you. Or the way he laughed at your jokes, like they were the funniest thing he’d heard all day. Or the way he kissed you like kissing you was something he’d been waiting to do forever. And yet…You shook your head and tried to push the thoughts down as you threw your backpack over your shoulder. There wasn’t time to obsess. You had a class to get to and a very smug, stupidly attractive boy to study with tonight. Still, as you stepped out into the cool morning breeze, you caught yourself smiling. That soft, barely-there kind of smile that made your cheeks warm and your chest float.
The clock on the café wall ticked toward six with the dramatics of a heartbeat, each second heavier than the last. You stood outside the door for a moment longer than necessary, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. It was just a study session. Nothing more. Just like it had been every time you’d met with him to talk about literature, syntax, metaphor, only now, every word he spoke felt double-edged. Heeseung had kissed you. Twice. You had kissed him back. And now here you were, stepping into the soft glow of the campus café, with your heart tucked somewhere beneath your collarbone and trying desperately not to show itself. Heeseung was already there, lounging in the corner booth like it was made for him. One long leg stretched out in front of him, a cup of iced coffee sweating on the table beside a half-opened notebook. His face lit up when he saw you, that easy grin sliding onto his lips as if it belonged there. You hated how your stomach flipped.
“You’re late,” he teased, gesturing at the seat across from him.
You scoffed, sliding into the booth and unzipping your bag. “It’s 5:59. Maybe your watch is just as bad as your syntax.”
He let out a sharp laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Touché.” You started with the basics, flipping through your annotated copy of Frankenstein, pointing out literary devices with the kind of precision you were proud of. Heeseung listened. Really listened. His brow furrowed when he was concentrating, and his eyes flicked back and forth between you and the book like he was trying to stitch your words to the page in real time. He asked questions, good ones, and when he got something right, his grin was so smug you almost threw your pencil at him. But then, somewhere between explaining tragic irony and discussing the gothic atmosphere, his focus started to slip. You were mid-sentence when you felt it, his fingers poking at your side, soft and quick like a spark.
You jumped, letting out a startled laugh. “What the hell?”
Heeseung smirked, clearly proud of himself. “You were monologuing. I had to bring you back to earth.”
“You’re such a child.” You quip.
“A cute child,” he said, wiggling his brows. You rolled your eyes, shoving him lightly with your foot under the table, but there was no bite behind it. There never was anymore. Then, he leaned back in the booth, his voice lowering just enough to signal a shift. “I have an idea, by the way. About how you can actually talk to Soobin.”
You blinked, momentarily derailed. “You mean… like a conversation that doesn’t involve holding a door open and whispering thanks?”
He smirked. “Exactly like that.”
“Well? I’m listening.” Heeseung’s gaze flicked over your face before he continued. “Sunghoon’s hosting a get-together tomorrow night. It’s not a huge thing, more like a casual hangout. Pizza, soda, football on the TV, the works. Soobin’s gonna be there.”
You hesitated, twirling your pen between your fingers. “I mean, yeah, that sounds okay but…” You tilted your head. “Is it going to be weird if I’m the only girl there?” Heeseung paused. That pause said more than he probably meant it to. He scratched the back of his neck, like he was bracing himself.
You narrowed your eyes. “What? What is it?”
He sighed. “Sakura, Dani, and… Wonyoung are going to be there too.” Your heart dropped straight to your feet. You leaned back against the booth, head tilted toward the ceiling in a dramatic groan. “Of course they are.”
“I get it if you don’t want to come,” he said quickly. “I wouldn’t blame you.”
But you shook your head, jaw tightening with something that tasted like defiance. “No. I’m going.”
Heeseung blinked. “Really?” his shock, palpable.
“Yeah,” you said, voice sharper than you meant it to be. “I’m not going to let them ruin this. I’m not going to let her ruin this.” You didn’t have to say her name. He knew. Still, you couldn’t help yourself from asking, quieter now. “Why is Wonyoung even going to something like that? I thought you two were… done.”
“We are,” he said. “But she’s still friends with the guys. She shows up to stuff. It’s… whatever.” It wasn’t whatever to you, but you nodded anyway. Because you knew if you let your thoughts go too far, you’d unravel right there over your half-drunk latte. Heeseung shifted again, this time leaning in closer. “Hey. If anything happens, if anyone says something, or makes you uncomfortable, I’ve got you. Okay?”
You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a moment the din of the café faded behind the weight of that promise. “Okay,” you said. And just like that, it was settled. Tomorrow night, you’d walk into a room where your ex-best friends and your accidental nemesis would be seated on one side, your crush would be on the other, and Heeseung would be somewhere in between. You had no idea what would happen. But you weren’t going to back down.
It was barely past six when you heard the knock on your dorm doo, three quick raps followed by a familiar “Let’s go, loser” muffled through the wood. You smoothed down your shirt, did a quick breath check (because you were just being cautious, not because you were thinking about kissing him again), and opened the door. Heeseung stood there, smug as ever, but there was something different in his eyes, an excitement that made him bounce a little on the balls of his feet. “You’re early,” you said, raising a brow.
“I’m prompt,” he corrected with a wink. “Besides, I couldn’t wait to show you this.”
He brought his hands out from behind his back, and there, held like a treasure map or some kind of sacred scroll, was a single sheet of paper. You blinked, confused, until your eyes scanned the header and the bold black print across the middle. Literature 206 – Midterm Grade: 85% Your gasp was dramatic, theatrical, the kind of sound that would’ve made someone down the hall poke their head out in concern if it hadn’t immediately been followed by your delighted squeal.
“Shut. Up!” you shouted, grabbing the paper from his hands and spinning to look at it closer. “Heeseung, you passed! You didn’t just pass; you did amazing!” He grinned like a fool, the kind of smile that made your chest feel too tight, and before you could even think about it, you launched yourself forward and hugged him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and his arms instinctively caught you around the waist, the paper crushed between your bodies. He laughed, that soft, deep sound you were starting to crave more than you should. And when you pulled back, just barely, your faces were close enough to feel the warmth of his breath.
“Told you I was a genius,” he murmured. You rolled your eyes, still beaming. “No. I’m the genius. You’re just the pretty face riding my coattails.”
He shrugged, smug. “Well, now that I’m officially a scholar,” he plucked the paper from your hand, “it’s time to cash in on your prize.”
You tilted your head. “Prize?” He held the door open for you, gesturing dramatically. “Tonight, you talk to Soobin. It’s finally your moment, superstar.” Your smile faltered, just a hair. Because somewhere, buried beneath all your excited nerves and fresh lip gloss, there it was. That voice. Small. Soft. Inconvenient. What if I don’t want Soobin anymore? You blinked, shoved it down. Laughed, even, like it wasn’t true. But it was. Or at least…it was becoming true. Every second you spent with Heeseung, that voice got louder. The boy who was once just a cocky annoyance was now a constant in your thoughts. He made you laugh. Made you feel seen. Kissed you like you were the only girl in the universe.
But you didn’t say any of that. Instead, you slipped past him into the hallway and said, “Well, let’s not keep my prize waiting.” The drive to Sunghoon’s house was familiar now, the same twisty roads and flashing streetlights. Heeseung’s music was loud, upbeat, something with too much bass and a beat that rattled your bones, but you didn’t mind. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, occasionally tapping along to lyrics, and every so often he’d glance at you out of the corner of his eye and smirk like he knew something you didn’t.
Maybe he did. You watched the world blur outside the window, trying not to think too hard about anything. Not the party. Not Soobin. Not the fact that Heeseung’s cologne was now recognizable by scent alone, or the way your hands had fit so naturally around the nape of his neck just moments ago. When he pulled into Sunghoon’s driveway, the house was already glowing, warm lights, windows open, the soft buzz of voices filtering out to the street. You took a breath.
“Ready?” he asked, not moving to get out just yet. You turned to look at him, heart thudding somewhere between nervous and expectant. “Let’s do it,” you said.
You weren’t sure when your heart had started beating so hard, only that you could feel it in the soles of your feet and the tips of your ears. From the moment you stepped out of Heeseung’s car and followed him to Sunghoon’s front door, your nerves had been steadily building, like pressure in a shaken soda can. The lights inside were warm, the sounds of chatter and clinking glasses casual, but nothing about this night felt easy. You stepped through the threshold like you owned the place, chin high, spine straight, masking your spiraling thoughts with the practiced poise of someone who’d watched one too many confidence tutorials on YouTube. Heeseung’s hand hovered protectively at the small of your back, just barely touching, but grounding you all the same. That slight pressure said, I’m here, and for a moment, you could almost breathe.
The living room was full already. Jake sat cross-legged on the floor, waving a slice of pizza around mid-story, while Jay and Beomgyu were in the middle of a mock argument about what toppings were superior. Sunghoon looked up from where he was grabbing drinks and offered a casual grin. And then, your eyes caught them. Dani and Sakura, tucked on one side of the couch, their laughter too forced, their eyes on you too long. But, Wonyoung. She didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Her gaze zeroed in on Heeseung’s hand still lingering on your back like it was a personal offense, her perfectly glossed lips curling into something sour. “What is she doing here?” she said finally, her voice louder than it needed to be, slicing through the room like a knife dressed in perfume. You froze, but Heeseung didn’t.
“She’s here because I want her here,” he said smoothly, not even looking at her. His tone was so offhand it made Wonyoung’s eye twitch. She scoffed, turning back to Jay with an exaggerated sigh, tossing her hair like she hadn’t just tried to publicly shame you. You swallowed hard. The room shifted again, the center of gravity pulling you straight toward the boy you hadn’t seen since the party. Soobin. He was seated on the couch, drink in hand, wearing a simple hoodie and jeans, his soft smile as warm as you remembered. He looked up when you approached, a flash of recognition lighting his expression.
“Hey — Y/N, right?” he asked, voice gentle.
You nodded, tucking hair behind your ear. “Yeah, that’s me.” He patted the cushion next to him, and you sat, acutely aware of the way Dani and Sakura were watching, and more intensely, the weight of Heeseung’s eyes on the side of your face. But for a moment, none of that mattered. You and Soobin fell into conversation like it was the most natural thing in the world. He asked about your classes, your major, if you were enjoying campus life. His smile never left his face, and yours slowly returned to yours. You laughed at something he said, something dorky and sweet about how he got locked out of his dorm last week, and your hand brushed his arm without thinking. And then your eyes darted up, Heeseung, across the room, sprawled in a chair like he wasn’t watching. But you could feel his attention. Like it was tethered to your pulse.
Before you could dwell too long, a sharp clink of a glass brought everyone’s attention back to the group. Wonyoung, placing her drink with a flourish, said, “We should definitely play Never Have I Ever.” Heeseung groaned immediately. “Are we really doing every high school game in the book this week?”
She shrugged, all innocent smile and lethal intentions. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” A chorus of agreement echoed around the room, and you knew, there was no getting out of this one. Someone dimmed the lights slightly as everyone started moving toward the center of the room, sitting in a loose circle with half-finished pizza slices and soda cans in hand. You sat between Soobin and Heeseung, though the space between you and the latter felt a little too electric, like if you moved even an inch, you might get burned. The game began light, as they always do.
The circle had started off innocent enough, plastic soda bottles sweating on the table, crusted pizza boxes pushed aside, the living room heavy with the low hum of music and the occasional pop of laughter. Someone asked something dumb about stealing candy from a gas station. Another person confessed to cheating on a test in tenth grade. It was stupid, harmless, the kind of thing you could brush off with a smirk and a sip of your drink. But there was something in Wonyoung’s gaze that made the back of your neck prickle before she even opened her mouth. She was perched on the edge of the couch like a queen on her throne, manicured fingers curled delicately around her cup, eyes glittering with something sharp and venomous. She turned her head slowly, deliberately, and locked her eyes on you with a smile that didn’t touch her lips.
“Never have I ever…” she began, the silence prickling around her, “been a loser virgin that no man wants to touch.” The room froze. The words landed like shrapnel, hot and slicing through whatever warmth had existed just moments before. Your chest constricted instantly, the oxygen leaving your lungs in one swift rush. You could feel every pair of eyes in the room shift to you, some wide with shock, others downcast, uncomfortable. You sat rigid, your cup trembling in your fingers, your pulse thudding like thunder in your ears. And then Wonyoung, as if to twist the knife, tilted her head and said, sweetly venomous, “Y/N, that means you have to put your hand up.” Your throat tightened so fast it hurt. You blinked quickly, trying to swallow it down, trying to pretend you hadn’t heard her right. But Heeseung stood up then, voice sharp and cold in a way you’d never heard from him before. “Knock it off, Wonyoung.”
She gave a lighthearted shrug, still smiling like this was all some twisted joke. “I mean…it’s just a game, Heeseung. No need to get snappy.”
Dani scoffed, disgust heavy in her voice. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Cut it out.”
But the damage had already been done. Your vision blurred as a tear slipped down your cheek without permission, hot with embarrassment, with shame, with the kind of humiliation that clings to your skin like ash. The silence was worse than the laughter could’ve been, everyone staring, no one speaking. Just the sound of your shaky breath and the trembling rattle of your heart in your chest. You couldn’t stay. You wouldn’t. Without a word, you stood up on wobbly legs, grabbing your bag with clumsy fingers and bolting for the front door. You didn’t hear who called your name, didn’t wait to see who stood or who stayed behind. You just ran, your face burning and your lungs struggling to catch up to your heartbreak. Outside, the air was cold and biting, but not cold enough to numb the pain in your chest. You didn’t get far before you felt a hand gently catch your wrist, not rough, not demanding. Just there. Just him.
“Hey; hey, look at me,” Heeseung said softly, turning you to face him. The night was quiet except for your breaths, short and uneven. He reached up, brushing your tear-streaked cheek with his thumb, the gesture so tender you nearly fell apart all over again. “Don’t listen to her,” he whispered. “She’s miserable and she wanted to take it out on someone. That’s all this is.”
“I’m fine,” you choked out, even though you weren’t.
“No, you’re not.” His voice cracked slightly, and he gave a soft shake of his head. “And I should’ve never brought you here. I knew she was going to be here. That’s on me.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” you whispered, your voice raw. “You’re not the one who humiliated me.” Still, his face was drawn with guilt, his brow furrowed. He opened the car door for you and you slid in, heart still pounding, nerves buzzing beneath your skin. He got in after you, but didn’t start the engine right away. The silence filled the cabin again, but this time it wasn’t awkward, it was heavy. Dense with something unspoken.
You stared at your lap, thinking of Wonyoung’s words again. Loser virgin. No man wants to touch you. It echoed in your head, bouncing around until it started to stick. Was she right? Was that why Soobin had never looked at you twice? Why you were always the girl just outside the circle? Before you could overthink it, before the voice of doubt could talk you down, you turned to Heeseung. “I want you to take my virginity.”
He blinked like he hadn’t heard you. “What?” You met his eyes this time, steady despite the tremble in your chest. “I want you to take my virginity.” The silence was immediate. Then sharp. His eyes widened, lips parting, trying to find something to say, some script, some defense. But nothing came. Just silence and the sound of your breath coming quicker than before. “I just…” you began, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. “What Wonyoung said. Maybe she’s right. Maybe Soobin wouldn’t want someone like me. Someone who’s never—”
“That’s not true—”
“Please.” Your voice cracked then, raw and soft, but full of something else too. Desperation, maybe. Maybe hope. Heeseung looked at you then, really looked. And something shifted in his gaze, his expression folding into something more serious, more solemn. There wasn’t any cocky grin, no teasing smirk. Just… sincerity.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
You blinked. “Yeah?”
He nodded once. “Yeah.” Relief washed over you slowly, curling around the fear that had taken root in your belly. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, something like gratitude spilling from your chest.
“Tonight?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.
He didn’t hesitate. “Tonight.”
And then he turned the key in the ignition, the engine humming to life as the two of you slipped into the dark, quiet night, no longer running away, but heading toward something that neither of you could quite name yet. But you could feel it, in the beat of your heart, the warmth in your chest, and the hand that rested gently over yours on the console.
The streets outside were washed in amber, the streetlights spilling honey-colored light onto the hood of Heeseung’s car as he pulled up to the quiet curb outside a low-rise campus apartment building. You recognized it, vaguely, though you’d never had a reason to be this far from your dorm before. He eased the car into park, the soft click of the gear shift cutting through the otherwise silent cabin. For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both suspended in this fragile, private space, like the world outside had hit pause just to give you this breath of stillness. He turned to you, one hand still on the steering wheel, the other reaching across the console like he might take your hand but thinking better of it. His gaze flickered to your face, warm and searching, not demanding. Not expectant. Just careful. Just him.
“You sure about this?” he asked, voice low but steady. And you nodded. Without hesitation. Without the voice of Wonyoung echoing in your ears. Without thinking about Soobin or the plan or the stupid game that led you here. You nodded because it was Heeseung and somehow, in the softest, strangest way, you’d never been more certain about anything in your life.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure.” That was all it took. Heeseung stepped out of the car, jogged around to your side, and opened the door for you, offering a hand as you slid out. The air between you pulsed with unspoken tension, not the bad kind, not the kind that makes you want to flee, but the kind that hums beneath your skin like a quiet, rising tide. Neither of you spoke on the short walk to the building. You could feel the beat of your own pulse in your throat, your palms, your knees. Every footstep up the stairwell echoed like a question you were still answering with every breath. When he unlocked the door to the apartment, you stepped into a place that somehow felt like him , even if it wasn’t entirely his. The living room was tidy but lived-in: a half-empty water bottle on the counter, a sweatshirt slung over the back of the couch, a flickering neon sign in the shape of a guitar hanging above the TV. There was a faint scent of cologne and fabric softener in the air , something warm and clean and utterly disarming.
You glanced around, instinctively nervous. “Are you sure no one’s—?”
“I live with Jake,” Heeseung said, gently tugging you further inside. “But he’s out for the weekend. Swear.” Jake was obviously still at Sunghoon’s house. So, you nodded, cheeks warm as he guided you toward the hallway. Every step felt louder now, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could feel the shift happening between you, something solemn, something sacred as he led you into his bedroom. The door clicked shut behind you. His room was dimly lit, the overhead light off, only the glow from a desk lamp in the corner casting soft shadows along the walls. Posters of concerts and bands you half-recognized were pinned above his bed. His guitar leaned against the corner, pick still nestled in the strings. The bed was made, barely and a hoodie lay crumpled on the chair by his desk. You turned to him again, breath caught somewhere in your chest. Heeseung was standing just a few feet away now, hands at his sides, gaze never leaving yours.
“Are you still sure?” he asked again, quiet and reverent. And again, you said yes. The word had barely left your mouth before he was stepping toward you, not fast, never fast , just sure, just gentle. His hand reached up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, fingertips brushing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were real. Then he was kissing you, slow and careful, lips warm and familiar now. The kiss wasn’t like the one in the car, not teasing, not frantic. This one was patient, intentional. Like he was asking permission with every soft press of his mouth, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your yes.
The rest happened slowly. Clothes were shed like old skins, your nerves still there, still fluttering like moths in your stomach, but softened by the way he touched you. Every brush of his fingers was careful, every motion deliberate. He wasn’t rushing, wasn’t teasing. He just was warm and present, grounding you with the weight of his hands and the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred. He kissed your shoulder. Your collarbone. The hollow behind your ear. He held you like you were something breakable and beautiful. When it finally happened, he was looking into your eyes, his hand laced with yours, thumb brushing over your knuckles to calm you. It hurt at first, of course it did, but it wasn’t scary. Not with him. And eventually the pain faded into something else entirely, something you couldn’t name, only feel.
His hands caressed your body like you were made of porcelain. His breathing hard groans falling from his lips with the severance of a melody you’d never want to forget. “Fuck” He grunted, his hips meetings yours. His forehead sheen with sweat fell against your naked shoulder, lining the skin with searing hot kisses.
“You feel so good.” His grip on your hips tightened as he allowed himself to go faster, rougher. The sound of skin, mixing with your breathy moans and Heeseung groans were the only sound in the room.
“Harder.” You choked, letting your head fall against the pillow, your hair creating a halo on the satin pillow case. “Please, Heeseung, harder.” You were begging, pleading for me. It felt too good, better than anything you’ve ever experienced and you just couldn’t get enough.
Heeseung groaned, a low groan that rumbled deep within his belly all the way up his throat. “You want it harder?” He asks, His eyes locked onto yours as you send him a frantic nod.
“Yes!” Your voice was almost shrill. “Please.” Your hands found his back, racking your nails up and down the skin — certainly leaving red marks in their wake. Heeseung’s hips pushed harder, the force of his thirst sending your body jerking upwards.
“Oh my god.” You hissed. “Oh my fucking–” Your voice was cut off with his lips falling to yours, his mouth swallowing the sound of your pleasure. He broke away from the kiss with a low moan and a shaky breath. Your breath caught as you tilted your head back, overwhelmed and undone in the best way. Heeseung murmured quiet things into your skin, not jokes, not one-liners, just your name. Just reassurance. Just closeness. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t fireworks. It was better than that. It was real.
When it was over, he didn’t roll away or laugh or ask how it was. He just stayed there beside you, your bodies tangled beneath his sheets, his thumb brushing lazy circles against your hipbone. You rested your cheek on his shoulder, skin still tingling, your heart finally slowing. And for a long time, neither of you said a word. You didn’t need to. Soon, you got up — put your clothing back on and thank Heeseung for all he did that night. You went to your dorm with an even bigger smile on your face.
Morning sunlight seeps through the cracks in your dorm blinds, painting golden stripes across your duvet and the delicate curve of your shoulder. You stir slowly, not with the usual groggy resistance of a school day, but with something like ease, something light. Your limbs feel loose beneath your sheets, your chest warm, your lips tingling with memories. Last night plays on a soft reel behind your eyelids: Heeseung’s hands, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing worth seeing, the way his voice trembled when he asked if you were sure. You smile before your eyes are even open. It wasn’t just physical , it was something else entirely. Something safe. Something soft. You don’t know what it means yet, or what it should mean, but right now, that doesn’t matter. What matters is the way you feel in this moment. Like maybe, for once, you’re not the DUF. Maybe, for once, you’re the girl someone actually wanted.
You get dressed slowly, pulling on your favorite jeans and a simple top that fits you right, a new confidence buzzing just beneath your skin. Your fingers hover over your phone more than once, tempted to text him, something casual, something teasing, but you stop yourself. You’ll see him in Lit anyway. And God, you can’t even begin to guess what that’s going to be like now. The walk to class is a blur of humming thoughts and overplayed memories, your heart skipping each time you think about him. You wonder if he’ll say something. You wonder if you should. You wonder if this is the start of something... more.
When you arrive at the building, the usual crowd of students loiters by the lecture hall, but your eyes find him immediately. Heeseung is leaning against the wall near the door, black hoodie pulled over his head despite the early morning sun, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He’s looking down at his shoes, but as if sensing you, his head lifts, and there it is. That smile. Soft and crooked and just for you. “Look who finally made it,” you call as you approach, your tone light and teasing, the banter slipping into place like a well-worn jacket. “Didn’t think I’d see your face again after last night.”
Heeseung chuckles, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside you. “Please. You think you’d get rid of me that easy?”
You roll your eyes, a grin curling at your mouth. “You’re relentless.”
“Persistent,” he corrects with a grin of his own. “There’s a difference.” The air between you hums with something more than your usual back-and-forth, a soft awareness, a shared secret, the ghost of his hands still lingering on your waist. Heeseung’s eyes flick over your face for a moment longer than they usually would, like he’s trying to memorize something. Then, as you’re about to reach for the classroom door, he says your name, softly, tentatively. You pause, looking up at him. His expression has shifted, and it’s not teasing now. It’s serious. Vulnerable, almost. Like there’s a weight on his chest and he’s finally ready to let it tumble out.
“Hey, I—” Heeseung starts, but he doesn’t get far.
“HEESEUNG!” Beomgyu’s voice barrels down the hallway like a wrecking ball, all volume and chaos, and before either of you can react, an arm is slung around Heeseung’s shoulder. “Dude! Party tonight. Sunghoon’s place again. It’s gonna be chill this time, no cops, I swear. You’re coming, right? And you,” Beomgyu points to you with a grin, “you better come too. You’re the new fan favorite.” You let out a laugh, caught off guard, but Heeseung just gives Beomgyu a playful shove. “Yeah, alright. We’ll be there.”
“We?” Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, smirking as he wiggles his brows. “Noted.”
And just like that, Beomgyu is disappearing down the hallway, already off to deliver his invite to the next unsuspecting soul. You glance back at Heeseung, your brows furrowed just slightly. “What were you gonna say? Before Beomgyu... you know.”
Heeseung looks at you for a beat, quiet. And in that silence, something shifts again, but this time it doesn’t rise to the surface. Instead, he just shrugs, sliding his hands back into his pockets. “Nothing,” he says casually, a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “Forgot what I was gonna say.”
You want to press, there’s something in the way he says it, the way his eyes flick away from yours for half a second too long, but you don’t. Not here, not now. So instead, you just nod, falling into step beside him as you both walk into the lecture hall. You’re still smiling. But this time, your heart is wrapped a little tighter in wonder.
The air tonight feels heavier, not unpleasant, just weightier, charged in a way that isn’t quite like the other parties. The crowd buzzes with the usual electricity, the low thump of bass vibrating through the floorboards, bodies weaving and pressing in rhythm to a beat no one truly hears. But you do. You feel it in your bones, in your blood, in the skin of your arms where goosebumps rise as you and Heeseung step through the doorway into Sunghoon’s house. He walks beside you, shoulder brushing yours, laughter spilling from his lips as he says something teasing about your outfit. It’s familiar, the way he leans in a little closer than necessary, the way he always seems to find something to comment on, from the way you wear your hair to how your drink tastes like battery acid. He’s still the same. But you’re not. Not exactly.
Because now you know what his breath sounds like when it trembles. You know how he looks when he’s above you, eyes full of questions and reverence like you were a poem he wasn’t sure he was allowed to read. You know what it’s like to be wanted, not by anyone, but by him. And that knowledge sits in your chest like a small fire, curling smoke and heat into your thoughts as you walk beside him. You make your way to the drink table where Beomgyu and Jay are pouring vodka into plastic cups with reckless enthusiasm, laughing at something Jake said. It’s all easy, the familiar chaos of a college party, but something inside you feels less swayed by the glitter of it now. Like you’ve seen what matters more, in the quiet hush of a dorm room when all the noise falls away and someone holds you like you're worth the wait.
You glance toward Heeseung, catching sight of him joining in a game of beer pong with Sunghoon. His laugh is loud, tilted back in his throat, his hair flopping into his eyes as he lines up a shot. He’s magnetic like this, full of life, a little too much, and always just enough. You don’t even notice the tap on your shoulder until you feel it. You turn around to see Soobin. Your stomach doesn’t flutter. Your pulse doesn’t spike. You don’t feel weak in the knees or dizzy in the way you once imagined you would. All you feel is... calm.
His smile is soft, almost sheepish, like he’s approaching a wounded animal. “Hey,” he says, voice raised slightly over the music. “I wanted to say… I’m sorry. For what happened the other night. Wonyoung was out of line, and honestly? Everyone knew it.” You blink at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. He rubs the back of his neck, eyes dipping away as if afraid to meet yours fully.
“That… that does make me feel better,” you say after a pause, offering him a genuine smile. It’s small but sincere, the kind of smile you give someone when you’ve outgrown the pedestal they used to stand on. He brightens at that. “Good. You didn’t deserve that.” The conversation unfolds easily, light, harmless. He asks about class, about your professor’s weird rant last week, and you laugh with him, grateful that it’s not awkward or strange. For a few minutes, it’s like nothing ever changed. But every now and then, your gaze slides across the room, to where Heeseung is, to the way his hand gestures wildly in the air after making a perfect shot, the way his eyes scan the crowd and catch on you. You feel it each time, that invisible thread tugging between you both, fragile but undeniable.
Soobin leans closer, tipping his head toward you. “Hey, the music’s kind of loud down here. Do you wanna go upstairs to talk?” You hesitate, only for a moment. This is what you’d wanted, wasn’t it? Alone time with Soobin. This moment; the intimacy, the possibility of something real with him, it used to be the end goal. It was the prize at the finish line. You look back toward the beer pong table. Heeseung isn’t there anymore. You swallow, forcing a smile as you nod. “Sure. Upstairs sounds good.” Soobin leads the way, and you follow, but there’s a hollow tug in your chest, a low ache that whispers: something’s different now. Something’s shifted. And you can’t quite tell if you’re walking toward what you want… or away from it.
The upstairs hall is quieter, hushed like a cathedral built out of creaking floorboards and dim lighting. Soobin’s footsteps are steady ahead of you, confident, calm. You follow him down the hallway, the thump of bass from the party below now muffled by layers of drywall and closed doors. He opens one at the end, someone’s bedroom, likely Sunghoon’s spare guest room and steps inside without hesitation. You enter, arms crossing over your chest instinctively. The room is sparsely decorated: a bed, a desk, a dresser with a dusty mirror. A single lamp glows faintly in the corner, casting everything in warm amber light. The kind of soft hue that makes everything feel a little too intimate.
You sit down on the edge of the bed, hands fidgeting in your lap. Soobin stands near the dresser, one hand running through his hair like he’s searching for the right words, the right entry point into something he’s been building toward. You try not to think about how your heartbeat doesn’t pick up like it used to. How your stomach doesn’t flutter. How the moment you used to dream about, you and Soobin alone in a room, about to have that talk, feels just a little off-center now. He turns to you, expression unreadable. “Can I ask you something?” You nod.
He gives a breathy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Do you… have a crush on me?”
The question hits you like cold water to the face. You blink. “What?”
“I mean,” he shrugs, “you’re here with me. Alone. Talking like this. And I’ve noticed you kind of… watching me sometimes. Not in a bad way, I just — I figured maybe you liked me.”
Your mouth opens, but no words come out right away. You weren’t expecting this — not so directly, not right now. But wasn’t this the whole plan? The makeover, the party, the studying with Heeseung, the kiss that didn’t happen, wasn’t this what you’d wanted from the beginning? So you say it. Quietly, like you’re repeating a line in a play. “Yes. I think I do.” Soobin smiles softly, like that was the answer he expected. He walks over, taking the spot next to you on the bed. There’s a small silence, not quite awkward but definitely unsure. Then, without another word, he leans in. And kisses you. It’s gentle. Thoughtful. His lips press to yours with an easy kind of care. But instead of feeling sparks or butterflies or that dizzy, swept-away sensation you thought would come, all you feel is stillness. Like kissing someone underwater. The moment suspended. Weightless. Hollow.
You don’t know how long it lasts, but eventually, your hand moves to his chest and you pull away, slow and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, eyes avoiding his. Your heart pounds for all the wrong reasons. “I… I don’t think I feel what I thought I felt.”
Soobin tilts his head slightly, studying your face. “What do you mean?” You look down at your hands, twisting your fingers in your lap. “I thought I liked you. I really did. But it doesn’t feel… right. Not like I thought it would. Not like…” You trail off, not daring to finish the sentence. Soobin hums thoughtfully, like he’s already solved the puzzle.
“Ah,” he says, nodding once. “I get it.”
Your eyes lift, hopeful. “You do?”
A soft chuckle escapes him. “You like Heeseung.” It’s not a question. It’s a truth laid bare between you. You pause, breath catching in your throat. Then you nod. Slowly. “I think I’m in love with him.” There’s a moment of quiet. Not heavy. Not tense. Just the shared acknowledgment of something that’s been true for a while now, you just hadn’t let yourself name it.
To your surprise, Soobin smiles. Not bitter or wounded, just warm. Maybe even relieved. “I think you should tell him,” he says.
You swallow. “You think I should?” He nods, leaning back on his hands. “I think you’d regret it if you didn’t.”
Your heart flutters with something different this time, not nerves, not fear. Hope. You stand up, legs shaky beneath you, but your decision anchors you. As you move toward the door, Soobin calls out softly, just before your hand touches the knob. “He loves you back, you know.”
You turn your head, eyes wide. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he says, simple and sure. You nod once, lips parting just slightly. “I hope you’re right.” And then you step into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind you. The music is still thudding below. The party still rages. But you’ve never felt more clear. Never more certain of who, or what, you want. It’s not about proving anything anymore. Not about being experienced or wanted by anyone. It’s about him. And tonight, you’re going to tell him.
You step down the creaky stairs, the bass from the party still thumping like a distant pulse beneath your skin. Your breath catches, a subtle panic fluttering in your chest as you scan the crowded living room for Heeseung’s familiar face. Your eyes dart past groups of laughing friends, clusters of conversations, and neon lights that blur faces into hazy outlines. But he’s nowhere to be found. Heart pounding in your throat, you veer toward the kitchen, hoping for some sign, a whisper, a clue. There, leaning casually against the counter, is Jake. His usual smirk falters when he notices your searching gaze. “Hey,” you say, voice barely steady. “Have you seen Heeseung?”
Jake shrugs, tossing a grape into his mouth. “Last I saw, he was in the living room with a bunch of people. Why? You looking for him?” You nod and push past him, a fragile thread of hope knitting itself between your ribs. The living room comes into view, and your steps slow, the air thickening in your lungs like smoke. And then you see him. There, framed by a cluster of familiar faces, is Heeseung. But he isn’t alone. Wonyoung stands close beside him, her body pressed against his in a way that twists something cold and sharp through your heart. His arm snakes possessively around her waist, fingers resting lightly but surely on the curve of her hip. She leans in, lips ghosting across his neck and jaw, a soft, intoxicating murmur escaping her mouth as he whispers back.
The scene unfolds like a cruel play, one you wish you could close your eyes to, but you can’t look away. Your chest caves inward, a hollow ache blossoming beneath your ribs. Your stomach churns, bile rising bitterly as you struggle to breathe through the sudden swell of nausea and heartbreak. You try to wrench your gaze away, but the sight sears into your vision, branding itself onto your soul. You can’t watch. Turning on your heel, you stumble toward the door, desperate to escape the cruel tableau. The room blurs around you, faces, laughter, music, all fading behind the tight clamour of your ragged breaths and pounding heartbeat. Tears spill unbidden from your eyes, tracing warm, salty rivers down your cheeks. Each step away from the party feels heavier than the last, like you’re sinking deeper into a pool of your own shattered dreams.
You reach the night air, the cold biting at your skin but failing to soothe the ache inside. Pulling your phone from your pocket with trembling fingers, you summon an Uber. The glow of the screen feels alien in your hands, like a lifeline thrown across an endless chasm. Inside the car, the world outside dissolves into a blur of streetlights and shadows, but your tears keep falling, a steady cascade that no driver’s small talk or cityscape can interrupt. Your hands grip the seat, knuckles white, as the distance between you and the party grows with every passing mile. You are utterly broken. Stupid, you think bitterly. Stupid for believing, even for a moment, that someone like Lee Heeseung, with his easy charm and dazzling smile, could fall for someone like you. The DUF. The girl who blends into the background. The girl no one notices, the girl no one wants. You were chasing a dream painted in stardust and whispered promises, but it was always just that, a dream. And now, all that’s left is the ache of reality settling cold and hard in your chest.
The days bleed into each other like a slow, endless ache. You find yourself cocooned in your dorm, wrapped in the faded threads of your favorite hoodie, the one that swallows you whole and carries the scent of safety and solitude. The glasses sit perched on your nose, a barrier between the world and the girl who once believed she could be someone else. The weight of silence presses down, heavier than the thick blankets you pull up to your chin. Your phone lies discarded across the bed, buzzing and blinking with countless unanswered texts and missed calls from Heeseung, each one a fresh pang of regret and confusion you’re too scared to confront. You don’t know how to face him. How to face the truth that your heart still aches for the boy who chose someone else, who wrapped his arms around Wonyoung like you were a ghost in the room. You feel like you’ve been stripped bare, every hope unraveling thread by fragile thread. The girl who dreamed of being seen, of being wanted, it’s hard to find her beneath the rubble of broken promises and whispered lies.
Night falls again, the shadows gathering in the corners of your room as if to hold you close in your loneliness. The quiet hum of the city outside is distant and indifferent. You lie there, heart heavy, tears tracing silent rivers down your cheeks, when suddenly there’s a knock at your door. Sharp. Insistent. You don’t want to move, but something in the rhythm of that knock stirs you, a fragile hope tangled with dread. With aching limbs, you pull yourself from the bed, the cold floor a harsh reminder of the world beyond your blankets. You open the door slowly, and there he is, Heeseung. His presence fills the doorway, that familiar, impossible beauty that twists your heart in the best and worst ways. It makes your head spin, your breath catch in your throat.
His eyes search yours, deep pools filled with worry and something you can’t quite name. “Why haven’t you been answering?” he asks softly, voice low, as if afraid to break the fragile silence. “I saw you go upstairs with Soobin the night of the party…” Your throat tightens, the words choking you before you can even think. You take a shaky breath, then whisper, “The deal’s off. You don’t need to worry about making me ‘hot and popular’ anymore.”
His brow furrows, concern deepening. “What happened? Did Soobin hurt you?”
You shake your head, voice trembling but firm. “No. Just… go, Heeseung. Please.”
You reach out, beginning to close the door, but before it shuts, his foot slides gently into the frame, stopping it with quiet insistence. The space between you is charged, a fragile tension stretched thin. His voice is almost a plea. “What’s going on?” The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart begin to crumble. You swallow hard, biting back the tears that burn your eyes, and say the words you’ve been holding in for too long. “I’m tired. Tired of pretending to be someone I’m not. Tired of playing a role, like I can be that girl, the one everyone notices, the one guys actually want.”
Your voice falters, breaking with raw, aching honesty. “Guys don’t want me. Not really. Not like I am. This was an experiment... and it worked for you, but it didn’t work for me. So… can you just go?” The silence hangs between you like a thick fog. You hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears, loud and ragged. This time, your hand moves with quiet finality, closing the door with a definitive click. The sound echoes in the sudden, crushing emptiness of your room. And then, the floodgates break.
You lean back against the door, knees buckling as the tears you held back spill free. The sobs come unbidden, shaking your body, hot and wrenching and real. Each tear a silent confession of heartbreak, loneliness, and the aching desire to be seen, not as a mask, but as the fragile, imperfect soul beneath. In this moment, the girl you tried so hard to hide is raw and vulnerable and fiercely alive. And though it hurts more than words can say, it’s the first step toward something real, toward healing, toward finding the strength to be exactly who you are.
The morning light feels colder somehow, less forgiving as you step out of your dorm room and into the brisk hum of campus life. Today, you wear your armor: a soft, oversized hoodie pulled low over your frame, the familiar weight of your glasses perched on your nose, and leggings that carry no pretense, no flash, no glamour, just you. The girl who sought to dazzle and command attention has quietly slipped away, replaced by someone quieter, more raw, but undeniably real. As you make your way across campus, the chatter and footsteps of other students blur into a dull roar, a soundtrack to your internal storm. The air is thick with the ghosts of last night’s heartache, the sting of broken trust still simmering just beneath your skin. You tell yourself it’s fine. You tell yourself you’re okay. You’ve got this.
The lecture hall door creaks open, and you slip inside, hoping to be invisible, hoping to blend into the shadowy back rows where no one will notice your retreat from the world. But no one really goes unnoticed, especially not in a room charged with unspoken tensions. And then, just as your foot finds the seat furthest from the usual spot beside Heeseung, you hear it, a snide, low comment slicing through the hum of settling students Wonyoung’s voice, sharp and dripping with that familiar edge, echoes just enough for you to catch it. You don’t need to turn around to know it’s aimed right at you. But this time, something’s different. The bite of her words doesn’t sting. The heat of embarrassment doesn’t flush your cheeks. You simply keep walking, your stride steady and unyielding, heart quietly defiant beneath the soft fabric of your hoodie.
You settle into your seat at the very back, far away from the usual orbit of Heeseung’s presence. And yet, even from there, you feel the weight of his gaze, like a hawk circling above, watching, waiting. His eyes flicker toward you in stolen moments, cautious and curious, as if trying to read the new lines etched into your silence. But you refuse to meet his gaze. You bury yourself deeper into your solitude, the words of the lecture washing over you like distant thunder, barely registered by a mind that’s a million miles away. Minutes stretch on, the clock ticking with relentless indifference. You notice the way Heeseung’s fingers tap lightly against the notebook in his lap, his eyes darting toward you in quick, nervous glances. It’s as if he’s searching for a way back in, a crack in the armor you’ve so carefully constructed. But today, you are a fortress, quiet and impenetrable.
When the final bell rings, a sharp and liberating sound, you rise without hesitation, stuffing your books into your bag with brisk efficiency. Heeseung’s voice trails behind you, soft, hopeful, “Hey, wait—Y/n!” but you don’t stop. You don’t turn. The hall swallows your footsteps as you push through the doors, leaving the echoes of his call behind you.
The evening wrapped itself around your dorm room like a velvet shroud, the dim light casting soft shadows over your tangled sheets and the quiet ache that clung to your chest. You lay there, cocooned in your own solitude, the weight of recent nights pressing down like a relentless tide. The world felt heavy and distant, and the thought of moving, speaking, or facing anything at all felt like a mountain too steep to climb. Then, a sharp knock echoed through the silence, jolting you from your quiet reverie. “Please go away, Heeseung,” you mutter, voice thick with exhaustion and guarded pain, already bracing yourself for the storm you didn’t want to weather again.
But the voice that answered wasn’t his. Soft, hesitant, and tinged with something almost vulnerable, Dani’s words floated through the door: “It’s not Heeseung… please, just open up.” Your heart stutters, surprise and a flicker of warmth breaking through the cold shell you’d built. With a weary sigh, you push yourself up, the weight of days pressing down on your limbs, and unlock the door. There, standing in the dim hallway, were Dani and Sakura, faces soft, eyes sincere, their usual confident air replaced with something tender and remorseful. They step inside without hesitation, their presence gentle like a balm, the space between you shrinking as they settle beside your bed.
“We’re so sorry,” Dani begins, voice low and earnest. “For everything. For not being better friends, for not being there when you needed us.” Sakura nods, her eyes shimmering with an unspoken apology. “We love you, Y/n. We do. And we’re sorry for making you feel anything less than amazing.”
Their words settle over you like a gentle rain, the unexpected kindness dissolving some of the walls you didn’t even realize you’d built so high. They smile, shy but genuine, and Dani confesses, “Sometimes, we’re even jealous of you. You make everything seem so effortless, being smart, funny, just... you. We try so hard, but you just shine naturally.” A quiet laugh escapes you, the sound rusty but honest. You joke back, teasing them for their dramatic flattery, and in the warmth of shared laughter, the tension unravels. The three of you fold into a comforting embrace, a hug woven with forgiveness and the promise of mended bonds.
After the moment lingers, Sakura’s voice breaks through, gentle but curious. “So, what about Heeseung? What’s really going on?” Your chest tightens as you recount the complicated arrangement, the late-night talks, and then, the confession that trembles on your lips. “I lost my virginity to him,” you say quietly, the words both heavy and liberating. “And in all of that... I fell in love with him.”
Their faces flicker between surprise and understanding. Sakura’s eyes soften as she speaks, “The way he looks at you... he loves you too, Y/n.” You shake your head, doubt gnawing at you like a silent ache. “But Wonyoung—”
Dani cuts in gently, firm and unwavering. “He doesn’t care about her anymore. And he never looked at Wonyoung the way he looks at you.” For the first time in what feels like forever, you want to believe them. You nod slowly, the weight of hope settling lightly in your chest. They urge you to hear Heeseung out, to let him speak and show you what’s truly there. But before the conversation can spiral further, they shift the mood, inviting you to a get-together at Sunghoon’s happening just minutes away.
At first, you hesitate, the memory of Heeseung and Wonyoung still stinging fresh. “Heeseung and Wonyoung—” you begin. Sakura cuts you off with a firm shake of her head. “They won’t be there. We promise.” That promise, fragile and shimmering with possibility, nudges you forward. You breathe in, steadying your heart, and then you say yes. Together, the three of you leave your room, stepping out into the night with tentative smiles and the fragile threads of renewed friendship and maybe, just maybe, a second chance at love waiting to bloom.
When you pull up to Sunghoon’s house that night, you’re half-expecting the pit in your stomach to grow teeth and chew you alive. But instead, you’re met with the warm, familiar glow of porch lights, the echo of laughter spilling from inside, and the voices of boys you’ve somehow come to know like brothers. Sunghoon, Jake, Jay, and Beomgyu greet you at the door like you’re royalty, like nothing in the world is out of place. They offer you sodas and cheesy jokes, Beomgyu pulling you into a dramatic bow while Jake salutes like you're being welcomed home from war. And for a flicker of a second, you forget it all, the ache, the shame, the heartbreak. You laugh. You actually laugh. You let your shoulders drop. You exist again.
Sakura appears at your side like she’s always belonged there and gives you a little nudge. “Hey,” she says, smiling with all her teeth, “Can you go grab the extra cooler outside? It’s on the deck.”
You squint at her. “You have legs.”
“Yes,” she says sweetly, “but you have main character energy tonight. So scoot.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, pushing through the backdoor into the backyard. And that’s when it happens.
Twinkling fairy lights string above you like constellations pulled down from the sky, wrapped through the branches of Sunghoon’s backyard trees. They blink softly around the bonfire, flames low and lazy, casting shadows across the grass. And there, seated on a log bench near the fire, is Heeseung. His head is bowed, fingers locked together like he’s praying or maybe bracing himself from falling apart. The moment he hears your footsteps, his head jerks up. His eyes meet yours, wide and uncertain. Time hiccups. You stare. He stares. And then, slowly, shakily, he stands.
“I’ve been trying to figure out what I was going to say to you when I saw you again,” he says, voice low but trembling with everything he’s been holding in. “And now… now that you’re actually here, looking like that…”
You blink. “Looking like what? Like a girl who’s no longer hot?” He shakes his head so fast and so fiercely that a laugh escapes your throat without permission.
“No,” he says, stepping toward you. “Looking like you. Just — you. Glasses, hoodie, stubborn scowl and all. You're beautiful.” Your breath stutters. The world sways. You try to speak, to make a joke, to do anything, but your lips don’t work. He fills the silence. “You’re so beautiful,” he says again, his voice stronger now. “And I love you.” You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You’re too stunned. Too overwhelmed. So he continues, and thank God he does.
“When I saw you go upstairs with Soobin that night… I thought I was gonna be sick. I’ve never felt anything like that. Not anger. Not sadness. Jealousy. Like I was losing something that wasn’t even mine to lose.” Your chest aches. You take a step closer, barely breathing. “Wonyoung came up to me after that,” he says, voice rougher now. “Told me she heard you and Soobin hooking up. She tried to kiss me. Said I should get over it. But I didn’t care what she said. Even if you were with Soobin, I didn’t want her. I wanted you. I’ve always wanted you.”
You want to cry. You want to melt. But mostly, you want to run to him.
“I was never going to get in the way of you and him if that’s what you really wanted,” Heeseung continues. “But then, when you told me outside your dorm that it wasn’t going to work out… I knew. I had to tell you how I felt.” His eyes lock on yours with full, unwavering honesty.
“I love you. Just the way you are. And I think I’ve loved you since the moment I saw you at Sunghoon’s party. When you insulted my G.P.A and spilled that drink all over yourself.” He laughs, almost breathless. “That’s when I knew I was doomed.”
A laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, wet and cracked but real. You take one step closer, then another, until the distance is gone. “I kissed Soobin,” you whisper, eyes locked on his. “Upstairs, that night. And it was... fine. But while it was happening, all I could think about was you. That stupid smile of yours, your dumb little jokes, the way you hold the steering wheel with one hand like you're in an action movie... I realized something.”
Heeseung holds his breath.
“I realized that I love you. Your charm, your goofiness, the way you never let me walk on the outside of the sidewalk. I love you, even the parts I think I hate, because it’s you. And I want you.” His mouth opens like he might say something witty, but he doesn't. He just crashes forward and kisses you, fierce, certain, heart-shaking. His hands come to your face, cradling you like you’re something sacred. It’s not gentle, not this time. It’s messy and passionate and breathless, like a whole novel written in one kiss. Like everything unspoken finally found its voice.
When you finally part, foreheads touching, breath mingling, he murmurs, “You’re it for me, Y/n.” You smile, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“And you’re the dumbest genius I’ve ever met,” you say softly, kissing him again.
Somewhere behind you, from the house, you hear Beomgyu shout, “ARE THEY FINALLY MAKING OUT?!” And then Jake yells, “SUNGHOON OWES ME FIFTY BUCKS!”
You both break apart laughing, and Heeseung groans. “God, they’re never gonna let us live this down.”
You grin, cheeks flushed. “Worth it.” Because it is. It always was.
|warnings! cursing, mentions of alcohol and smoking, smut, mdni! protected sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving) fingering, praise kink, piv, throat fucking, choking (slight) porn with plot|
|synopsis! riki has an unspoken rule to never sleep with the same person twice just like reader has a rule to not get romantically involved with anyone right before graduation, but what are rules if not meant to be broken?|
|word count: 17.6k|
The reality of your final year of university could be summed up to one single word; boring. Outside of your lectures and study time all you had the energy for was napping or occasionally meeting friends for a short dinner before racing back home to be in bed at a reasonable hour.
It wasn’t that being studious and focused was a bad thing, but you had expected your time at university to be a little more interesting. Your first year had started with a bang, enrolling in your college with a long distance high school boyfriend who waited all but two months to cheat on you. His infidelity snowballed into a messy breakup, issues with your self image, and what would become the wildest version of yourself you have ever seen.
Through trial and error you were able to confirm it’s true what they say, the best way of getting over someone was to get under somebody else. Your spike of rebellion lasted just under three months and you have been extremely tame since then. It’s not like you enjoyed being intoxicated every weekend and waking up in unfamiliar beds but since then you have not only been single but you’ve been going through what you’re convinced is the longest running dry spell in history.
In the last three years you have only been to a handful of parties, only special occasions such as birthdays or holidays. You would only really get drunk in the safety of your apartment with close friends. Oh and you have shut down any guy that even looked at you suggestively.
You thought it was for the best, that you spent two months enjoying that life in your freshmen year. But with graduation soon approaching the tension was starting to ache in your bones. You needed release in every definition of the word. Which is why you invited your two closest friends over for assistance.
Haewon and Sunoo weren’t exactly party animals but they were a lot more well known than you around campus, each with much bigger friend groups that constantly had something going on. The three of you met in freshman biology and despite some drastic differences, you could not bear to part from each other as the years went on. Your closest friends understood why you are the way you are and they never tried to force you to be anything else. They had both been there for you through it all, they saw first hand how deep in rock bottom you found yourself in all those years ago and they were the ones to help you out.
With all this in mind, you knew your request was going to raise some alarms but that didn’t stop you from asking anyway.
“Wait, let me get this straight…you want us to dress you up, take you out to a party and help you hook up with someone tonight?” Sunoo's eyes were nearly popping out of his head. He was pacing across your living room shaking his head as if you had just told him you were dropping out of school.
“Are you okay, sweetie? Did something happen? We’ll stay in with you tonight!” Haewon suggested in that soft tone of voice she seems to only reserve for you. You only shake your head in response, placing your hands on your lap to remain steady despite the nerves settling just under your skin.
“I appreciate the concern, but I just need one night to let loose. I’ve been so stressed with finals and my courses. I’ve been thinking and I realized that after what happened I put my all into my studies without giving myself a break. It’s true I went off the deep end in freshman year but I won’t let that happen again, I just need one night to relax and then I can go back to normal.
“And the hooking up part is not required, I just want to have a good night and if you guys happen to know a guy that would be down for a casual hook up then even better. But really, I just want to go out and have a drink or two.” You present them your award winning smile, knowing Sunoo could never resist it.
The two look at each other, seemingly having a silent conversation with their eyes before turning back to you. Haewon is the first to nod, “Fine, you’re a grown woman and we trust you but if we’re taking you with us tonight then we reserve the right to pull the plug on this if we see you get out of hand. I mean it, sweets, if you get too wasted I’m taking you home or if I see you cozying up to some sketchy weirdo the same applies.” Instantly you nod in agreement. Since you haven’t been out much, you don’t know too many students on campus, you don’t want to get too comfortable or get close to the wrong guy and you trust that Haewon and Sunoo would never leave you on your own.
Sunoo abruptly stops his pacing in the middle of the room with a bright smile on his face, “Alright, lets get you some food because we’re going out tonight!”
The odds were highly in your favor tonight. After grabbing some fast food, Sunoo had texted one of his friends and found that they were throwing a small party at their house. Sunoo assured you Jake’s definition of a “small party” was anything but. However he was glad it was a party hosted by a close friend of his in a place he was already familiar with. Everything after that was almost too easy. Haewon and Sunoo dolled you up as if their life depended on it, insisting it was a casual party but that wasn’t an excuse to not look good. Before you knew it, you found yourself passing through the threshold of Jake's house clad in a curve hugging outfit that teased just enough of your cleavage to entice anyone with eyes. Sunoo had curled and styled your hair whilst Haewon did your makeup. You looked stunning and you felt like it too. It’s not like you never wore makeup or cute outfits, everything you’re wearing is from your own closet after all, but this was a night out and you wanted to put just a bit more effort to look better than normal.
“Ok, remember, if at any point you want to leave just say the word and we’ll go.” Haewon reminded you as you entered the living area. “No questions asked, seriously.” Sunoo reiterated whilst giving your arm a squeeze. You smiled at your friends as you took in the sight around you. There were people scattered all over the open living room space, some dancing in the corner, others lounging on the sofas pushed against the wall. At your arrival a tall guy with dark hair stood up from the couch with a smile on his face.
“Sunoo, you made it!” He quickly came up to greet the boy on your right before doing the same with Haewon. His eyes then dropped to you and his smile never wavered, “Hey, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Jay.” You smiled up at him and introduced yourself in kind.
“Jay, this is our close friend, y/n, I’ve mentioned her before.” Sunoo explains to which Jay nods with a look of recognition on his face. “Oh, shit, yeah I’ve seen you around but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party. It’s nice to finally meet you. Sunoo talks about you all the time, all good things.” He then offers the three of you a drink, guiding you towards the kitchen. Jay walked with you while explaining this was his place and that he lived here with three other guys, Jake, Sunghoon, and Riki. He was kind enough to offer up his private bathroom upstairs in case you needed one instead of the guest bathroom downstairs that was probably contaminated with puke, piss, and other unspoken bodily fluids.
As Jay was serving each of you your drink of choice another guy with longer hair stumbled into the kitchen with a bright smile on his face. His eyes were wide and his cheeks were bright red, a clear tell of his soberness or lack thereof.
“Sunoo! You’ll never believe who’s here, Heeseung is back dude! He’s visiting and he's asking for you!” The guy informed excitedly, nearly jumping up and down as he did so. Another guy approached from behind, hands in his pockets and dark hair combed back to show off his strong features.
“Jake, where's my phone? Oh, hey Sunoo, Haewon.”
Sunoo wrapped an arm around your shoulders as if forcing their attention onto you now, “Guys, this is our friend, y/n! y/n, this is Jake and Sunghoon, two of the other guys that live here.” You nodded in understanding and smiled at the two with a small wave of your hand, “It’s nice to meet you guys.”
The one with the longer hair, Jake, blinked once before smiling so wide you’d think it would cause him pain. “Oh my god, we’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you! Sorry for all this, I’ve probably had way too many. Hey, you should meet Heeseung too! He used to live here but he graduated last year and moved away, that's how we got stuck with Riki as a roommate.”
“I heard that.” A deeper voice echoed from behind you causing goosebumps to rise on the back of your neck. You turned just in time to find a much taller guy entering the kitchen with a bottle of water in his hand, long blonde hair pulled back with a pair of black sunglasses. He wore dark baggy jeans and a grey hoodie, slightly zipped down to reveal a black tank top underneath. His fingers were adorned with silver rings and his wrists circled with a thin chain bracelet. It wasn’t until you felt Sunoo pinch the back of your arm that you realized you were staring.
“Be nice, Jake. Riki is like the baby of the house.” Sunghoon teased with a proud smirk. The blonde shook his head and you noticed how his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. Haewon looked over to you smirking at the heat in your eyes before turning back to Riki.
“Hey, Nishimura, have you met y/n?” Haewon smirks as she watches the blonde's eyes slowly travel to you. He doesn't bother hiding the way his eyes travel over your body taking you in for the first time. He then nods at you without a hint of interest in his eyes and you feel all hope of flirting with him deflate. You give him a tight lipped smile back and nod as well before turning back to face Jay again just as he hands you your drink.
“Jungwon’s waiting for me out back for a smoke, I’ll catch ya’ll later.” The blonde nods once more before disappearing into the crowd once again and you're left wishing he would’ve stayed. You swore you had never seen him before and it was pure torture that you spent however long without knowing a man as pretty as him was walking around your campus. There was no way a guy like him was single is what you told yourself as you chugged a large portion of your drink.
“I’m going out with them to see Heeseung, are you good here with Haewon?” Sunoo asked to which the two of you nodded. The other guys smiled at you and told you to meet them outside whenever you wanted.
Once they were gone, Haewon quickly turns to you with a smirk on her face. “I believe we found your gentleman caller for the night.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, you knew it had been a while since you’ve been with anyone but surely you would’ve noticed if one of the guys was flirting with you?
“I’m talking about Riki.” A wicked grin painted itself on his lips. “Riki? The same Riki that didn’t even say a word to me?” Haewon only scoffed, “Did you see the way he looked at you? He basically eye fucked you in front of all of us, even the other guys caught that.” You only shook your head in denial, “Yeah that doesn’t cancel out how he didn’t speak to me at all. How am I supposed to work with that?”
“You don't get it, Riki is perfect for what you’re looking for. He never really talks about his love life, least of all in front of me, but Sunoo has mentioned that he’s not the relationship type. He’s too occupied with classes and practice or something, whatever, the point is he only does casual hookups but he has a strict rule to never sleep with the same person twice. Something about not wanting to lead anyone on. Sunoo said that he doesn’t hook up often, just whenever he feels stressed like he needs to release some steam and I remember hearing something about an upcoming performance taking up most of his free time so the fact that he’s here tonight and not in the studio can only mean one thing.” Haewon smirks at you with a hint of mischief in her eyes.
With this a smirk rises on your own lips to match her own. “Oh, well I guess I should leave a lasting impression then.”
The party was in full swing now, you and Haewon have had a couple more drinks just enough for you to start to feel a slight buzz. You spent the first half of the party asking her about Riki, she let you know that he was a year younger and a dance major. He transferred last year from another school, he met Heeseung and Jake first so when Heeseung graduated he personally chose Riki to take over his room.
Now you had your back pressed to her as you swayed your hips in time with the song. Sunoo had found his way back to you with Heeseung and Jake in tow. The three were now dancing around you as well with Heeseung and Jake occasionally going into the kitchen for another round of ‘shot o’clock’.
“You’ve got eyes on you, sweets.” Haewon's voice in your ear raised goosebumps down your spine, her hands tightened around your waist leading you to grind into her. You didn’t need to look up to know who she was referring to, you could feel his stare burning your skin. You moved your hair, exposing the skin of your collarbone as you danced against Haewon all without looking up to meet his eyes across the room. It wasn’t until the song slowed down a bit that you looked up to meet his gaze. Riki Nishimura was in fact staring right at you without bothering to look away once he’s been caught. A small smirk rises on his lips whilst he continues to watch you grind on your friend. He slowly tilts his head back as he brings his water bottle up to his lips, you can’t look away as he drinks down the water, watching as his throat moves. The sight alone leaves you craving water of your own to which you straighten against Haewon and inform her that you’ll be getting water from the kitchen.
She gives you a knowing look and sends a wink your way. The kitchen is still just as crowded as it was before without a single water bottle in sight.
“You’d think a house full of athletes and musicians would be stocked up on water, right?” Riki steps closer until he’s right by your side, “It’s y/n, right?” You nod. “I have some in my room, I can bring you one if you’d like…unless you wanna come with me?” He’s standing so close now you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes, he had to be about a foot taller than you and the fact alone was sending shivers right down to your core. His eyes now had a faint red hue surely thanks to his time spent outside with the others.
“Lead the way.” The smile on your face is incredibly flirtatious and the look in your eyes was anything but subtle, if what Haewon said is true then there’s no reason to hide your intentions. Riki guides you up the stairs towards the last room at the end of the hall with his hand just ghosting the small of your back the entire way.
His bedroom was a lot neater than you expected, there was a bed with a black frame and dark black and grey bedding in the center of the room, a full body mirror leaning against the corner right next to a tv with a gaming console and a small black leather couch across from that. There was a door in the corner which you could only assume led to a closet and another that was slightly left opened which revealed an ensuite bathroom.
“This used to be Heeseung's room before he moved out, since he was the oldest he got to pick the master bedroom, when I moved in the other guys were too lazy to move around so they offered it to me despite me being the youngest and the newbie. I think Jake secretly hates me for it though.” He chuckles as he answers the unspoken question in your eyes as you inspect his large room. There were vinyls lined on the wall, an old record player set up nicely with a Kendrick vinyl sitting waiting to be played. You watch the boy lean down to a small mini fridge next to his couch grabbing you a water bottle as promised.
“Thank you.” He nods in response, leaning against his desk and crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes never leave you even when you take a sip of the water. “How come I’ve never seen you around here before? Sunoo’s talked about you so much since I moved in. I expected to meet you a long time ago.”
You shrug in response, closing the water bottle before answering him verbally, “Parties aren’t really my thing, not anymore at least.” He nodded, “What changed?” His head tilts slightly awaiting a response from you.
“I’ve been stressed, needed something to get my mind off of things. I graduate this year so I haven’t had a moment to breathe since the semester started. I just wanted to relax…even if it’s just for one night.” You meet his eyes as you say that, hoping he understood exactly what you meant. The corners of his lips tilt upwards and you know you got him right where you want him.
“I hope tonight is meeting your expectations then.” He smirks up at you noticing how you took a step closer to him. “It’s getting there.” Your voice is as smooth as silk now, despite it being a while since you’ve made a move on anyone like this it felt like second nature to fall back into this flirtatious roll. You were always confident therefore flirting came naturally to you.
Riki raised an eyebrow in amusement, “Oh? What could I do to help make sure you’re getting exactly what you’re looking for tonight?” You take another step towards him, now standing at arm’s length. With him leaning against his desk as he is, you're almost the same height. His long legs are extended out, leaving just enough space for you to stand in between if you so wanted to.
“You could lock the door?” Your voice is suggestive with an underlying sensual tone that was impossible to miss. Riki’s smirk turns into a wicked grin, one that sends shivers all the way down your spine, “It’s been locked since we walked in, baby.”
With that he leans forward to grab your wrist pulling you toward him with his hands wrapping around your waist just as quickly, the water bottle drops to the ground forgotten. Without a second to waste, Riki crashes his lips onto yours. Your fingers instinctively rake into his hair, feeling the blonde locks under your fingertips. His left hand travels upward to hold the back of your neck, his other gripping your waist tightly. You meet his aggressive kiss and match it in kind, biting his bottom lip softly and making the first move to slide your tongue into his mouth. The kiss was rough and wanting, clearly a form of release for both of you.
The sensation was bordering on overwhelming, your skin buzzed wherever he touched and his lips molded against your own so naturally you were sure they were always meant to do so. With the hand resting on the back of your neck he pulls softly at your hair, just enough for you to tilt your head back so his lips could make their descent towards your jaw and neck. Riki pressed sloppy kisses all along your jawline and you couldn’t hold back the sighs that fell from your lips even if you tried. The blonde seemingly liked the noises you were making and decided he would rather die than have you stop which is how he found himself wrapping his lips around the sensitive spot on your neck just above your collarbone, his teeth nipped at your skin and then he sucked and licked until your sighs turned into whimpers for more.
Once satisfied, Riki let go of your skin with a pop, smirking at the dark red spot beginning to form. “Pretty.” He whispered as he swiped his thumb over the bruising mark, smiling to himself more than to you. At that you leaned forward, arching against him to feel the evidence of his arousal pushing against your stomach. Riki’s hips instinctively bucked upwards into you, searching for any ounce of friction they could find. Your eyes met his full of heat and desire, his stare bewitched you and before either one of you could do or say anything else you found yourself dropping to your knees in front of him. Something compelled your movements, you had never felt such a strong desire to go down on someone before but the look in his eyes and his flushed skin was intoxicating.
Riki watched you with a hint of bewilderment flashing across his gaze though quickly replaced with pure molten at the sight of you kneeling before him, your soft hands caressing his clothed thighs and hips before ultimately reaching his button and zipper. Your eyes travelled up to his as if asking for permission, Riki could come from the look in your eyes alone as he slowly nodded, “Go ahead, baby.”
Hesitation was no longer a word you were familiar with as soon as Riki gave you the okay to continue, you drop his pants and boxers down in one go admiring the way his dick sprang out all hard and angry red at the tip. Your mouth quite literally watered at the sight and you wasted not another second before wrapping a hand around him. Above you, Riki lets out an audibly sigh of relief, the feeling of your hand on him was too much and not enough all at once. He needed so much more but he understood you controlled the pace right now, he didn’t want to push you any farther than you were willing to go.
Your thumb travels up to collect the bit of precum on his slit before slowly dragging it down the length of his cock. He was big, probably bigger than any others you’ve taken, but the fact only excited you more. Once you reached the base you leaned in closer to slowly spit on the tip biting your lips as you both watched it slide down his length just as your thumb did before. Without taking him into your mouth, you press a delicate kiss to his tip and slowly stick your tongue out just to feel his skin.
Riki groans above you, he wasn’t used to this kind of attention before a blowjob, usually girls would rip his pants off and get right to it, shoving his dick into their mouths as deep as it can go. But the way you’re admiring him, touching him so sensually is making him stutter on his own sighs. “F-fuck..please.” It was so quiet you just barely heard it over the sound of your own breathing. A gentle smile paints itself on your lips with a hint of mischief. How could you deny him when he asked so nicely?
The moment your soft lips wrap around his tip Riki lets out an uncharacteristic whimper that caught both of you by surprise. Your eyes never leave his face as you ever so slowly push more of him into your mouth, it felt so heavy it was addicting, you needed more. Your left hand reaches up to wrap around what can’t fit in your mouth, squeezing and stroking at no particular pace. “Shit, that’s good.” His hands drop to hold your hair and cradle the back of your head, he wasn’t quite pushing your head down but you can tell he wanted to. Riki groaned as he threw his head back once he felt your tongue gliding on the underside of his dick, a mix of spit and precum spilled from the corners of your mouth. You pushed off for a moment to catch your breath, not missing the way Riki’s fingers tighten around your hair as if wanting to keep you exactly where you were. With a smirk on your lips you rested your right hand on his hip to stabilize yourself, you were just about to take him back in when a flash of red ink by your hand caught your eye. Your curious fingers pushed the hem of his hoodie up to reveal a tattoo of a kiss mark right on his left hip. That has got to be the sluttiest tattoo a man could ever get and it only turned you on even more, you couldn’t help yourself from leaning forward to press a kiss onto the ink smiling upon hearing Riki sigh.
“I want you to fuck my throat.” You’re not sure what exactly compelled you to utter those words, having never actually done that before you probably shouldn’t suggest it so casually. Riki’s eyes flash before his eyebrows furrow together as he studies your reaction. “You sure?” You appreciate him asking but you couldn’t allow yourself a moment to think about it so you nodded instantly, reaching both hands now to rest against his hips. You were starting to understand there was just something about Riki Nishimura, you were convinced you would do just about anything right now if he only asked.
Before you could dwell on the possibilities of his lips being slicked with some kind of hypnotizing poison, Riki was slowly pushing himself between your lips once again. He started with shallow thrusts wanting to ensure you got used to the feeling of him being in control for something so intimate, his right hand grabbed your hair into a makeshift ponytail whilst his left cradled the side of your face, thumb coming down to wipe the corner of your mouth.
“Fuck, baby, tap my hips if it’s too much.” He searches your eyes for a sign of understanding before a groan pushes through his throat just as he thrusts as far into your mouth as he can go. He feels your throat constrict around him and he swears for a moment his vision goes white. Seeing you sitting there so prettily taking him into your mouth like you were made for it was enough for Riki’s abs to tense under his hood.
Another groan escapes his kiss bitten lips at the feeling of you swallowing around him. He swore he could feel the back of your throat with how deep he was thrusting. “Doing so good, shit. Feels so good, y/n.”
Hearing your name fall from his lips in that tone had you absolutely drooling for him, you couldn’t stop one of your hands from traveling down between your legs in response. In your defense, this had to be one of the hottest things you’ve ever done so, naturally, touching yourself through your clothing at this moment felt right. What was natural to you, however, was completely earth shattering for Riki. The moment he saw your hand slip between your legs he practically had to bite down onto his lip until he bled to stop what would’ve been an embarrassingly whiny moan.
He couldn’t believe it, you were actually getting turned on by this, this was probably just as pleasurable for you as it was for him if the hand rubbing your clothed clit and teary wide eyes was any sign. In an instant Riki gently pulled you off of him, relishing in the way you choked on your own spit at the influx of air. Riki was sure he’d never seen anyone so beautiful in such a messy state. “C’mere.” He helps you up and quickly guides you backwards onto his bed, shrugging off the remainder of his clothing on the way. His greedy hands were on you, pulling at your clothing to reveal more of your skin, you tried your best to help him but you were so ridiculously distracted by his bare chest now on display. It took everything in you not to lean forward and kiss and lick any and every inch of skin you could reach. You realized now that he had another tattoo, a giant one tracing the length of his side reading “Blessed.”
“Eyes on me baby, I wanna see you too.” He mumbles against your lips upon noticing your distracted state. With his lips on yours you managed to remove the rest of your clothing, earning a noise in response from Riki that sounded like something between a grunt and a moan. “Fuck, you’re unreal.” His eyes travel down your figure with his right hand following the trail, he grips at your waist and your hips before sliding between your thighs. The moan that stumbles from your lips is pornagraphic to Riki’s ears, he watches you tilt your head back as your hands grip onto his biceps.
“You’re fucking soaked, baby. All that just from sucking me off?” His voice is dripping with bashful pride, you couldn't deny it even if you tried. In a way that is entirely too delicate, Riki guides you to lie down on his bed, hovering over you before pressing his lips to yours in what had to be the most intimate kiss you’ve shared all night. You lose yourself in the feeling of his lips trailing down your body only blinking your eyes open once his kiss makes its way to the inside of your thigh.
“Wait, no..I need to feel you, please.” Your attempt at pulling him back up to you is futile against his grip on your thighs, “Fuck, let me taste you, sweetheart.” You only shake your head again, this time pulling at his hair until he’s hovering above you again.
“You can’t just give me the best head of my life and not expect me to return the favor.” He groans into your neck, sucking another mark by your ear. “You can return the favor by making me come on your cock, sound good?” Riki nearly chokes on your words, nodding instantly, “Yes ma’am.”
Without having to ask, Riki presses a kiss to your lips once more before reaching over to his bedside table to pull out what you can only assume is a condom. You can only watch in anticipation as he rolls it onto his length with practiced ease. Within a couple breathless moments, he’s rubbing his slick tip over your entrance, collecting your arousal before slowly pushing inside.
The stretch is expected having only relied on your fingers for far too long, however Riki's size and force has you clenching around him so tight he actually stutters for a moment. A dull ache settles in your core from the intrusion causing a loud moan to force itself from your throat.
“Fuck, angel, I’m not even fully inside you yet..fuckk let me in baby you’re squeezing me so goddamn tight.” He grunts, hiding his face in your neck to control himself otherwise he’s convinced this would end far too early. You whine in response, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.
“Shit, that’s it angel you’re doing so good, feels so good for me.” With one final thrust you find yourself completely stuffed full with his dick. A shared moan pushes past both of your lips at the feeling. “Still with me, baby?” He forces himself up to study your face and make sure you were still comfortable.
You nod, not trusting yourself with words at the moment but of course that wasn’t good enough for Riki. “I need to hear you baby, please.” With his eyes staring deeply into yours there’s no way you could refuse, “Yes, Riki please fuck me.”
“That’s it.” The smirk on his face could easily be your undoing if it weren’t for the way he swiftly pulls out and then slams back in so hard you briefly see white. Your walls clamp down harder and harder with each harsh thrust of his hips. It felt so good you couldn’t hold back the moans and cries of his name.
“This pussy was made for me, fuck- feels so good. Squeeze me just like that- shit.” His breath is hot against your collarbone, his lips wrap around the skin there and suck just to keep himself quiet. You could feel yourself getting wetter if that was even possible at this point. Riki pushes up to meet your lips with his own, swallowing your moans as they come. His tongue swiftly slides against your own all whilst his thrusts get impossibly faster. He pulls away from you only to force two fingers into your mouth, your lips instinctively wrapping around them.
“Suck on my fingers just like you sucked my cock, angel. Fuck I’m already close.” He groans as you do as you’re told, sucking and licking on his fingers. His other hand comes down to rub circles around your clit and your body practically jolts at the stimulation. “Shit, y/n you’re squeezing me so tight, I need to feel you cum, fuck come on my cock baby please.”
The blonde was practically begging but he didn’t need to, you could feel your high approaching faster than you’d like it to. Riki quickly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, grabbing your jaw instead to force your attention to him. His other hands circles your clit faster just to feel the walls of your cunt clench him impossibly tighter. He knew you were close and he wanted - no he needed to see your face when you come.
“Riki I’m-” “I know, I know angel I can feel it. Fuck you’re milking me right now, fucking come right now.” He groans as his abs tighten, holding back his own orgasm until he feels you come around him.
Luckily he wouldn’t have to wait long, one particular pinch at your clit fucking somersaults you over the edge. Your entire body locks up as your back arches into him. Your cunt squeezes around Riki’s length so tight he’s convinced he stopped breathing. Your lips form a O shape and your eyebrows are furrowed together just as you hit your peak, Riki can’t look away, you look so fucking sexy when you come he’s already planning ways to see it again.
The orgasm that rushes through you triggers Riki’s as he thrusts inside you one final time, forcing himself as deep as he can go before spilling his load into the condom. The groan that erupts from his throat is deep and chilling all at once, you feel your walls flutter around him as the aftershocks of your orgasm mixes with his ongoing one. A few moments pass allowing the two of you a second to breathe before Riki slowly pulls out of you. For a second you allow yourself to lay there, closing your eyes whilst Riki gets up to discard the used condom. Riki turns back towards the bed, pausing to admire how beautiful and sexy you look lying there still naked and basking in the afterglow. Just as he begins to lose himself staring at you, he stutters as you lift yourself up, stretching your arms over your head as you look around for your discarded clothes.
“Hey, you don’t have to run out of here, you know? If you wanna shower or use the bathroom. I can give you a change of clothes too?” Riki has no idea why he’s not so subtly asking you to stay. He’s never asked anyone to stay longer that what was necessary so why the fuck is that suddenly changing now?
A fond smile paints itself on your lips at his offer but you were already sliding on your panties. To his credit, Riki is quick to catch the memo, turning to get dressed as well. “Thank you for the offer but I really should get back to Sunoo and Haewon, it’s getting late and I know they won’t leave without making sure I get home safe. I will take you up on using your bathroom though.”
The blonde nods instantly, opening the door and turning on the light for you watching as you finish getting dressed before walking over to him. “Yeah, all good. I’ll wait for you out here.” Your eyes study his face, the quiet uninterested guy from earlier is nowhere to be found right now, he looks almost nervous. It’s kind of endearing. You smile at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind you.
After a couple minutes you leave the bathroom, fixing up your hair, finding Riki sitting at the edge of his bed. “Do I look okay?” His eyes lift up to travel down the length of your body, “You look sexy…and like you just had sex so I guess that tracks.” His smirk is back, any trace of nerves from before completely gone.
A short laugh escapes your lips, “Yeah well that can’t be helped. It’s ok I’m gonna head home anyway. You sure know how to tire a girl out, Riki.” He laughs at that, standing up to walk towards you, “I do aim to please.” There’s a pause once he reaches you, both of you staring into each other's eyes.
“So, will I see you at one of our parties again, or was this a one time thing?” For a moment you’re unsure if he’s actually asking about your attendance but you ignore that. Riki supposedly never hooks up with the same person twice, you both got what you wanted there was no need to make it messy, right?
“I haven’t made up my mind yet,” You pause, smiling up at him innocently, “It was really nice meeting you, Riki.” The blonde scoffs lightly, shaking his head in disbelief with his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. “The feeling is mutual, angel. Get home safe.”
It’s been a week since the party. One week since you went to that party, since you met and, shortly thereafter, fucked Riki Nishimura. After that night, the blonde went from being someone you’ve never seen before to someone you constantly bumped into on campus.
On Tuesday, he was behind you in line at the coffee shop. You didn’t notice him until after you ordered when he tapped you on the shoulder and asked for your order because he supposedly wanted to try something new. On Wednesday after your lectures you went to the library to catch up on some work, Riki was on his way out as you were walking in and of course decided to stop to talk to you for a couple minutes.
And finally today, Thursday, you’re sitting on a picnic table in the courtyard with Sunoo and Haewon. Sunoo had bought lunch for the three of you today and was in the middle of telling you about some drama going on at his job when a shadow clouded over you. Your head whips upwards, finding Riki standing there with a playful smirk on his face.
“Thought that was you, angel. What are you guys up to?” He asked the group but his eyes are on you, not even bothering to hide it.
“Sunoo was just telling us how he thinks his supervisor is hooking up with the shop owner.” Haewon answered swiftly, biting down the grin that threatens to surface. Sunoo is stunned into silence once Riki enters their space and so obviously checks you out.
“Sounds messy. Hey, the guys are inviting some friends over tomorrow night. It’s not a party or anything, just watching the game. You guys should come.” His eyes briefly meet Sunoo and Haewon as if to make it clear the invite was extended to both of them despite his attention being solely on you. You were too stunned to answer, too busy looking up at him in complete shock to even breathe properly let alone form coherent words.
“We’d love to!” Sunoo responds cheerfully, slapping Haewon's arm in excitement that is missed by both you and Riki.
“Cool. I’ll see ya’ll tomorrow night.” He nods at your friends before tossing a wink your way. The three of you watch in silence as he walks away as though nothing happened.
“Okay, what the fuck was that?” Sunoo is the first to break the silence.
“I’ve never seen him like that, what the fuck?” Haewon adds in disbelief, “Oh my god, y/n you have a magic pussy that’s the only explanation.” Your face morphs into one of disgust just as Sunoo bursts into laughter so loud a group of girls at a neighboring table throw side eyes your way.
“Did he call you angel? What was that?” Sunoo continued, still laughing so hard his eyes were closed and he was clutching his stomach. “Oh my god, did he call you that when he was fucking you?” Haewon adds fuel to the fire, Sunoo’s laughter just gets louder as your face turns red.
“Oh god, did he call you angel because your magic pussy made him see heaven?” Your two friends are clearly having a wonderful time teasing your encounter with Riki but you couldn’t hide the flush on your cheeks at the memory of that night. Truthfully you’ve been trying not to think about it, you had told Sunoo and Haewon everything on the drive back to yours from the party and since then you hadn’t really brought it up. Not because it wasn’t good, quite the opposite actually. Sleeping with Riki was the best sex of your life, you have never orgasmed that hard before, never felt so wanted and desired all in one night. Just thinking about it made you embarrassingly wet in your panties though you refuse to admit that even to yourself.
It doesn’t help that he keeps trying to talk to you any chance he gets, you don’t get it. Usually guys are the ones to ghost the girl after the hookup, usually it’s them doing everything in their power to avoid the girl afterwards but Riki is doing everything but that. You’re not sure what he wants and that worries you, you were looking for one night of relief but now you’re left with unwanted questions about his intentions with you.
The laughter finally dies down once they realize your silence. “Hey, we don’t have to go if you’re uncomfortable.” Haewon turns serious now, placing her hand over your own. “Yeah, I’m sorry for laughing. We don’t have to go at all actually, we never have to bring it up again.” Sunoo nods in agreement, looking between you and Haewon.
“No, no, it’s okay really. Honestly I want to go, I need to talk to him honestly, figure out what he wants.” You nod decidedly. “Alright, but same thing applies, just say the word and we leave right in the moment, no questions asked.” Your friends assure you with gentle smiles on their faces.
You were starting to rethink your decision now standing in front of the guys house again for the first time since that night. The change was drastic, the front lawn littered with people and empty red solo cups that night was now clean and presentable, the loud booming of music that you could hear from down the street was replaced by silence.
The door swings open before you can knock, Jake standing on the other side with a smile on his face, “You guys made it! Incredibly late by the way, the game started forever ago, come in.” He guides the three of you into the living area where the rest of the guys and some other familiar faces reside. Your eyes scout the room for Riki but he’s not here.”
“Drinks and pizza in the kitchen, help yourselves.” Jay smiles after greeting y'all although his attention was solely on the tv screen. Sunghoon waves from the couch, also incredibly locked into the game.
Haewon finds a spot on the couch waving at you and Sunoo who were already making your way into the kitchen as directed. Sunoo is already raving about pizza and how badly he’s craving some when you find Riki leaning against the counter, cup in hand and attention fully on a shorter guy with dark hair.
“Oh, Riki, hey.” Sunoo greets first, smiling knowingly. The blonde turns to face you now, a wicked grin taking over his face, “There you are, I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show.” He says aloud though it’s clearly directed more at you than Sunoo.
“Are you kidding, sports game and beer? We wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Your voice is dripping in sarcasm. Riki smirks, setting his cup down, already moving to serve you and Sunoo a plate of food.
“Y/n? Hey, I didn’t expect to see you here.” The other guy standing in the kitchen, who you admittedly forgot was even there for a moment, turned to look at you with a smile. You recognized him now as Jungwon, he’s a boy in your literature class. You worked with him on a project once and have been friendly ever since.
“Jungwon, it’s nice to see you. I didn’t know you knew the guys?” Jungwon instinctively stepped closer to you, not in a flirtatious way but simply as a sign of interest in your conversation. Though none of that was clear to Riki who paused as he was handing a plate to Sunoo. The plate was held frozen in his hand as he arched a brow at the two of you. You, too focused in your conversation about the latest course material, didn’t even notice the way Riki visibly malfunctioned. Sunoo stifles his giggle but Riki catches it, grunting silently before handing the plate off.
Riki is quick to shove a plate into Jungwon's hands, “Hey, man, can you bring this to Haewon? She must be hungry.” Jungwon gives him a weird look before nodding, “We’ll continue this later, then.” The boy smiles at you, him and Sunoo taking their leave.
“That was passive aggressive.” You notice, turning to now face the taller boy. Riki only shrugged, grabbing another plate for you. “Was it?” He sets the plate softly on the counter in front of you, nudging it as if urging you to eat.
The silence lingers between you for a moment, Riki’s eyes dart from you to the entryway of the kitchen. For a second he lingers, debating his next move and before you know it he steps closer to you, his chest now fully touching your side.
“You look good.” His words are sure, no teasing remark following.
“Thank you, so do you.” He smiles at that, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. “Aren’t you like missing the most important game of the season right now?”
“I could not possibly care any less about the game. All I’m thinking about right now is getting you upstairs again.” His tone is so confident, not even the slightest bit ashamed.
Your eyes widened in shock, you could’ve guessed Riki wanted to hook up again but you were not expecting him to be so upfront about it. “Fuck, Riki, you can’t just say things like that.” A light blush paints itself across your cheeks.
“Why not?”
You ignore his question, choosing to press over matter instead, “I thought you never slept with the same person twice?”
“Been asking around about me, angel?” You wish you could wipe the smirk off his face. “Is that what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck you so good one time and never speak to you again?” He presses and you would almost feel guilty if it wasn’t for the teasing glint in his eyes.
“It’s honestly what I expected. I just wanted one night, I don’t want strings or complications. And we have mutual friends so it would be weird to repeat it.” You turn away from his eyes, wondering if your words were convincing him or yourself.
Riki leans down until his breath is right by your ear, “One night was enough for you, baby?” The cockiness practically drips from his words. You shiver under his intense stare, not being able to hide the effect his words have on you.
“We can’t have sex again, Riki.” You don’t believe your own words and evidently neither does Riki.
“Oh but we have unfinished business, I didn’t get to taste that pretty pussy last time. You’ll let me, won’t you?”
“Fuckk Ki, right there!” You sob into the silence of your bedroom, finger gripping and pulling at his blonde hair. He groans into your wet cunt, licking and swallowing your arousal. He was going down on you like a man starved, already making you come once on his fingers before deciding to satisfy you with his tongue. His slick muscle thrusted inside of you before trailing up to circle and suck at your clit. It was maddening, borderline insanity, the way this man ate your pussy like his life depended on it, like he had something to prove.
Another loud moan pushes up your throat, your back arching as your hips thrust upwards into his face. He only groans louder, gripping your thighs and pulling you impossibly closer.
“Taste so good, angel, knew you would. Fuck I could stay here for hours.” And he meant it to, Riki was completely drunk off your taste. It took everything in him not to grind his hard and leaking cock into the mattress.
You couldn’t even recall how you got here, some excuse about a headache and Riki stating he would take you home. Not as subtle as you’d hope but it didn’t matter, what matters is the way Riki’s tongue was sliding up and down your soaked folds, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Ki…fuck, please please.” One of his hands comes up to lace his fingers with your own, “Go on, angel, come all over my fucking face I need to taste it.” His words are your undoing, with one final breath your walls clench around nothing, creaming onto his awaiting mouth. You come with a moan of his name on your lips, an appreciative groan coming from Riki in response.
Riki doesn’t give you a moment to level yourself, lifting himself up to quickly flip you onto your stomach. His hands on your hips arched your back for you, lifting your ass and bending you in a way that’s entirely provocative. “You did so good for me, angel. Need you to come just like that on my cock now. Can you do that for me, hm? Can you come for a third time for me?” He teases while he presses his chest into your back, biting softly at your ear.
You nod instantly, “Mhm, Ki, please.” He chuckles softly, “Sound so pretty when you ask nicely, baby.” Riki doesn’t skip a beat, pulling his pants and underwear completely off not before grabbing the condom he slid into his pocket before leaving his place. He slides it over himself before guiding his tip down the length of your slicked folds. Another whimper falls from your lips but Riki is quick to shush you, “I’ll give you what you want, angel, hm? You’re gonna take it so well for me.” With that he pushes in all the way to the hilt, a shared moan is all you can hear in the quiet room.
“Fuck! So deep, Riki.” You hide your face in the pillow, moaning into the fabric so loudly you could only hope it was somewhat muffled. Riki retreats before snapping his hips back, practically impaling you on his dick. His hands grip your ass so roughly he can already see your skin flush underneath his touch.
His thrusts are relentless, fucking into you so hard and deep if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was angry with you. Pushing himself as deep as he can go inside you. Riki was on a mission to have your walls mold around the shape of his dick, he knew you were made just for him but he needed you to realize it too.
“Take it, baby, take all of me, fuck.” He grunts, biting down on his lips as he watches himself slide in and out of you. The way your walls clench around him is enough to alert him of his quickly approaching orgasm.
His hand snakes around around body, finding your aching and swollen clit instantly. “Come with me, shit. It’s never felt this good, I need it.” You were sure he didn’t mean to say that last part but it practically goes in one ear and out the other. The sensation of him thrusting into you and rubbing your clit all while groaning and grunting to show his own pleasure is enough to fall right off that edge with him. Your orgasm crashes over you, your walls squeezing Riki is enough to kick his own. You ride out your highs together, Riki still fucking you through it until the overstimulation kicked in.
His soft hands caress your hips and lower back as he pulls out, you groan at the loss, suddenly feeling all too empty. Riki collapses beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling your back into his chest.
Any rational thought to get up and avoid falling asleep is quickly forgotten with the way Riki hums contently behind you, clearly already falling asleep. Your own eyes close from exhaustion and before you can think better of it, you find yourself falling asleep with Riki Nishimura in your bed and his arounds wrapped around your waist.
Looking back at it now, it probably wasn’t the best idea to let Riki spend the night as it only led to a delicious round of morning sex, followed by insatiable shower sex and then a crisp makeout session in the kitchen over coffee. All seemingly good, great, amazing things but ultimately they’ve caused you to develop such a desire for the blonde that you cannot go two days without sleeping with him.
It’s been three weeks since that night and at this rate you’re seeing Riki more than your other friends, classmates, and professors combined. He was constantly coming over under the guise of helping you study, or cook, or clean- but it all ended the same. It was working out for you pretty well, you weren’t dating, not even close to it but the casual intimacy with the same person was nice.
At this point you were positive your friends knew, they weren’t stupid. They had all seen you leave together that night and the boys noticed when Riki didn’t come back home. Sunoo and Haewon have found pieces of discarded clothing or jewelry he’s left at your place, a forgotten sock or chrome hearts rings tossed on your counter. Still, no one has asked any questions, until now.
“So you guys are like fuck buddies?” Haewon asks into the silence of your living room. You had invited her and Sunoo for a study night, it was pretty uneventful until Riki sent you five consecutive messages practically begging to come over and only getting worse when you told him he couldn't.
Sunoo chokes on his water, shaking his head, “Fuck, Haewon, you can’t just ask that. I thought we were gonna pretend not to notice until she brought it up?” Haewon shrugs before turning her attention back to you.
“Um, yeah I guess that’s the best way to put it.” Your friends nod. “But he stays over sometimes?” Sunoo questions. You nod, “Yeah, sometimes it’s too late for him to go home so he stays here. If he has class or practice early in the morning he’s usually gone before I wake up, if not we’ll sometimes make breakfast or coffee and chill and then he leaves.”
Sunoo and Haewon eye each other before looking at you as though you had suddenly grown a second head. “He stays the night,” Haewon starts, “And you have breakfast together?” Sunoo finishes for her, both sharing a look of absolute shock.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. Sure it's a strain on my groceries but he makes up for it by bringing takeout sometimes so it's fair.” The look of bewilderment on their faces doesn’t falter in the slightest despite the calmness in your voice.
“He buys takeout?” Haewon sits up completely, hands on the table as if she was bracing herself.
“Are you gonna end up dating him?”
You immediately shake your head. It’s not the idea of dating Riki that’s pushing you away, if things were different you could totally see yourself with a guy like him. But there’s just too much working against you right now. You graduate soon and you’ll move away, he’s younger so he’ll be here for another year and as you know very well thanks to personal experience, long distance relationships never work.
That and he has never shown any hints that he wants anything more than what you two already have so why push your luck?
“But you guys are exclusive, right?”
The question makes you pause. Exclusive is a big word, it’s like dating before dating, it can mean a lot to one person and nothing to the other. It’s also a word that has never been brought up during your time with Riki which is why you have to give Haewon an answer she won’t like.
“No, I don’t think so at least,” You shrug, “We’ve never had that conversation so I guess he could also be hooking up with other girls right now. I mean I haven’t been with anyone else but I can’t stop him if he wants to.”
“That doesn’t bother you? Not knowing if he is hooking up with other girls?” You let the question sink in for a moment, as if you hadn’t been asking yourself that same question for the last week and a half. You were no longer sure what the right answer should be so you just shrug in response.
“y/n, if it bothers you-” Sunoo starts but you’re quick to interrupt, “Whether it bothers me or not is irrelevant, Riki and I have an unspoken understanding. We’re just hooking up, he doesn’t owe me any loyalty and vice versa.” You can tell by the looks in their eyes, your friends are anything but convinced. But nevertheless they drop the subject, deciding to focus back on their schoolwork instead.
The silence was unsettling, the air tense, you knew the unspoken questions still lingered behind their teeth and it was slowly eating away at you.
“I’m going on a coffee run, I’ll be back.” Before they could ask any questions or offer to go with you, you were out the door, slipping into your sneakers and throwing a jacket over your shoulders as you went.
The short walk to the cafe did nothing to clear your thoughts. What you and Riki had was supposed to be easy, thoughtless, fun. But as time passed it was getting harder and harder to convince yourself that was all still true. It may have started out that way, but now it was all too familiar.
The way his touch flamed your skin, the way your body so easily molded against his own while you slept. Or how his fingers felt brushing through your hair as he soothed in your shampoo in the shower. The way his smile almost turned boxy around you, like he was genuinely happy and unafraid to look like it. It was a smile you realized he only showed around you, you hadn’t seen that boxy smile anywhere else and it made your heart warm to have such an intimate thing all to yourself.
Maybe it was silly to consider a smile something that belonged to you, but truly that’s what it felt like, something private, shared only amongst you two. At least that’s what you believed.
Standing just outside the cafe you spot him. He’s inside, sitting across a girl you can’t fully see as her back is facing you. Her shoulders shake with laughter and painted right on his face is that same boxy smile you had foolishly believed was reserved just for you.
You didn’t allow the moment or the feeling to linger, twisting on your heels just as quickly as you arrived. The walk back to your apartment seemed quicker than before, coffee long forgotten.
Your friends didn’t question why you showed up without the coffee you so loudly claimed to go get, they didn’t ask questions when you shut down for the rest of the night or when you ended your study session early, claiming to have a headache. You loved your friends, as curious as they were, they knew when to leave you alone and bless them for that. Being alone was all you needed right now.
After a long shower you sit on your bed, phone resting by your thigh with no new notifications since earlier this afternoon. In the silence your thoughts begin to spiral without permission, it can’t be helped.
He came to you first, texting you, begging to see you. But you declined because you were busy with Sunoo and Haewon and then he turned and found someone else to spend his evening with? Was it that easy for him? Was it ever about you as a person or just how you made him feel? That wasn’t a fair question, not really, not when you both were benefitting from how the other makes them feel. Still it hurt to think about how easily he could find someone else that could make him feel just as good if not better. Hopefully not better.
The darker parts of your brain start to wonder if he would prioritize you over the others. If you texted him to come over, would he drop whoever he was with to do so? Or would he lie and say he was busy with the guys?
You wish you could say you’d remain curious but the text was sent before you could think better of it. You stare at the “Come over?” text on the screen, heart thumping out of your chest once it’s marked as ‘read’ not even a minute later. The bubbles pop up on his side of the screen for a moment before they stop and you literally feel your heart drop to your ass, body tensing as if preparing for the rejection.
“Omw.” He texts back. A breath pushes through your teeth, your hands gripping the phone so tight it could snap in two. As ashamed as you were to admit it, you can’t help the wave of relief that washes over you. It was a sick thought, maybe you were wrong to find a bit of pride in this? He prioritized you. He chose you. God, it didn’t escape you how pathetic that sounded even in the privacy of your own thoughts.
You knew realistically this means nothing. Riki probably just wanted to get his dick wet and he’d take whoever gave him the green light, surely this says more about you than it does about him but you were too deep in your own head to let that sink in.
Rationally, you thought up a plan of conversation. You were practicing how to bring up the exclusive question to him tonight, still deciding if you even wanted to mention it at all, when he knocked on your door.
Then he was in front of you. Then he was pushing you towards your bedroom with his lips on yours. Clothes were discarded until you could only feel his skin on yours. Any rational thought of conversation was long gone before you even fell into bed with him.
“Missed you, angel. Fuck, you’re so warm.” His kisses light a fire on your skin, marking parts of you you never thought twice of. Within moments his hand was between your legs, fingers spreading your arousal before pushing inside you. Your back arches into him as moans stumbled from your lips without care.
“So beautiful for me like this, I’ll never get tired of seeing you fall apart for me.” He groaned, eyes trailing from your face down to your core. His lips found yours again, bruising your lips with the force of his kiss but you’d never think to complain. You jolted as his thumb circled your clit, already pulling an orgasm out of you. Before you could reach that peak, you gathered your strength to push him away, flipping over to straddle him.
Now with your thighs on either side of him you grinded your went cunt onto his clothed erection. “Fuck, baby, don’t tease. C’mere.” His hands reached for your hips but you leaned back, unbuttoning his pants and lowering them and his briefs before hovering over his bare cock. Riki could feel you dripping on him and the grunt that escaped him was devastating.
“Sit on it, baby. Ride me, take what you need.” Riki’s eyes never left yours as you sit up on your knees to line him up with your entrance. His hands caress your hips, biting down on his lip the second you start to sink down on him. Neither one of you cared enough to notice the lack of a condom, it felt too good to stop now. Riki whispers soft praises as you lower yourself onto his achingly hard dick.
“S’too big, Ki. Shit.” Another moan rips from your throat, hands finding purchase on his chest for balance. “You can take it, baby, you’ve taken it before. Come on, fuck.” He feels your walls clench around him, his abs tightening in response. “That’s it, fuck y/n.”
Once you finally sink all the way down you feel Riki grip your hips, with his encouragement you begin to move your hips, lifting up before sliding back down the entirety of his length. For the first time you watch his eyes drop from your own to admire your slick cunt.
You ride him fast and hard, grinding on him until you feel him hit that deep part inside you that has you clenching his dick so hard it hurts. “Shit, angel, I know you’re close, hold on for me, yeah?” His thumb finds your clit as his left hand presses into the mattress so he can lift himself up enough to drag your nipple into his mouth. Your hands wrap around him, one holding the back of his head and pulling at his hair the closer you get to your orgasm.
“Riki mmph” His lips release your breast only to pant against your own mouth, “I’m right there, angel. Come with me, yeah?” You nod, unable to speak with the way your cunt begins to spasm around his dick. With the way your walls flutter around him Riki can’t hold off his own orgasm, spilling inside you with a final grunt.
He sighs against your lips, kissing you softly with his arms still wrapped around you. You hum as he caresses your body whilst still being inside you.
“Fuck, baby, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have- I’ll buy you a plan b first thing tomorrow, I swear.” You shake your head, “It’s ok I think I have one. For emergencies you know, as long as it’s not expired we should be good.” You had bought one last week, although you and Riki had always used protection up until this point you wanted to have one just in case you needed one, clearly it came in handy.
Riki gently lifts you off of him, laying you down on your side of the bed and covering you with your blanket. “Where is it? I’ll get it for you along with some water.” He says it so gently and lovingly it’s intoxicating, you always want this side of Riki. You hate that you may not be the only one to see this side of him, you hate that you’re thinking of that right now even more.
“Should be in the bathroom, third drawer next to my pads.” He nods, pressing another kiss to your lips before pushing himself out of bed, slipping on his boxers then disappearing into your bathroom.
You push yourself up towards the pile of clothing by your bedroom door, picking up his black shirt and slipping it over your body. He comes back out then, handing you the box of the plan b, “Get back in bed, I'll bring you water and then I’m going down on you.” He says it so matter of factly you can’t help but giggle and nod.
Once Riki leaves your room you lean down to pick up his clothes, wanting to just fold them and place them on your desk rather than the floor. You didn’t mean for his phone to slip out of his pocket, lighting up to show three consecutive messages from a girl's name you didn’t recognize.
“Just got home, thanks for coffee.”
“Next time, it’s on me.”
“Let’s not wait too long though, I don’t say it enough but I missed you.”
Your breath gets caught in your throat suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach the size of a baseball. Maybe it shouldn’t bother you as much as it did, you already saw them together, these text messages are only showing you what you already know and yet that doesn’t stop your chest from tightening or your pulse from spiking.
“Hey, your ice machine is way too slow, I could take a look at it if you want. I think something might be stu- what’s wrong?” Riki’s voice falters upon seeing your frozen stare, hand clutched around his phone.
“Baby?” His tone is cautious.
“Are we exclusive?” You don’t stop yourself from asking, despite being able to name at least a dozen reasons why that wasn’t a good idea just off the top of your head.
“What?” Riki takes a step closer, setting the water down on your desk.
“I mean, I know it’s weird just bringing it up like this and I swear I had this planned better in my head but I just need an answer, are we exclusive?” You were spiraling. You knew it, Riki knew it. It was hard to back down now.
“We never really talked about it, I mean we never explicitly used the word ‘exclusive’ did we?” You wished you could be mad at him, but he was right. The two of you failed to ever communicate what this arrangement was, surely that was no one's fault but your own, you can’t be mad at him now for seeing someone else.
“Right, right,” you shake your head still gripping onto his phone like a lifeline, “You’re right, but I would have at least hoped you would’ve respected me enough to tell me you were fucking someone else before coming inside me.”
“Whoa, what are you talking about? I haven’t hooked up with anyone else since we started seeing each other. Whatever you think you saw on my phone has a perfectly normal explanation. Fuck, angel, I spend all my free time with you and when I’m not I’m thinking up reasons to come over.”
“Okay, well maybe you haven’t hooked up with her yet but I saw you with her, Riki and now she’s texting you. Look, I know I have no right to be mad, I’m not your girlfriend and we’re not exclusive I just,” You pause for a moment and Riki takes the time to think about who you could’ve possibly seen with him.
“I’m sorry, maybe you should just go. I’m out of it tonight, I guess. Don’t take me seriously right now, I have no right to be jealous, if there’s someone else you’re interested in, that’s fine. But I’m not interested in sleeping with you if you’re sleeping with other people, I haven’t been with anyone else and I wouldn’t without telling you first.”
He sighs, “Baby, y/n, who did you see me with? I’m not interested in anyone else, please tell me what you saw, baby.” He took another step toward you, his eyes growing soft.
You don’t say anything, choosing to instead hand him his phone where the messages still sit on the illuminated lockscreen. Without meaning to, you realized you’re holding your breath, waiting for Riki to drop a bomb on you. What you don’t expect is for him to laugh out loud, he shakes his head and closes his eyes.
“This is what you’re talking about? You saw us at the coffee shop earlier today, I’m assuming,” he waits for you to nod, “Baby, that’s my sister. She was in town for the afternoon, didn’t tell me anything until like twenty minutes before we met up. I haven’t seen her since the semester started.”
You feel stupid. You were sure you’ve never felt more stupid in your entire life.
“Oh.” Embarrassment washes over you, not knowing what else to say.
“Oh? That’s all you have to say after that? Angel, how long have you been wanting to ask me to be exclusive?” His tone is soft, not mocking.
“A while, I guess.” He smiles at that, “Well, thank you for asking now but if we’re being honest, I assumed we were exclusive from the moment you let me spend the night.”
Your eyes widen at his confession and he only sighs, “I’ve never done this before so I guess that’s my fault. I should’ve just brought it up. Before you, I never really saw the same girl twice, but with you I just…I can’t get enough of you so from the moment we started hooking up casually I just assumed we were exclusive. I didn’t feel the need to look at anyone else or pursue anyone else.” His eyes lift to find yours, relishing in the surprise and softness painted across them.
You can only nod softly in response, still not registering how badly you’ve handled this. You’ve pictured this conversation going very differently in your head.
“Have you?” You raise an eyebrow in question, “I mean have you wanted to get with anyone else?” He asks and you can almost hear a hint of insecurity laced in his words.
You shake your head almost immediately, causing Riki to chuckle. “No, it’s just been you.” He nods, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding for the longest time.
“I’m gonna be honest here since we’re already getting pretty vulnerable for the night,” he starts, “I know we’ve never really talked about what this is or what we’re doing but…I need you to know that this isn’t just sex for me. It started like that, sure, but now it’s more. I don’t know what this is, I’ve never really had time for relationships or feelings, not seriously anyway. I had a girlfriend in high school but once I started university, I was just so focused on classes and practice I never really wanted more.”
He pauses then and you hold your breath, this was the conversation you were hoping to avoid because you’re not sure if the two of you were on the same page. You weren’t oblivious to your feelings for Riki, you knew exactly how you felt about him despite never saying it out loud. But that doesn’t matter, your feelings don’t matter when you know by this time next year the two of you could easily be in different parts of the country.
“What I’m trying to say is I feel more for you than I expected to, I like spending time with you and talking to you and yeah the sex is great, amazing really, but that’s not the only reason I seek your company.”
The beating of your heart against your ribcage grows so loud you’re sure he could hear it by now, it would be impossible not to with the way it rattled against your chest as if your heart was trying to leap out. This was the truth you were unprepared to face, it was already a big step admitting you wanted exclusivity with Riki but determining the root of that desire, the real reason you got jealous over him being with someone else, was something you were not ready to face. It had been so long since you last trusted someone with those feelings, and they didn’t take very good care of them so to speak.
Rationally, you know, Riki is nothing like your ex but the defensive parts of you would do anything to avoid that pain again. It doesn’t help that the odds are against you. But you’re also not blind to what you feel for him, you’d be lying straight through your teeth if you said this arrangement with Riki was just sex. Despite this, you know you can’t ignore what is true, and that is the fact that you will be graduating in a few months and you are in no place to get emotionally involved in a relationship destined to fail with distance apart from one another. Which is why you force yourself to say what needs to be said,
“Riki…I can’t offer you more than this. I’m sorry” Your voice is weary, a false shield of confidence barely masking the uncertainty that lingers there. Riki caught it before you could look away, he nods, “You can’t or you won’t?”
The strings of your heart are being pulled in all sorts of directions. You want to come up with something better to say, something smart and assured but all you can think is, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.
This wasn’t how things are supposed to be between you and him. What you would give to go back twenty minutes, to stay in bed when he asked you to. To fall asleep in his arms like you did so many nights before.
“Riki, you know we can’t. It won’t work, there’s too much-”
“So you’re given up before ever really giving us a chance?” He interrupts, not being able to stop himself from doing so. Riki was never the kind of guy to put his heart on the line for someone else, he had girlfriends here and there but his heart was always in his future, in his dancing, he always put that first. For the first time in his life he wants to put someone else before all of that, and you’re rejecting him. The pain is greater than he cared to admit. Surely he was aware of the differences between you, he knew your future probably looked different that his own but that wasn’t enough of a reason for him to give up on the possibility of the two of you being something more than what you are now.
“Riki, think logically here, please. I’m graduating in a couple months, you still have another year of school. I’ll probably move away and who knows how far we’ll be from one another? It’s easy to say it’ll work when you can come over whenever you’d like, but once the distance is between us it’s,” you pause, feeling your throat tighten in your chest, “It’s not the same, okay? I refuse to let either one of us go through that.”
He doesn’t say anything, his eyes study you wanting to ask all the questions his lips were too scared to utter.
“Riki, if you can’t continue this as strictly casual then maybe we should just end it here.” The words slip past your lips before you can hold them back. There they were, out in the air without giving you the chance to weigh the gravity of them first. You watch in slight horror as Riki drops his gaze to the floor. He nods softly and you would give anything to throw your arms around him, to kiss him and tell him everything will work out fine. But for some reason you’re glued to your spot, unable to move, talk, let alone breathe.
“Ok, if that’s what you want.” His voice is soft and quiet as if speaking any louder would risk a crack into how he truly felt. You watch in silence as he gets dressed. He casts one glance towards his shirt on your body before sighing and throwing on his hoodie instead. Your hands move slightly to lift the fabric over you but Riki holds his hand out, stopping you, “Keep it, I don’t want it right now. I’ll see you around, y/n.”
He was gone before you could even register he had finished getting dressed. All you could do was stand there in his shirt and replay how badly you fucked up.
The weeks flew by after that night, you drowned yourself in your school work and applications, your closest friends knew better than to bring it up but they were worried for you. You had somehow gone back to how you used to be before Riki but only ten times worse. You never went out at all anymore, studying or applying for post grad positions in other cities, as far away from here as you could go.
You missed him. You knew it and Sunoo and Haewon knew it too, hell even Riki knew it though you’d certainly never hear it from him. You still occasionally slept in his shirt, knowing you should’ve washed it and given it to Sunoo to return it to him but you couldn’t bring yourself to give it back. It was the only thing you had left of him and the only thing you could hold onto anymore.
The words of the textbook in front of you were starting to blur together until you couldn’t make out the lines anymore. Your distraction came in the form of Jay, “Hey, y/n, it’s been a while.” The smile on his face is warm and inviting, you almost forget how awkward this could be. Your friends knew what was going on between you and Riki and surely now they know whatever it was didn’t end well.
“Jay, hi. Yeah, I'm sorry I’ve been busy.”
“It’s all good, this is an important last few weeks for all of us. I get it. Hey but you’re coming to our barbeque this sunday, I hope? Jake wants to take advantage of the grill as much as he can before we move out” He laughs then.
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Jay shakes his head and waves his hand dismissively, “Riki won’t be there. I don’t know all that went down with you but he’s practically been living in the dance room, he only comes home to sleep and he has a meeting with a scout on Sunday so he won’t be there. Sunoo and Haewon are coming, you should too.”
“Wait what?” That definitely caught you off guard, you knew what Riki felt for you was real but surely after several weeks apart you would’ve expected him to go back to normal, or at least whatever version of himself there was before you.
“Yeah, we haven’t seen much of him honestly. He does his own thing now and we just let him be, his scholarship has him running around meeting deadlines like crazy, they have him interviewing with scouts from programs across the country. It’s a great opportunity for him but if they take him he may have to transfer again. Poor kid has been moving around his entire university career.”
You had no idea Riki’s scholarship was so demanding, he had brought it up once or twice about how he transferred here in the first place because of it, but you didn’t realize they had him jumping from program to program on a yearly basis.
“That sounds awful, I had no idea. I hope he’s doing okay, that sounds very stressful.” Jay nods in response, “Yeah, it’s a lot on him but he’s used to it. He’s hoping to stay here but his scouts will throw him at whatever school offers the best program so it’s very likely he’ll be moving out at the end of the semester along with the rest of us. Either way, you won’t see him on Sunday so does that mean you’ll come?”
Seeing Riki suddenly wasn’t an issue, in fact you wanted to see him, wanted to check up on him and make sure he was doing okay. Jay shrugged it off like it’s no big deal but you know Riki better than that, he’ll give and give until his body wears down and he won’t notice until it’s too late. And despite Jay assuring you he won’t be there, it still is his house so the possibility of him coming home, although being low, couldn’t be zero. Which is why you find yourself nodding and smiling up at Jay, “I’d love to go.”
Sunday rolls around faster than you’d like, you had spent the last hour and a half changing out of your outfit, touching up your hair and makeup all under the low chance of bumping into Riki today. After the news you received this morning you were hoping to be able to talk to him, at least have a proper goodbye. The interview you had earlier this week finally reached out, it was official you were moving right after graduation. A company has offered you a position as soon as you graduated and you couldn’t say no. Today may be your last chance to speak with him before everything changes.
When Sunoo knocks on your door to pick you up you’re left with no choice but to leave with a brown off the shoulder top and low waisted jeans, it was cute but casual. Enough to look good but not give off the idea that you were trying too hard to get his attention.
“I don’t think he’ll be there.” Sunoo speaks into the silence of the car. It was just you and him, Haewon had gone over to the guys place earlier to help with the groceries and setting up.
“I know.” You distract yourself by looking out the window.
“But you want to see him?” He asks.
“Of course I do. Why didn’t you tell me he’s been distant with everyone? I just assumed he went back to normal after everything, I had no idea he was digging himself under his work and practice, he must be exhausted.”
Sunoo softly sighs, turning into their street. “Sound familiar at all?” You only raise an eyebrow in his direction while he parks the car in their driveway. Sunoo shuts off the engine, turning to face you without making any moves to get out of the car.
“You two are a lot more alike than you think. He has been drowning himself with his dance, just like you’ve been drowning yourself with school and interviews. Both of you have been trying to distract yourselves from how you feel about each other. I just don’t get why? It’s obvious you two felt something for each other, anyone could see he was different with you and you were different with him, I’ve never seen you like that with anyone else, and I mean anyone.”
You know he’s referring to your ex boyfriend, you never really thought about it but it was true. Even before he ruined your relationship by cheating on you, the two of you didn’t talk much, the effort to make the long distance work wasn’t being put in by either one of you. There was the weekly facetime call, and text messages here and there but truthfully Sunoo didn’t even know you had a boyfriend when you first met. You never really talked about him or to him but with Riki, you spent so much time talking on the phone or texting about the dumbest things, it was hard to miss.
“I got some news today. I got a job offer from a company in Chicago, they want me to move in June. The company is offering to assist with my relocation, I couldn’t say no.” You pause, picking at your cuticles, “I just want to say bye to him. A proper goodbye, not what we had before. And I want to apologize to him for the way I handled things.”
Sunoo gasps quietly, “You’re really moving?” You nod, “It’s across the country Sunoo, I can’t do long distance again, I won’t”
The blonde next to you nods in understanding, he knew he couldn’t convince you to give it a try, not after what you went through.
“I get it, I’m happy for you though! Heeseung lives up there now too, you know? He just moved in with his girlfriend over there like last month, I could give you his number so you’re not completely alone when you’re over there. His girlfriend is really nice too, I think you guys would get along.”
“That would be great.” You smile at him before the two of you get out of the car and enter the madness that is Jake's attempt at barbecue. The backyard is lively with music and people hovering around the grill whilst Jake swats his spatula around for space. Haewon greets you with a smile and a hug all the while your eyes scan the yard for your familiar blonde boy. He’s nowhere to be found, just like Jay said.
“y/n you made it! Come have a drink with us!” Jay greeted, waving you over to where he and Jungwon stood by the coolers. Jungwon hands you a drink and starts up a casual conversation.
The entire afternoon went by like that, easy conversation over bitter tasting beer and Jake’s secret recipe burgers that he claims he learned from his dad back in Australia. Laughs were shared in the backyard of their house and as the sun started to set you had pretty much given up hope that Riki would show.
You don’t notice Jake and Sunghoon disappear inside the house, you don’t notice the clapping and cheering from inside either until the two boys drag a flustered looking Riki out to the backyard.
“Ladies and gentlemen! We have a very important announcement to make on behalf of our beloved Riki.” Jake yells but you’re too focused on Riki to hear him properly. The blonde hasn't noticed you yet, not with you standing between Jay and Sunoo with Jay practically covering you entirely once he steps forward to see better.
“Our Riki is going to the big leagues, he got offered a full scholarship with the best dancing program in the country!” Sunghoon finishes for him, cheers erupt outside and Riki blushes under the attention. He shakes his head as if it bothered him but the smile on his face told you otherwise.
“That’s right, Riki here will be joining our friend Heeseung in the Windy City.” Jake cheers again, slapping his hands together and whistling for his friend.
Your eyes widen in surprise, feeling the breath get caught in your throat. “He’s moving to Chicago?” You ask aloud without meaning to but thankfully only Sunoo could hear you over the cheers. A smirk plays on his lips as he nudges you with his shoulder, “I think the universe just granted you a second chance, y/n.” He whispers to you before joining the others in their cheers.
That’s when his eyes finally meet yours. The smile on his face falters for a moment, a look of disbelief waving past his features. He never expected to see you here of all places. He never really expected to see you at all if he’s being honest with himself.
“When do you leave?” Jungwon asks aloud. Riki stutters for a moment, having to force himself to look away from you to be able to answer Jungwon's questions. “Uh, late August I think? Program starts in September but they want me to settle into the dorms early to complete all the necessary paperwork.”
“What a coincidence! Our very own y/n is also moving to Chicago, she just got the job offer this morning!” Sunoo announced to everyone making your heart drop down to your stomach. The shock on your face only intensifies as suddenly all eyes are on you, including Rikis.
“Yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to say anything. I just found out.” You shove Sunoo beside you, earning a wince in response. More cheering commences at your announcement as well, Jay congratulating you with a pat on your shoulder and a smile.
“Damn, at this point let’s just all move to Chicago, hear me out guys.” Jake starts, pointing his hands up as if coming up with a master plan. Riki’s eyes never leave yours, his eyebrows furrowing together as the gears in his head start turning. You watch as his lips mouth the words, “Can we talk?” Thankfully no one else notices his words or how you nod softly, placing your drink down before walking towards the doors leading inside the house. Riki holds the door open for you, not caring that everyone definitely watched the two of you leave together, again.
“You’re really moving to Chicago?” Both of you ask at once, sharing a quiet laugh in the aftermath.
“Come on, let’s talk upstairs.” He guides you to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
“Congratulations on the program, Jay told me you’ve been working your ass off these last few weeks. This is an amazing opportunity for you.” You say as you take a seat on the edge of his bed, watching him lean against his desk similar to that first night all those months ago.
“Been asking Jay about me, have you?” He smirks in a teasing manner before nodding, “Thank you, it was a lot but this is the best program and school there is, I’d be crazy to let that opportunity go.” He smiles, “Congrats on the job offer, I didn’t know you were looking for positions in Chicago.”
You shrug, “I wasn’t, not really. I was applying for anything that would take me. This company was the best offer I’ve received and I couldn’t give it up. I leave right after graduation in June.”
He takes a step towards you, “So we’ll be in the same city again come fall.” The corners of his lips lift up in amusement.
“I guess so.” You nod along, suddenly feeling breathless.
“That wouldn’t change anything between us, would it?” He teases, lifting an eyebrow up at you in question.
You shake your head at him, you know what he’s playing at and you can’t help but play along. “It shouldn’t, what I said before remains true.” He nods and clicks his tongue against his teeth, “What you said before was that the distance would ruin us, that you couldn’t let either one of us go through that, but there wouldn’t be any distance if we’re in the same city again. Unless there was another reason you were against it?”
He takes another step towards you, waiting for you to answer only to be met with silence. You lift your chin to continue your eye contact with him. Riki steps closer until he’s right in front of you before dropping softly to his knees on the carpet, head tilting now to be the one to look up at you. His hands rest softly on the mattress on either side of your thighs, close but not yet touching your skin.
“Tell me you didn’t feel what I felt, tell me it meant nothing to you and I’ll walk away, I’ll leave you alone just as I have these torturing last few weeks.” You swallow, heart pounding out of your chest. You can feel the heat radiating off your body the closer he gets to you. While waiting for an answer, Riki softly lifts his hands to caress your thighs, softly pulling them apart to press a kiss to the inside of your clothed thigh. You feel your stomach tighten and your breath catches at the sight. Before you can think better of it, you shake your head, right hand coming up to rake through his blonde hair very softly. Your thumb caresses the side of his face, admiring how beautiful he looks at this moment.
“I can’t say that. I can’t lie to you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper but Riki hears you, he hears you loud and clear and he can’t help but groan softly in response. “Then let me show you what life could be like with me in Chicago, let me show you how much I like you, how much you mean to me, angel. Let me show you this was never casual for me.” He practically begs against your clothed thigh, pressing kisses over your knees.
“Riki, I want that so bad. I want to be yours, all yours.” You whisper, already breathless despite still being fully clothed. Riki is already so painfully hard in his jeans, he would be embarrassed if it was anyone else, but with you he only wants to show you how good you make him feel. He wants to prove that this means more to him than you know.
“You’ve been mine, just like I’ve been yours since day one. But it looks like you forgot that for a while so let me remind you, angel, yeah?” You nod quickly causing the blonde to chuckle at your eagerness. “Lift your hips for me, baby.” You do as you're told, allowing Riki to pull down your jeans and panties in one go. You’re completely bare now from the waist down, blushing at how Riki pulls your thighs apart to admire your soaked cunt.
“Fuck, I’ve missed you. Missed this pretty pussy too.” His hand reaches up under your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the bed, wasting no time in burying himself between your thighs. His tongue swipes from your entrance to your clit, drinking up your arousal in the process. “Fuck, best pussy I’ve ever had and you kept her from me all this time.” Riki goes down on you like a man starved, his tongue slides over your folds with his spit mixing in your arousal.
“Rikii.” You whine, pulling at his hair with one hand while the other holds you upright. Your moans are loud enough to be heard down the hall but luckily everyone else was still outside. His fingers make their way inside you, thrusting them at a steady pace just as his lips suction around your clit. The moan that rips through you is guttural, almost painful in the way your back arches. “Fuck Riki!”
“Yeah? Like that, angel?” His tone is teasingly sexy, you would give anything to have him speak to you like that during all hours of the day. His fingers don’t stop their movements while his tongue circles your clit, hitting exactly where you need.
“Come on my face, baby, mark me as yours.” He groans into you, the vibrations striking a thrill up your spine. “Riki, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna,” Your muscles tense and Riki feels your walls tighten around his fingers until they flutter with your release. You fall back onto the bed, your hand that was previously holding you up coming to meet your other still tangled in his hair, willing to push him away from you as he continues to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm.
“Riki, please.” You're breathless, twitching with the aftershocks of your high. “Hmm?” He mutters, still licking up your release while softly pulling his fingers out of you. He breaks away from you then only to lick his fingers clean, moaning at your taste.
“Rikii, please.” You whine again, this time grabbing at his shoulder to pull him on top of you. “Use your words, baby.” He whispers against your lips, kissing you once, twice, before leaning back. “Please fuck me.” He smirks then, reaching to pull his shirt over his head then leaning down to remove yours as well. He groans upon finding that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath your shirt, tits already bare and ready for him to lick and suck on.
“Fuck, I missed every part of you, I missed you so bad.” He sucks your nipple into his mouth while his hands unbutton his pants, pushing them and his underwear down at the same time. “I missed you too, Ki. Missed you so much.” You throw your head back as his hard dick finally makes contact with your wet folds. Riki wraps a hand around the base of his length, guiding his tip up and down your folds, collecting your wetness and smearing it all over you.
“So messy for me, angel, just how I like you. So perfect like this. You gonna let me fuck you raw again? Gonna let me come inside you and show you you’re mine?” You nod, wrapping your legs around his waist and tilting your hips upwards. “Please, Ki.”
Riki crashes his lips onto yours just as he pushes inside you, you swallow each other's moans without breaking the kiss. His hips thrusts into you, reaching so deep inside you so brutally you were already seeing stars. You walls clench around him, already trying to milk him for all he’s worth.
“Shit, you were made for me, angel, you feel that? Feel how well we fit together?” He snaps into you harder, lifting up to have his right hand hold your hips while the other gropes your breast. “Ki, s’good Ki.” His name is the only coherent thing you can moan now, feeling your eyes rolling back to your skull at the insane pleasure you feel.
His right hand sneaks under your thigh, pushing it up until it's against your stomach. With this angle he can feel himself even deeper inside you, your walls clenching even tighter. You lean your head back, exposing your neck to him in invitation. Riki takes his left hand to wrap around your throat, squeezing slightly, not enough to restrict your airway but enough to show you he could if he wanted to.
“Feels good, baby?” He waits for you to nod, “Yeah? This is all yours, you can always feel this good with me, here and now and in the fall in Chicago. I’m all yours baby, this dick is yours, this mouth is yours, these hands,” he squeezes your throat again, “are yours. Now come on my dick and show me you’re mine too.”
Another moan rips through your throat, “I’m yours, Ki, fuckk all yours. I’m gonna come.” His left hand releases your throat to play with your clit in time to his thrusts. “That’s it, that’s my girl.” Just as you both reach your highs, Riki leans down to crash his lips onto yours once again, kissing you deeply all while his motions never cease, fucking you both through your orgasms.
Riki doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to twitch with the overstimulation, he presses another kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out of you. His release mixes with yours and oozes out of you and Riki can't help but state, still holding your thigh up to see your cunt clench around nothing. “Fuck, that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He groans as he watches you clench again at his words.
Your hands reach to pull him on top of you again, this time kissing him slower but just as passionate as before. “Why wait until the fall?” You ask as you pull away.
“What?”
“Move in with me in June, just until you get your place in August. Move to Chicago with me, Riki. I don’t want to spend any more time apart.” Your heart is pounding again, still attempting to catch your breath.
“You’re serious?” He asks, studying your eyes for any hint of hesitation but you only nod and smile at him. “Dead serious, I want to be with you.” Riki smiles that boxy smile you’ve grown to love before pulling you in for another kiss. “I want to be with you all the time, you’re gonna be sick of me by July.” He laughs into your neck, kissing down your bare collarbone.
“I don’t think that’s possible.” And you believed it, at this point Riki has found his way so deeply into your system it would be impossible to get rid of him even if you tried. Not that you’d ever want to anyway.
➜ summary: ni-ki likes his best friend. but sunoo thinks he likes self-sabotaging himself more.
pairing: ni-ki x f!reader, wc: 13k words , genre: best friends to lovers w: rude jokes, cussing, kissing
a/n: hi friends! i'm finally back and have a little bit of time for myself to write this fic! hope u all like it! <3 also, happiest birthday to my bias, heeseung! :)
“Damn, you’re in this dorm room more than I am.”
The words came from Sunoo, somewhere behind you, muffled by the sound of your laughter. You were curled up on Ni-ki’s bed, half-buried in his gray hoodie that was a little too big on you, scrolling through your phone while he sat at his desk pretending to focus on his laptop.
He wasn’t. He never did when you were here.
“Well, I can’t help it,” you said, tossing a chip at Sunoo. “I just like the atmosphere.”
“The atmosphere,” Sunoo repeated, eyes sparkling. “You mean Ni-ki.”
You rolled your eyes. “He’s quiet. It’s peaceful.”
Ni-ki didn’t look up, but the corner of his mouth twitched, that small, barely-there smile he couldn’t suppress whenever you said something like that. He’d learned to hide it well. You talked too much, smiled too easily, filled the silence. You were everything he wasn’t, and somehow, the two of you got along too well.
“You two are disgusting,” Sunoo sighed, throwing a pillow at him next. “Ni-ki, blink twice if you’re tired of her stupid ass.”
Ni-ki blinked once. Slowly.
You laughed. “See? He loves me.”
He did. God, he did.
He loved you in ways you’d never notice. In the way his fingers brushed crumbs off your desk before you came over. In how he kept your favorite drink stocked in the fridge even though he never drank it himself. In the way he memorized your class schedule better than his own.
Literally. He once showed up an hour late to his psych lecture but somehow was always perfectly on time to pick you up from your Wednesday classes. You called it intuition. He called it sprinting across three buildings just to see your face light up when you saw him.
And when you laughed like how you always did, head tilted back, messy hair framing your face, it hurt a little. Because you were too close to him in every way but the one he wanted most.
“Don’t encourage him though, Sunoo,” you said, flicking your hair over your shoulder. “He’s probably bored out of his mind.”
But when your gaze met his, his heart stuttered.
Because bored was the last thing he’d ever be when it came to you.
“Do you ever get sick of her constant nagging? It’s like—we’re in college, we don’t need reminders of when our assignments are due.”
“Well, have you done it?” Ni-ki’s voice came from so close it startled you, his breath grazing your ear. It wasn’t even a whisper, but it lingered. The kind of proximity that felt too natural now. A little too natural.
You forced a scoff, trying not to show how your heart had tripped over itself. “No,” you muttered, turning just enough to meet his gaze. “But…I also just hate hearing her talk.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him, soft but edged with amusement. “You hate everyone who gives homework.”
“Because assignments are the work of the devil,” you shot back. “And Mrs. Park—” you paused, shuddering dramatically, “she’s like metal in a blender. How can someone be both boring and loud at the same time?”
Ni-ki hummed lowly, closing his laptop with one hand while still leaning against the table beside you. “You still sit in the front row though.”
“That’s because you sit in the front row,” you countered. “I’m just being a supportive friend.”
“Right,” he said, one brow arching, “a supportive friend who copies my notes.”
You gave him a look. “Group effort!”
He smiled at that, softest curve of his lips that you almost missed if you weren’t already staring at him.
There was a beat of silence.
You could hear Sunoo humming faintly from the bathroom, some upbeat song you were sure was from that one cartoon about demons but couldn’t care to watch.
“God, Sunoo! Can you pipe down? I can’t focus!” you yelled, throwing your pen across the desk for dramatic effect.
“NO!” came Sunoo’s shrieked reply, echoing off the tiled walls.
You groaned, slumping over the desk. “He’s annoying.”
Ni-ki didn’t answer right away. When you turned to glare at him, he was already watching you, chin propped on his hand, eyes curved in that quiet, amused way that made your stomach twist.
“What?” you snapped, trying not to sound flustered.
“Nothing.” His lips tugged upward, just slightly. “You’re cute when you’re angry.”
You froze. “Excuse me?”
“Nothing,” he repeated, leaning back in his chair this time, pretending to look at his laptop again. But the tips of his ears were pink, and you knew he was lying through his teeth.
You threw a pencil at him, it bounced off his shoulder harmlessly. “Don’t say stuff like that if you don’t mean it, weirdo.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said smoothly, too smoothly.
That one stung a little, though you’d never admit it.
From the bathroom, Sunoo’s humming turned into full-blown singing. You stared at the door like it had personally wronged you. “I swear I’m going to lock him in there.”
Ni-ki chuckled under his breath, that low sound that always came from somewhere deep. “You’d miss him.”
You huffed. “No, I’d finally have peace.”
“Liar,” he said softly, so soft you almost didn’t catch it.
You looked at him again. The lamplight hit his features in a way that made your throat go dry, sharp jaw, tired eyes, that small, knowing smile like he was thinking a thousand things he’d never say.
“Stop staring,” you muttered.
“I’m not.”
He was.
Ni-ki wasn’t a touchy-feely type of person. The last time he liked a girl was in kindergarten, and even then, it was mostly because she had the same colored lunchbox. He didn’t understand love, never cared to. It seemed messy and loud. Two things he carefully avoided.
He despised it, really.
Until you.
You weren’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be another stranger in the crowd that day, hurrying through the campus café, mumbling apologies when you bumped into him. But instead, there was the crash of his coffee spilling across his white jacket, the heat seeping into the fabric and then you.
You, with your wide, deer-like eyes and trembling hands clutching a handful of napkins like they could fix it.
“I—I’m so sorry,” you had stammered, voice shaking as you dabbed helplessly at his chest. “I didn’t see where I was going—oh my god, your jacket—”
And Ni-ki, who should’ve been annoyed because it was his favorite jacket, and he hated being touched, and you were practically patting his chest like a mad woman, just…stood there.
Frozen.
Because all at once, his brain stopped working. His usual calm fractured under the sound of your voice, the scent of your shampoo, the way your eyes flicked up to meet his. And something in his chest, something rusted shut for years, change.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t fireworks or movie music. It was worse.
You finally looked up, breathless. “I’ll pay for dry cleaning, I promise.”
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to say something. “It’s fine,” he’d murmured, even though it wasn’t.
But it became fine, somehow. Because that was the moment everything started, the start of every long study night, every shared meal, every small favor that became an excuse to see you again.
And somewhere between all of that, he realized he didn’t despise love anymore. He despised how much it hurt to keep it quiet.
—
“Jungwon asked me out,” you said, dropping onto the couch beside Sunoo with a dramatic sigh. The cushions bounced from the impact. “Didn’t think he liked me like that.”
You shoved a handful of popcorn into your mouth.
Sunoo scoffed without looking up from the TV remote. “Oh please, he drools every time he’s near you.”
From across the room, the faint clack of a keyboard stopped.
Ni-ki’s head lifted just slightly, eyes flicking up from his laptop. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even move but his jaw tensed just enough for Sunoo to catch it.
You didn’t notice. You never did.
He forced his attention back to the screen, pretending to type something. Pretending not to hear the rest of the conversation that was now clawing at his chest.
“He said he wants to grab dinner this weekend,” you went on, kicking your legs up over Sunoo’s lap. “I don’t even know if it’s, like, a date date. Maybe he just wants to hang out.”
Sunoo snorted. “Yeah, a hang out with romantic intentions and sweaty palms. Definitely platonic.”
You groaned. “Ugh, don’t make it sound weird.”
Ni-ki’s fingers hovered above the keys, unmoving. He wasn’t even reading the notes on his screen anymore. He could hear the laugh in your voice and the sound of it made something bitter stir at the back of his throat.
He’d known you for almost two years now. You came over to their dorm more than anyone else. You borrowed his hoodies, fell asleep on his bed, stole his pens, talked about everything under the sun except things like this.
Things that mattered.
Things that involved love.
Those conversations always went to Sunoo.
Sunoo…evil, grinning, tactless Sunoo.
Ni-ki shot him a look. Sunoo caught it immediately, his lips twitching. “What?”
Ni-ki shook his head. “Nothing.”
It wasn’t nothing. It was everything.
He hated how easily you talked to Sunoo about other guys, how your eyes sparkled when you gushed over a text, how you sought his opinion instead of his. But mostly, he hated how he’d built this quiet, careful version of himself around you that you never even thought to ask what he thought about you dating someone else.
“Do you think I should say yes?” you asked, glancing toward him at last.
Sunoo hummed dramatically. “Depends. Are you ready to make your favorite boy here third wheel every weekend?”
You laughed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Riki could never be a third wheel. If anything, any guy I date’s gonna be the third wheel. Right, Riki?”
You said it with a grin, tossing a popcorn kernel at him like it was all one big joke. But Ni-ki couldn’t even form a proper answer.
He wanted to agree. He wanted to play along, roll his eyes and throw a pillow back at you like he always did. But something about the way you looked at him made his throat tighten.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice a little rougher than he meant. “Sure.”
Sunoo turned his head just enough to catch the flicker in Ni-ki’s eyes, and the teasing smirk that had been perched on his lips softened. Only for a second.
You didn’t notice. You’d already gone back to scrolling through your phone, humming under your breath.
Ni-ki’s gaze lingered on you, on the way you absentmindedly tugged the sleeve of his hoodie over your fingers, on the small crease between your brows when you were focused. His hoodie. His. And still, he wasn’t the one you came to when your heart fluttered.
It was strange, really. To sit a few feet away from someone who felt like home, and realize that home didn’t belong to you.
He forced his attention back to his laptop, pretending to read, pretending to breathe. “You’ll have fun,” he said finally, keeping his tone even.
You glanced up, smiling again. “You think so?”
He nodded once. “Yeah.”
–
Ni-ki was asleep until he heard someone at the door knocking profusely. He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face. Who the hell was banging at 3 a.m.? The vibration of it echoed through the thin dorm walls.
He checked his phone. 3:02 a.m. Of course. Probably Sunoo, out drinking again, forgetting his keys like always.
“Fucking Sunoo,” he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.
He trudged to the door, blanket half-draped over his shoulders. “For fuck’s sake, what—”
The rest of the sentence died in his throat.
It wasn’t Sunoo. It was you.
Your hair was a mess, your cheeks blotchy, and his hoodie hung off you like it was the only thing keeping you together. Your eyes were red, glassy, trembling.
“Hey, hey, hey…” The irritation bled out of him instantly.
He reached for you before you could even speak, arms wrapping around you in a way that felt instinctual. You collapsed against him, shaking, your face pressed into his chest.
“My cat died,” you whispered.
The words broke. So did something in him.
He tightened his hold, one hand cradling the back of your head, thumb moving slowly against your hair. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
You hiccuped, the sound small and raw. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
That line hit harder than you meant it to.
Because of course you came here, where else would you go at three in the morning?
And still, somewhere deep down, Ni-ki wished you’d come for him, not just the comfort he offered.
“It’s okay,” he said softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
You didn’t respond, only buried yourself further into him. He stood there for a long moment, the chill from the hallway sneaking in around you both, his heart thudding heavy and uneven beneath your ear.
Eventually, he guided you inside, closing the door quietly behind him.
“Come on,” he whispered, steering you toward his bed. “You can stay here tonight.”
You nodded, eyes still wet. You didn’t notice the way he kept his distance for a moment, fighting the urge to pull you close again.
When you finally lay down, curling into the sheets, he sat at the edge, watching you in the dim glow from his desk lamp. Your breathing slowed. His didn’t.
Ni-ki ran a hand through his hair and sighed quietly. “You really kill me, you know that?”
But you were already asleep.
He sat there for a long time, the dim light from his desk lamp softening the room into quiet gold. You looked peaceful now, your breathing slow and even, nothing like the trembling mess that had stood at his door hours ago. His hoodie swallowed you whole, the sleeves falling over your hands, and the faint traces of tears still shimmered against your cheeks. You had fallen asleep clutching the edge of his blanket, like you were afraid it might slip away.
He knew he should look away, let himself rest, but he couldn’t stop watching you. It felt unfair that someone could be so close and still so unreachable. He memorized the way your hair fell against the pillow, the way your lashes cast shadows over your face. You were right there, and yet it felt like you were miles away.
“I wish you’d stop running to everyone else when it hurts,” he murmured.
He gave a small, humorless laugh under his breath and shook his head. “You’ll never know that, will you?”
He leaned back and rubbed his face with both hands. He was tired, but not the kind that sleep could fix. This exhaustion came from keeping too much inside, from swallowing every word.
“You’re not even awake,” he whispered, a note of frustration slipping through now. “What’s the point of saying anything?”
The words he wanted to say hovered at the back of his throat. I love you. They were there, aching, desperate, but he couldn’t let them out. Once he did, everything would change, and he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready to lose you.
“Never mind,” he said finally. His voice was softer now, almost resigned. He pulled the blanket higher over your shoulders, his fingers brushing your arm for a second before he quickly withdrew his hand. “Goodnight, idiot.”
He turned off the lamp and lay down beside you, facing the wall. The room fell into stillness. He could hear your breathing behind him, steady and calm, while his own chest felt too tight to match the rhythm. He closed his eyes, pretending that it was enough just to have you there, even like this.
—
When Ni-ki woke up, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It wasn’t the usual mix of detergent, coffee, and leftover takeout that filled the dorm. It was something else. Something different.
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming. The air carried the scent of eggs and toast, something faintly sweet underneath. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, frowning at the light spilling in through the blinds. Then he heard it. The faint clatter of a pan. The soft shuffle of feet. The sound of you humming off-key under your breath.
He pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his neck, and shuffled toward the doorway. The scene that greeted him almost knocked the air out of his chest.
You were standing at the stove in his oversized apron, the one he’d bought on impulse during a grocery run with Sunoo because it was on sale. It practically swallowed you whole. The strings were tied clumsily in the back, the hem brushing against your knees. You were trying to flip a pancake with more determination than skill, your hair a mess and your face still puffy from crying the night before.
And somehow, you were still the prettiest thing he had ever seen.
Ni-ki leaned against the doorframe, watching you frown in concentration as the pancake folded in half mid-flip. You cursed softly under your breath, and he bit back a smile. The sight of you there, in his kitchen, in his clothes, moving around like you belonged, made something warm and unfamiliar spread through his chest.
“You’re awake,” you said when you finally noticed him. You looked up, spatula in hand, eyes wide for a moment before your face softened into a smile. “I was gonna surprise you.”
He blinked, still half-asleep, still not sure what to do with the image in front of him. “You did.”
You laughed quietly. “I wanted to say thank you. For last night.”
He stepped closer, the smell of syrup and butter wrapping around him. “You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to,” you said, turning back to the stove. “You always take care of me, so I thought… maybe I could do the same, just once.”
The words hit him harder than they should have. He stood there for a second, heart thudding in a rhythm that didn’t match the quiet morning. He should have said something, but his voice felt stuck in his throat.
Instead, he reached over and gently took the spatula from your hand. “You’re burning it.”
You gasped, turning back to the pan in horror. “No, I’m not—oh my god, I am.”
He laughed under his breath, flipping the pancake easily. “You can’t even cook breakfast without starting a fire.”
You stuck your tongue out at him, and he thought for a moment that maybe, if he stayed still long enough, the world might stop spinning and stay like this forever.
Because this was the closest he’d ever come to having you.
–
The kitchen light hung above them, casting everything in that too-yellow glow that made the takeout they were eating look even more depressing. Ni-ki and Sunoo sat at the table with half-eaten boxes of fried rice between them. It was quiet. No laughter, no yelling, no sound of you rummaging through the fridge for snacks that belonged to Sunoo.
Sunoo slumped back in his chair and sighed dramatically. “Damn, it’s quiet without her here.”
Ni-ki poked his rice. “Yeah.”
The silence that followed was long enough for Sunoo to chew, swallow, and reconsider his entire life before he spoke again. “I don’t know how you do it.”
Ni-ki looked up, a single eyebrow raised. “Do what?”
Sunoo leaned forward, elbows on the table like he was about to reveal state secrets. “You know… keep all that bottled up. Your feelings for her.”
Ni-ki blinked once. “What feelings?”
Sunoo gave him a look. “Don’t play dumb, you literally turn into a lovesick dog whenever she’s around.”
“I don’t like her. I mean, I do but not like that.” Ni-ki’s tone was flat, too casual to be believable.
“Right,” Sunoo said, nodding like he was humoring a toddler. “If you say so.”
Ni-ki stabbed at a grain of rice.
“I’m not an idiot,” Sunoo continued, grinning. He pointed his chopsticks at him. “It’s so obvious. I wasn’t sure at first, but then that night she came over crying at three in the morning? The cat thing?”
Ni-ki froze. “What about it?”
“I saw you crashing out beside her.”
Ni-ki groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re a freak for peeking, by the way.”
“I heard crying at 3 a.m.,” Sunoo protested. “I thought a ghost came to drag you to hell. I was being a good friend.”
“You were being a nosy one.”
Sunoo smirked. “Semantics. Anyway, you were holding her so tight. It was cute. A little creepy, but cute.”
Ni-ki glared. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Of course I am. It’s like watching the world’s longest slow burn.”
Ni-ki shoved his plate toward him. “Eat your food before I throw it at you.”
Sunoo laughed, standing up to grab a drink from the fridge. “Just saying. You can only stare at her like that for so long before she notices.”
Ni-ki looked down at his hands, his voice low. “She won’t.”
Sunoo leaned against the counter, sipping his soda, his tone suddenly softer. “Yeah, not unless you want her to.”
Ni-ki didn’t answer.
Then the doorbell rang.
Both of them froze.
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Speak of the devil,” he muttered.
Ni-ki shot him a look before getting up. His chair scraped against the floor, echoing through the apartment. He was halfway to the door when Sunoo called after him, voice dripping with mischief. “If it’s her, try not to look like you’ve been thinking about her for the past thirty minutes.”
“I don’t like her like that, Sunoo.” He rolled his eyes.
The second the door swung open, the world tilted.
You were standing there with a paper bag clutched in your hands, a nervous smile on your face. Jungwon stood beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushed yours every time either of you moved. His hands were tucked casually in his pockets, and he looked too at ease for Ni-ki’s liking.
“Hey,” you said softly, your tone shy but light. “We brought you something. We were at this new ramen place and thought you might want some too.”
Ni-ki blinked, his mind catching on one word. We.
Sunoo appeared beside him almost instantly, eyes glinting. “We? As in, you and Jungwon?”
Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, um… we had dinner. Together.”
Jungwon smiled down at you. “It was kind of a date, actually.”
You swatted his arm, embarrassed, but the small, genuine laugh that followed made Ni-ki’s stomach tighten. Jungwon only grinned wider, brushing a stray crumb from your cheek with his thumb.
Ni-ki’s hands curled into fists in his pockets before he even realized it. The sight shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but there it was sharp and sour, spreading through his chest like something bitter.
Sunoo, of course, caught it immediately. He didn’t say anything yet, just bit back a knowing smile.
“Oh, how sweet,” he said instead, all mock delight. “You two should come in. Ni-ki was just saying how much he missed you.”
“I wasn’t,” Ni-ki muttered, jaw tight.
But you were already stepping inside, Jungwon following close behind. You slipped off your shoes and looked around the apartment, smiling faintly. “It’s cleaner than usual.”
“Yeah,” Sunoo said smoothly, “we deep-cleaned to impress guests.”
You laughed, oblivious to the tension thickening the air. Jungwon placed the takeout on the counter, glancing around. “This place is cozy. You guys hang out a lot here?”
“All the time,” Sunoo said, his grin sharpening. “Especially her and Ni-ki. Practically inseparable.”
You elbowed him lightly. “Don’t exaggerate.”
“Not exaggerating,” Sunoo said cheerfully. “He gets withdrawal when you’re gone.”
Ni-ki gave him a look that could kill. “Sunoo.”
“What?” Sunoo blinked innocently. “Just saying.”
Jungwon chuckled, draping an arm casually over the back of your chair. “That’s cute, though. You guys must be close.”
You smiled at Ni-ki, eyes soft. “We are.”
He looked back at you for a moment too long before forcing a shrug. “Guess so.”
But his stomach turned when Jungwon leaned in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “I get it. She’s easy to get attached to.”
Your face went red, but you didn’t push him away. You only laughed awkwardly, eyes darting to your hands. Ni-ki’s chest burned.
He wasn’t angry. Not exactly. Just… painfully aware of everything Jungwon got to do that he didn’t. The easy touches, the effortless closeness, the right to call it a date.
Sunoo didn’t miss the way Ni-ki’s expression cracked for half a second, the tension in his jaw, the tight grip on his drink, the faint twitch in his temple when Jungwon reached over and tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear.
When you finally stood to leave, the air in the room was too still.
“Anyway,” you said, smiling, “thanks for letting us stop by. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
Jungwon gave a friendly nod. “Later, man.”
Ni-ki barely managed a quiet, “Yeah. Later.”
The door clicked shut behind you, and the silence that followed was deafening.
Sunoo was the first to break it. He turned slowly, his grin spreading like he’d just won the lottery. “Still won’t admit you like her?”
Ni-ki groaned, dragging both hands over his face. “Don’t start.”
Sunoo leaned against the counter, eyes gleaming. “You literally looked like you were watching your crush get proposed to, Ki.”
“Shut up.”
“I mean, the way you flinched when Jungwon touched her? I almost felt bad for you. Almost.”
Ni-ki dropped his head into his hands with a groan that came out more like a growl.
Sunoo laughed, reaching over to pat his shoulder. “You’re so gone, man.”
Ni-ki didn’t even bother arguing this time. He just mumbled into his palms, voice muffled and defeated. “I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo said, grinning wider. “But you love her.”
—
The next morning, Ni-ki pretended he was fine.
He got up earlier than usual, showered, made coffee, even cleaned his desk. It was his foolproof routine for pretending not to think about things. But his mind kept circling back to last night, to you standing in the doorway with Jungwon, cheeks flushed from laughter, that paper bag crinkling in your hands. The way Jungwon leaned toward you, easy and familiar, like he had every right to.
Ni-ki tried to shake it off. He told himself it didn’t matter. You were free to go on dates with whoever you wanted. He was just your friend. A good friend.
By the time he stepped out of his room, Sunoo was already sitting on the couch, munching on chips at nine in the morning like the agent of chaos he was. He didn’t even look up, just smirked. “Morning, lover boy.”
Ni-ki ignored him. He grabbed his keys, his bag, and muttered something about heading to class early.
“Class doesn’t start for another hour,” Sunoo said around a mouthful of chips.
“Yeah. I know.”
Sunoo laughed quietly. “Running away already?”
Ni-ki didn’t answer. He just left.
–
Ni-ki had been avoiding you for three days.
Three days of walking the long way to class, of slipping out of the dorm whenever Sunoo mentioned your name, of replying to your messages hours late with short, clipped answers that didn’t sound like him at all. It was pathetic, maybe, but it was the only thing that worked. If he couldn’t see you, he couldn’t think about you. And if he couldn’t think about you, maybe he could stop feeling like this.
He told himself it was fine. You didn’t notice. You were busy. You had Jungwon now, and Jungwon made you laugh in a way Ni-ki hadn’t heard in a long time. That thought alone made his chest ache in a way that felt too raw to touch.
The afternoon sun was hot on his back as he crossed the quad, headphones in, his bag slung loosely over one shoulder. He kept his eyes on the path ahead, pretending not to see the familiar flash of your jacket from the corner of his vision. Pretending not to hear your voice calling his name.
“Ki!”
His steps faltered, just once, but he kept walking.
“Ni-ki!”
You were closer now, footsteps quick behind him. He could hear the edge of confusion in your tone, a note of worry that made him grit his teeth. He didn’t want to turn around. If he did, he’d crumble.
You caught up anyway, your hand brushing against his sleeve. “Hey—why are you ignoring me?”
He stopped, just long enough to take a breath, but he didn’t look at you. “I’m not.”
“Then what is it?” you pressed, panting lightly from the chase. “You’ve been avoiding me. You don’t answer texts, you barely say hi. Did I do something?”
Ni-ki forced a shrug, his voice even but hollow. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Then why—”
“I’ve got to go,” he cut in, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. “I’m late.”
You frowned. “Late for what? You don’t even have class now—”
But he was already stepping away. “I’ll see you around.”
You blinked, thrown off by how detached he sounded. “Ni-ki, wait—”
He didn’t. He just lifted a hand in a vague wave without looking back, his pace quickening until your voice grew smaller behind him.
“Ni-ki!”
He heard it again, echoing faintly through the courtyard, but he didn’t turn around. He couldn’t. His chest felt too tight, his throat too dry, and if he looked at you now, at the confusion on your face, at the hurt he’d put there, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.
So he kept walking.
When he finally reached the edge of campus, his pulse was racing, his palms clammy around the strap of his bag. He stopped beneath the shade of a tree and leaned against it, shutting his eyes for a second.
It didn’t help. All he could see was the look on your face when he walked away.
–
He saw you again a few days later.
He hadn’t planned to. He was on his way to a morning lecture, half-awake, headphones in, clutching a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. The campus walkway was crowded, a stream of students moving between buildings. He was fine, he told himself.
Then he saw you.
You were walking beside Jungwon, laughing at something he said, your hands moving animatedly as you talked. You looked as bright as always. The sight hit him before he could brace for it, a sharp, unrelenting pang right in the center of his chest. It wasn’t new, but it still knocked the air out of him every time.
He told himself to keep walking, to look away, but his eyes refused to listen. They found you easily, as if they were made for that. You turned mid-sentence, and when your gaze met his, your whole face lit up.
“Ni-ki!”
Your voice carried above the hum of the crowd. You lifted your hand to wave, already starting toward him. For a heartbeat, something in him lurched forward, his instinct, his want, every part of him that missed you.
Then he looked away.
He pretended he hadn’t seen you, slipping his earphones back in, fixing his eyes straight ahead. His footsteps quickened, the click of his shoes against the pavement louder than your voice behind him. He didn’t look back.
His pulse was hammering. He didn’t even know where he was walking anymore, only that he had to move, had to get away before the expression on your face burned itself into his memory too deeply.
He told himself it was better this way. That he was protecting what you had by keeping his distance. But the truth clawed at him with every step. It was killing him not to be next to you. Not to hear your laugh up close, not to have you filling the silence beside him the way you always used to.
He missed you so much it made him feel sick.
And the worst part was, he didn’t even know how to stop.
His feelings were eating him alive, piece by piece, and all he could do was keep walking, pretending he hadn’t seen the only person who made him feel anything at all.
—
Ni-ki sat cross-legged on the floor, a paintbrush balanced loosely between his fingers, music bleeding faintly from his headphones. The smell of watercolor and paper filled the air, the kind of quiet comfort that usually helped him think, or not think, depending on the day. His canvas lay across his lap, soft strokes of blue and gray slowly taking shape. He wasn’t sure what he was painting anymore; it had started as an assignment, but now it just looked like a mess.
When the water cup tipped over, it happened too fast. The murky liquid spilled across the corner of his canvas, seeping through the paper in blotches of brown and gray.
“Great,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his headphones off and reaching for a towel. “Perfect. Just perfect.”
He was halfway through dabbing at the mess when the door slammed open. The sudden bang of it hitting the wall made him jump, paintbrush clattering onto the floor.
“What the hell—” he started, turning around.
Sunoo stood in the doorway, arms crossed, expression thunderous. “What’s this I hear about you ignoring her?”
Ni-ki blinked. “Who told you—”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” Sunoo snapped, stepping into the room. “You’ve been acting weird for days. She came looking for you this morning, by the way. You weren’t here. Again.”
Ni-ki exhaled slowly, sitting back on his heels. He didn’t even try to deny it. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “I like her.”
For a second, Sunoo froze, like he hadn’t expected him to actually admit it. Then his jaw dropped. “And your big plan is to ignore her?” He threw his hands up, exasperated. “Are you stupid, or are you fucking stupid?”
“Look,” Ni-ki said, dragging a hand through his hair, his tone edged with exhaustion. “It’s clear she and Jungwon are trying to be a thing. I don’t want to get in the way. I’m not that guy.”
Sunoo scoffed, stepping closer. “You’re unbelievable. She’s not even taken yet, and you’ve already given up? You’re just gonna roll over and die while someone else gets her?”
Ni-ki’s eyes flicked up, tired but firm. “It’s not about that. I just… want her to be happy.”
“Happy?” Sunoo repeated. “You think she’s happy right now?”
Ni-ki didn’t answer. He looked down at the ruined canvas, the water still dripping down the side of it. His reflection stared back faintly in the puddle.
“She’s not happy,” Sunoo said, his voice softer now. “You’re her friend, Ni-ki. She doesn’t even know why you’re avoiding her. She thinks she did something wrong.”
Ni-ki’s throat tightened. He stared at the paint-stained towel in his hands, fingers trembling slightly.
“I just can’t be around her,” he said finally, his voice low.
Sunoo crouched beside him, the anger gone now, replaced with something gentler. “You really love her, huh?”
Ni-ki gave a small, broken laugh. “Yeah. Enough to stay out of her way if that’s what she wants.”
Sunoo sighed, shaking his head. “You know what your problem is? You keep thinking love means disappearing. It doesn’t.”
Ni-ki didn’t respond. He just stared at the smeared paint spreading across the paper, watching the colors bleed into each other.
Sunoo clapped a hand on his shoulder, firm but not unkind. “Stop being a coward, Ki. Before you lose her for real.”
And for the first time in days, Ni-ki didn’t have a single thing to say back.
—
Ni-ki hadn’t slept the entire night.
He lay awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word Sunoo had thrown at him hours ago. She’s not even taken yet. You won’t fight for her? The words burrowed deep, kept circling back every time he shut his eyes. He hated that Sunoo was right. You weren’t with Jungwon. Not officially, anyway. But you could be. Soon.
Technically, he could still fight for you.
He could still tell you everything. How his chest ached when you smiled at someone else. How every time your hand brushed his, it left a mark that didn’t fade. He could still try. But instead, he’d spent days pretending he didn’t see you, days convincing himself you were happier without him.
He rubbed at his tired eyes, the room still bathed in the blue light of dawn. His paintbrushes were scattered across the desk, his ruined canvas lying forgotten beside a half-empty cup of cold coffee. Jungwon was perfect for you. Handsome. Smart. Kind. The kind of guy people didn’t have to second-guess. Maybe that was what hurt most of all.
Ni-ki didn’t want him for you. He wanted himself for you.
Enough was enough.
He sat up suddenly, the decision hitting him all at once. He grabbed the first hoodie he could find, pulled it over his head, and shoved his feet into his sneakers. Maybe you were still awake. Maybe it wasn’t too late to fix things.
He snatched his car keys from the desk, heart hammering as he moved toward the door. But when he swung it open, ready to finally face you, he froze.
You were standing right there.
Your eyes were bloodshot, your hair messy like you’d been crying for hours. In your hands was the little stuffed bear he’d won for you at the carnival last year, the one you used to keep on your bed.
He gulped, caught completely off guard. “I was just about to—”
“What did I do wrong?” Your voice cracked halfway through, the words trembling in the air between you.
“What?”
You looked up at him, eyes wet and desperate. “I’ve been wrecking my brain for days. Did I do something wrong?”
Ni-ki’s breath caught. For a second, he couldn’t move. You were shaking, your fingers twisting the hem of the hoodie you wore… his hoodie. He could see how red your nose was, how uneven your breathing had become. You looked heartbroken, and it hit him like a punch to the chest.
He hadn’t meant for it to get this far. He hadn’t meant to make you think he hated you, or that you weren’t enough, or that you’d done something wrong. All he’d wanted was to keep his feelings under control, but somehow, all he’d managed to do was hurt you.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
You took a small step closer, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”
And just like that, Ni-ki felt everything crumble. Every wall he’d built, every reason he’d told himself for staying away, it all collapsed under the weight of your shaking voice and the sight of that stupid stuffed bear clutched in your hands.
How could he do this to you?
You stood there trembling, eyes glassy and raw, clutching that little stuffed bear. He couldn’t stand it. The sight of you crying because of him was worse than anything he’d imagined.
He didn’t even think. His body moved before his brain did.
He reached for you and pulled you in. The bear was squished between you, but you didn’t let go of it. You just collapsed against his chest, the sound of your shaky breathing breaking what was left of him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He said it again, and again, each time quieter than the last. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
You shook your head against him, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie.
He held you tighter. He could feel your heartbeat pressed against his, fast and uneven. His own chest ached with the rhythm of it.
“I keep hurting you,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I don’t even know how to stop. I just… didn’t want to make things worse.”
You didn’t answer, just buried your face deeper into his shoulder. Your tears soaked through the fabric, but he didn’t care.
He closed his eyes, pressing his chin lightly against your hair, breathing you in like he’d been starved for it. “I’m sorry,” he whispered one last time, the words catching somewhere in his throat.
And for the first time in days, he stopped running.
The two of you were in his room now. The chaos from earlier had faded into stillness. The air smelled faintly of paint and soap, the window cracked just enough for the night breeze to slip in. You sat beside each other on the edge of his bed, knees almost touching, the stuffed bear still resting in your lap.
You’d stopped crying. The redness in your eyes had softened, though your lashes were still damp. Ni-ki’s hoodie hung loose around you, the sleeves falling over your hands. You were quiet. The both of you were.
Ni-ki’s mind was loud. Too loud. Every thought tangled into the same loop of regret and longing. He wanted to speak, but the words felt heavy in his mouth, like anything he said would make it worse. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye. You were staring down at the floor, your fingers worrying the hem of the bear’s little bow.
You were waiting. For him.
He swallowed hard, the silence stretching thin between you. “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said finally. His voice was soft, almost hoarse.
You gave a small nod, still not meeting his gaze. “Then why did you?”
He blinked, startled by how steady your tone was. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”
“With what?” you asked, turning toward him now.
He hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket. “Everything. You. Me. The way it all started to feel.”
Your breath hitched, but you stayed still. He kept his eyes fixed on his hands, afraid that if he looked at you, he’d lose his nerve.
“I thought if I stayed away,” he said quietly, “it would hurt less. For both of us.”
“What do you mean?”
He wasn’t sure if he was ready to tell you how he actually felt. The thought pressed down on him, heavy and restless, like it had been waiting for this exact moment to rise up and choke him.
You sat there beside him, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating from your shoulder. The space between you was small, but it felt like miles.
Ni-ki’s throat was dry. He could feel the words forming, desperate to be said, but every version sounded wrong. What if he said it and ruined everything? What if you didn’t feel the same, and this was the last time you’d ever sit next to him like this?
His fingers twisted the blanket tighter in his hands. He kept his eyes down, staring at the faint stains of watercolor still smudged on his nails. “It’s complicated,” he said at last, his voice so soft it barely reached you.
You turned a little more toward him. “Then explain it to me.”
He shook his head, a weak laugh slipping out that didn’t sound like amusement at all. “If I tell you, you’ll look at me differently. I don’t think I can handle that.”
You frowned, confusion flickering across your face. “Ni-ki, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”
He wanted to say you. He wanted to tell you that every time he’d tried to pull away, he’d only fallen deeper. That seeing you smile at Jungwon made something inside him splinter in a way he didn’t know how to fix.
Instead, he swallowed the words, forcing his voice steady. “Forget it,” he murmured. “It doesn’t matter.”
You stared at him, jaw tightening. You were done with this. Done with the way he drifted close one moment and pulled away the next, the way he said nothing but made you feel everything.
Before he could look away again, you reached out and grabbed his face, your palms pressing against his cheeks, forcing him to look at you.
“No,” you said, your voice trembling. “You’re telling me now.”
Ni-ki froze. His heart stuttered so violently it almost hurt. He hadn’t expected you to touch him. His skin burned under your hands, and all at once, the space between you disappeared. Your faces were close. He could see the faint gloss on your lower lip, the way your lashes flickered with every uneven breath.
“Jesus,” he breathed, eyes darting from your gaze to your mouth and back again. “I can’t just—”
“Yes, you can,” you cut in, your voice cracking with frustration. “You ignored me for a whole week, Ki. You don’t get to say it doesn’t matter. I deserve to know whatever the hell is ruining our friendship.”
Ni-ki exhaled, the sound heavy, shaky. His hands gripped the blanket beneath him as if holding on to something solid might keep him from unraveling completely. “I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” he said finally, his voice low, raw.
You laughed under your breath, bitter and disbelieving. “This—this push and pull thing you’re doing is ruining it!” The words came out louder than you intended, breaking the fragile quiet that had filled the room.
He flinched. His eyes flicked away, then back to you, guilt flooding his face. The truth sat like a stone in his throat, pressing harder with every second you looked at him like that, a little angry but very hurt, and still somehow impossibly close.
He didn’t know what would hurt more anymore: losing you for saying what he felt, or losing you because he was too afraid to say it.
“You’re—you’re killing me, Ki!” you said, your voice trembling. “This whole game, I don’t want to play anymore. I just want my Ni-ki back—”
“THAT’S JUST THE THING!”
His voice exploded through the room before he could stop himself.
You froze. The sound of it cracked something in the air, sharp and sudden. You flinched at the volume, instinctively pulling back, your hands still half-raised as if you weren’t sure what to do with them.
He was on his feet now, shoulders heaving, chest rising and falling as he finally looked at you. There was anger in his eyes, yes, but underneath it sat weeks of exhaustion, guilt, and the kind of heartbreak that made him look older than he was.
“I’m not your Ni-ki,” he said, his voice breaking halfway through the words.
You stared up at him, breath shallow, your heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else. “Wh—what?” you whispered, afraid of the answer.
He raked a hand through his hair, pacing once before stopping a few feet away. His eyes darted toward you, then down to the floor. “You keep saying that. Your Ni-ki. Like I’m this…safe thing you can come back to. Like I’ll always be there no matter what. But I can’t keep doing that, because every time you look at me like I’m just your friend, it feels like I’m tearing myself apart trying to be okay with it.”
Your throat tightened, words caught somewhere between disbelief and guilt.
Ni-ki laughed under his breath, quiet and bitter. “I wanted to stay close to you. I wanted to be there even if you never looked at me the same way. But it’s driving me insane, pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
He looked up then, meeting your eyes again. His voice softened, but it shook slightly. “I’m not your Ni-ki. Not the way you think I am.”
You were stunned into silence. The air between you felt heavier than the walls could hold.
Ni-ki’s words echoed in your head, sharp and shaking at the same time. I’m not your Ni-ki. You looked at him, searching for the boy who’d always been steady but he wasn’t that boy anymore. His eyes were glassy, his jaw tight, his chest still rising and falling from the force of what he’d said.
You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Your throat felt dry. The reality of it hit slowly, like a wave that started small and then crashed all at once. You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what he meant.
But knowing and accepting were different things.
You turned away, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the stuffed bear still lying on his bed. You couldn’t look at him again. Not now. Not when the air between you was filled with everything you’d both been avoiding.
“I—” he started, voice soft now, desperate.
But you shook your head, cutting him off. “Don’t.”
And before he could reach for you, before you could break down and ask him to take it back, you ran.
You slipped out of his room, out of the suffocating stillness, the door clicking shut behind you with a sound that made his stomach drop.
Ni-ki stood there, frozen, the echo of your footsteps fading down the hallway.
For a long time, neither of you moved.
He’d spent weeks avoiding you to protect himself, and now, when he’d finally told you the truth, you were the one running.
And somehow, that hurt even more
—
You didn’t remember leaving the dorm. You didn’t remember the stairs or the way the night air stung your face as you ran. You just remembered your heartbeat in your ears and the way your chest felt too tight to breathe.
By the time you stopped, you were standing in front of Jungwon’s apartment, your fists pounding on his door. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. A light flicked on inside, footsteps followed, and then the door creaked open.
Jungwon stood there in sweatpants and a wrinkled t-shirt, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s—” he glanced at the clock on his wall “—two in the morning.”
You tried to answer, but the words tangled up and broke apart before they could leave your throat. All that came out was a choked sob.
“Whoa, whoa, hey,” he said quickly, stepping aside. “Come in.”
The warmth of his apartment hit you as soon as you stepped in, but it didn’t make the shaking stop. You sank onto his couch, hands covering your face as tears spilled over, messy and uncontrollable. Jungwon hovered for a second, clearly panicking, then grabbed a box of tissues from the table and handed it to you like it might fix everything.
“Okay,” he said slowly, crouching down so you had to look at him. “What happened? Did someone say something? Are you hurt?”
You shook your head, the words spilling out in fragments between sobs. “It’s—Ni-ki. He—he told me he—he said—”
Jungwon’s brows knit together. “Told you he what?”
You took a shaky breath. “That he liked me. That it hurts to be around me. That he’s not my Ni-ki anymore.”
He blinked, confused for a moment, then sat back on his heels. “Wait. Isn’t that… good?”
You looked at him through teary eyes. “What?”
“I mean,” Jungwon said carefully, rubbing the back of his neck, “isn’t that what you wanted? We literally went on fake dates to make him jealous.”
You stared at him, your throat tightening all over again. “I know. I know, but—” You pressed your palms against your eyes, trying to stop the tears. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this.”
Jungwon sighed, sitting beside you. “What did you expect to happen?”
“I don’t know!” you said, your voice cracking. “I just thought… maybe he’d notice me. Maybe he’d care. And he did, but now everything’s just—” You swallowed hard. “Now it’s all messed up. He looked so angry, and I just ran. I ran like an idiot.”
For a moment, Jungwon didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, sympathy softening his face. “You like him,” he said quietly. “You’ve always liked him.”
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.
You just sat there, clutching a tissue in your trembling hands, trying to figure out why you’d let it get this far. Why you’d turned something that used to be so simple into something so painful.
And as the minutes passed, the only thing you could think about was Ni-ki’s voice, sharp and broken in your memory. I’m not your Ni-ki.
You buried your face in your hands again and started to cry all over.
You sat there on Jungwon’s couch long after you’d stopped crying, eyes swollen and throat raw. The tissue box sat empty beside you. You were staring at your hands, at the faint creases where the tissues had crumpled between your fingers.
Jungwon had stopped trying to talk a few minutes ago. He was sitting on the floor now, leaning back against the coffee table, scrolling aimlessly through his phone to give you space. Every now and then, he’d glance up, just to make sure you were still breathing.
You weren’t sure what hurt more, the fight, or the realization that you’d caused it.
Because now that the shock had worn off, and your thoughts were starting to settle, the truth was sitting there plain as day. You liked Ni-ki. You’d liked him for a long time. Maybe you even loved him. But instead of telling him, instead of facing it, you’d made a game out of it. You’d gone on fake dates. You’d let Jungwon tease him, let Sunoo stir the pot, let yourself watch his reactions like they were proof of something you didn’t have the courage to ask for.
And now you’d broken him with it.
You pressed your palms against your eyes again, a weak sound escaping your throat. “What the hell have I been doing?” you whispered.
Jungwon looked up. “You’ve been being human,” he said gently. “Dumb, but human.”
You laughed, a small, pathetic sound that immediately dissolved into another sniffle. “He must hate me now.”
“He doesn’t hate you,” Jungwon said. “He’s just… hurt. You two both are.”
You nodded, even though that didn’t make it hurt any less.
“I was so busy trying to make him jealous I didn’t realize I was just hurting him,” you said quietly.
Jungwon shrugged, giving a small smile. “Hey. For what it’s worth, you did make him jealous. Like, record-breaking levels of jealous.”
That almost got a real laugh out of you. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s a little funny,” he said. Then, softer, “You still have time to fix it.”
You looked down at your hands again. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Maybe start with not running away next time,” Jungwon said.
You let out a long, shaky sigh and nodded. The weight in your chest didn’t lift, but it settled into something steadier. Something like determination.
You knew what you felt now. You were sure of it.
And you hated yourself for realizing it only after you’d been the one to break him.
By the time you were done wallowing in self-pity, the sun had already crept through the curtains. Jungwon was passed out on the couch, one leg hanging off the edge, an empty mug balanced dangerously on the coffee table beside him.
You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie, realizing how long you’d been sitting there. It was already eight in the morning. Your head hurt, your eyes stung, and your heart still ached but underneath all of it was something else now. Clarity.
You were done running.
You took a breath, stood up, and crossed the room. “Jungwon,” you said softly, shaking his shoulder.
He groaned. “Five more minutes.”
“Jungwon,” you said again, a little louder.
He didn’t move.
You frowned and shook him harder. “Jungwon, wake up—”
In a flash, his arm shot up. His hand smacked across your cheek with a sharp slap.
“OW—what the hell!” you yelped, stumbling back and clutching your face.
His eyes flew open, bleary and wild. “Don’t—don’t sneak-attack me when I’m asleep!”
You stared at him in disbelief, then smacked him right back on the arm. “That hurt, you idiot!”
He winced, sitting up and rubbing his face. “You started it!”
“You hit me!”
“You woke me up at 8!”
You groaned, running both hands through your hair. “I don’t have time for this.”
Before he could protest, you grabbed his car keys from the table and shoved them into his hands. “I need you to drive me to Ni-ki’s.”
He blinked, still half-asleep. “Now?”
“Yes, now.” You were already pulling him off the couch, practically dragging him toward the door.
“Can’t it wait until after breakfast?” he muttered, trying to pry his arm free.
“No,” you said firmly. “His first class is at 9. We have to be quick before he leaves.”
Jungwon squinted at you, finally registering the urgency in your voice. “You’re really gonna do it, huh?”
You nodded, heart pounding. “Yeah. I’m gonna tell him.”
He stared at you for a moment, then sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “Alright, alright. Give me two minutes. Gotta pee.”
“You have one,” you said, already waiting by the door.
As he stumbled toward his room, muttering under his breath, you pressed your palms together to stop them from shaking. You were tired. Terrified. But for the first time in days, you felt like you were finally doing something right.
You were going to tell Ni-ki the truth.
–
Ni-ki hadn’t really slept. Maybe three hours, on and off, the kind of restless half-sleep that never gave him any peace. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you standing in his doorway, crying, clutching that stupid bear like it was the last piece of him you could hold. Every time he drifted off, he heard his own voice again, louder than he’d meant it to be. I’m not your Ni-ki.
He groaned as he sat up, pressing his palms over his eyes. His head felt heavy, his chest worse. Still, he went through the motions. Pulled on a hoodie, shoved his books into his bag, and sprayed a couple pumps of cologne. The scent didn’t make him feel any less like trash.
He slung his bag over his shoulder and checked the time. 8:40. If he left now, he’d make it to his first class. Maybe he could pretend to be normal for a few hours before collapsing back into self-loathing.
He stepped outside, blinking against the morning light. The air was sharp and cool, the campus still half-quiet. And then he saw you.
You were stepping out of Jungwon’s car.
Ni-ki stopped walking. The first thing he noticed, against his will, was that you were still in the same clothes from last night. His stomach twisted. He told himself it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t have to mean anything. But his brain wouldn’t stop.
Of course.
Of course the first thing you did after he confessed, or whatever that meltdown last night had been, was run to Jungwon.
He scoffed under his breath, shaking his head. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a genius.”
He watched, even though he shouldn’t have. You stood by the car door, trying to fix your hair, and Jungwon reached over and gently tucked a strand behind your ear. You laughed, a small, tired sound, but it still made Ni-ki’s chest ache.
He tore his gaze away, jaw tight. “God, I’m an idiot,” he whispered, shoving his hands into his pockets.
He should have known better. Should have kept his mouth shut. Should have known that loving you meant watching from a distance while you smiled at someone else. Someone who didn’t have to fight himself every second just to stay sane around you.
He started walking again, fast, pretending not to see you. Pretending not to care. But the image wouldn’t leave his head. Jungwon’s hand brushing against your hair, the sunlight catching your face, the faint smile you gave.
He hated how easily he noticed you. He hated how badly it hurt. And more than anything, he hated himself for not being able to stop looking.
He finally turned away.
His hands were deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, each step heavier than the last. He told himself not to look back. Not this time. If he kept walking, maybe the ache in his chest would dull by the time he reached class.
Then he heard it.
“Ni-ki!”
The sound of your voice froze him in place.
He stopped mid-step, his pulse catching. He turned slowly, like he was afraid of what he’d see.
You were running toward him.
The morning sun hit your hair as you moved, your bag slung over one shoulder, your breath visible in the cool air. Jungwon was still by the car, watching with his arms folded, but you didn’t seem to notice him anymore.
Ni-ki just stood there. His stomach twisted, every part of him torn between wanting to run and wanting to stay.
You finally stopped in front of him, out of breath, eyes wide and unsure. He couldn’t read your expression. You looked like you hadn’t slept either.
“Ni-ki,” you said again, quieter this time.
He swallowed hard. “What are you doing here?”
You hesitated, searching his face. “I came to talk to you.”
He looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of his bag. “You should be talking to Jungwon.”
You frowned, stepping closer. “I did. He drove me here.”
Ni-ki let out a weak laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course he did.”
He couldn’t help himself. The bitterness came out before he could swallow it down. “Look, I get it. You and Jungwon are in love or whatever. That’s fine. But I literally just told you how I feel, and the first thing you do is show up with him? You couldn’t wait a day before rubbing it in my face?”
His words were low but sharp. He hated how small they sounded once they were out. He hated how he could feel jealousy twisting in his chest even as he said them.
You blinked, startled by the edge in his tone. “Ni-ki, it’s not like that—”
He laughed again, short and humorless. “It doesn’t matter. I get it. I said something I shouldn’t have, and it probably messed things up. I just wish—”
You didn’t let him finish.
You stepped closer, the space between you shrinking until he could see the tremble in your hands. Before he could say another word, you leaned in and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.
Ni-ki’s breath caught. His whole body went still.
You pulled back just far enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not like that,” you said softly.
For the first time that morning, he didn’t have a single word left to argue with.
You took a shaky breath, eyes glimmering with guilt. “The whole thing with Jungwon… it was just a way to make you jealous. I know it’s stupid. Immature. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”
He blinked, still too stunned to speak.
You started rambling, words spilling out faster than you could stop them. “I mean, Jungwon’s nice and all, but he’s not even my type. He farts all the time, Ki. All the time. It’s gross and it’s even worse when he eats spicy food. And he burps in my face like all the time, it’s disgusting.”
Ni-ki’s eyebrows furrowed, caught between confusion and disbelief. “What does that have to do—”
“I’m serious,” you said, nodding desperately. “So you really don’t have to be jealous, okay? He’s gross. You, on the other hand—” you stopped, realizing how much you were saying. “You smell nice. And you treat me like a princess. And you—”
“Still jealous,” Ni-ki muttered under his breath.
You blinked, flustered. “I’m saying you don’t—”
Before you could finish, he stepped forward, closing the distance between you in one sharp, dizzying second. His hand came up to cup your jaw, and then his lips were on yours.
It wasn’t a perfect kiss. It was messy, rushed, a little breathless but it silenced every word you had left.
When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His voice was quiet, steady, but there was the faintest smile in it. “I’d like to start this relationship without mentioning the devil himself.”
You barely had time to respond before someone cleared their throat behind you.
Both of you turned.
Jungwon stood there awkwardly at the edge of the sidewalk, hair sticking up, his hoodie half-zipped. “Uh… I kind of need my house keys back,” he said, scratching the back of his head.
Ni-ki groaned. You covered your face.
Jungwon grinned. “So… I’m just gonna… pretend I didn’t hear what you said about me being…a…devil.”
He held out his hand expectantly. You shoved the keys at him without meeting his eyes.
“Thanks,” he said cheerfully. “And, uh… congratulations, I guess.”
He turned and started walking away, whistling under his breath.
Ni-ki sighed, looking back at you. “I really hate that guy.”
You laughed, still pink-faced. “No, you don’t.”
He smiled faintly. “Maybe not. But I like you a lot more.”
And before you could say anything else, he leaned in and kissed you again.
—
The movie flickered across the screen, half drowned by the sound of popcorn crunching. You were curled comfortably on Ni-ki’s lap, his arm around your waist while he fed you one kernel at a time. Sunoo sat right beside the two of you with a bowl of his own, pretending not to gag.
“This is disgusting,” he muttered, eyes still on the screen. “Get a room.”
Ni-ki smirked. “We have one. You’re in it.”
You leaned back against Ni-ki’s chest, hiding a smile as his hand absently brushed through your hair.
Then someone knocked on the door.
You perked up immediately and jumped off Ni-ki’s lap. “That must be Won!”
Ni-ki frowned. “Won?”
“Yeah, he’s the one getting us pizza, remember?”
“I think I’d remember if that little turd was coming over for dinner.”
You sighed, already walking to the door. “Ki, you said you’d be nice.”
“I am nice,” he said, pointing lazily at you. “To you. To Sunoo.”
Sunoo didn’t even look up. “You are not nice to me.”
Ni-ki smirked. “I gave you the last Pop-Tart.”
“That’s only because it was expired, you shithead.”
Ni-ki just shrugged.
You opened the door, and Jungwon stood there, smiling, pizza boxes stacked in his arms. “Delivery service at your command.”
Before you could even say thank you, he leaned in for a friendly hug. “Hey, you.”
Ni-ki was on his feet in an instant. He crossed the room, gently pulled you back, and glared over your shoulder. “Hello, Jungwon.”
Jungwon blinked. “Hey, man, I told you you can call me Won.”
“Yeah. Okay, Jungwon,” Ni-ki said, voice flat as he reclaimed his spot on the couch and pulled you right back into his lap like it was a territorial sport.
Sunoo rolled his eyes. “You two are exhausting.”
You giggled, settling back against Ni-ki’s chest. “He’s just being dramatic.”
You set the boxes down on the table while Jungwon started opening them. “I got you one without pineapple because I know you hate it.”
You lit up. “Yay, you remembered!”
“Of course,” Jungwon said, handing you a plate like an overachiever.
Ni-ki could practically hear the sound of his blood boiling. Of course he remembered. Of course he’d get the pizza right. He sat there, jaw tightening, watching you beam at Jungwon.
Sunoo glanced at Ni-ki from the corner of his eye, smirking. “You’re glaring again.”
“I’m not,” Ni-ki muttered.
“You are.”
“I’m watching the movie.”
“There’s nothing playing,” Sunoo said dryly.
Ni-ki glared harder. “Exactly.”
You turned back toward the couch, a slice in hand. “Ki, you want some?”
He tried to smile but it came out more like a grimace. “Yeah. Sure. The one with pineapple.”
Sunoo snorted. “You hate pineapple.”
“I love pineapple,” Ni-ki snapped, taking the slice from your hand as if to prove it.
Jungwon chuckled. “He doesn’t have to be jealous, you know. I just like taking care of my friends.”
Ni-ki froze mid-bite, coughing once. “I’m not jealous.”
“You sure, buddy?” Jungwon teased.
You rolled your eyes. “The both of you are being ridiculous.”
He opened his mouth to argue, but Jungwon beat him to it. “By the way, I saw your basketball game the other day,” Jungwon said casually. “Your last shot was insane. I got it all on camera.”
Ni-ki blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait. You recorded that?”
“Yeah,” Jungwon said, sitting down beside Sunoo. “I was near the bleachers. The lighting was trash, but you still looked cool.”
Ni-ki’s annoyance faltered for the first time all night. “You’re serious? I’ve been trying to find someone who got a video of that. Sunoo was supposed to record for me, but he was too busy taking selfies.”
Sunoo gasped. “Well, I’m sorry if the lighting was perfect, and I looked amazing.”
Ni-ki groaned. “You literally took fifty pictures of yourself and not one of the game.”
“Because it’s literally just guys in baggy clothes flinging balls around,” Sunoo shot back. “It’s a waste of time.”
Jungwon laughed. “Honestly, I’ve been thinking about doing commentary or recording for sports. I’m kind of obsessed with the technical side of it.”
Ni-ki perked up instantly. “Really? Would you like want to help me tape my next game?”
“Totally,” Jungwon said, grinning. “I could even help you analyze plays. You’ve got good form, but your footwork—”
Ni-ki’s eyes lit up. “Shit, you noticed that too? Everyone says I overthink it, but I swear my timing’s just off.”
You exchanged a glance with Sunoo, both of you watching as the tension between them evaporated in real time.
Jungwon nodded. “Exactly. You’re solid on defense though. I’ve got some notes from the footage if you want to see.”
Ni-ki leaned forward, suddenly animated. “Yeah, definitely. Send them to me. No one else actually knows what they’re talking about around here.”
“Gladly,” Jungwon said, beaming. “Maybe we can meet up before your next game.”
For a second, they just sat there, nodding like two nerds bonding over sports strategy.
You blinked. “Wait. Are you two being civil?”
Ni-ki waved you off, his eyes fixed on Jungwon like they’d just discovered fire. “Babe, hold on for a second. Did you happen to watch the regional game last weekend?”
Jungwon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, you mean the one where Heeseung snapped his knee?”
“Yeah, that one,” Ni-ki said, leaning forward. “I’ve been trying to figure out how that happened, but Sunoo—”
“Was taking selfies instead of watching,” Jungwon finished for him, nodding in solidarity.
Sunoo gasped from the other end of the couch. “Hey, I–”
Jungwon ignored him completely. “Dude, I actually have the full replay saved on my laptop.”
Ni-ki froze. “No way.”
“Way,” Jungwon said proudly. “I can literally run back to my dorm and grab it for you.”
Ni-ki was already standing. “I’ll drive.”
“What?” You looked between them, completely bewildered. “Hey, what about pizza night?”
Neither of them answered. Jungwon was already grabbing his jacket, and Ni-ki was checking his car keys like this was some kind of emergency mission.
Sunoo groaned. “Oh my god, they’re leaving us. For sports.”
Ni-ki turned at the door, grinning at you. “We’ll be right back, babe. Save me a slice.”
“You better come back before it gets cold,” you warned.
He winked, already halfway out the door. “You’re cute when you pretend you’ll eat without me.”
The door shut behind him, and the room fell into silence.
Sunoo crossed his arms, unimpressed. “They left just like that?”
You frowned, still staring at the door. “He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.”
Sunoo raised an eyebrow. “Aw. Tragic. Should we call the news? Should we invite Bella Hadid?”
You threw a popcorn kernel at him.
Just then, the door burst open again. Ni-ki jogged back inside, slightly out of breath, his hoodie slipping off one shoulder. Before you could say a word, he leaned down, cupped your cheek, and kissed you.
“I’ll be back so soon you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he said with that stupid little half-smile that always made you melt.
You blinked up at him, your voice soft. “Love you.”
He grinned, brushing his thumb over your jaw. “Love you more.”
Then he jogged back out the door again, calling out something to Jungwon about parking spaces.
Sunoo groaned, falling back on the couch. “Ugh. You two make me sick.”
You smiled dreamily, still staring at the door. “He came back.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sunoo muttered, grabbing a slice of pizza. “Just pretend I’m not here.”
“He came back to kiss me,” you said, still ignoring him.
Sunoo rolled his eyes. “Am I just invisible now?”
You sighed again, all soft and starry-eyed. “He came back just for me.”
Sunoo dropped his slice onto the box and stared at you in disbelief. “God, I hate love.”
You didn’t even hear him, your head was somewhere else entirely, replaying that tiny, perfect kiss like it was the last scene of your favorite movie.
Sunoo, meanwhile, took a huge bite of pizza and mumbled through it, “If he doesn’t come back with that laptop in thirty minutes, I’m eating his slice too.”
—
It was another lazy evening, the kind where time didn’t seem to exist. You and Ni-ki were cooped up in his room, tangled together on his bed, half-watching a movie before it devolved into you kissing instead of actually paying attention.
You were mid-makeout when a noise outside made you freeze. A shuffle, a thump, something that didn’t sound like the wind.
You pulled back, whispering, “Wait, did you hear that?”
Ni-ki groaned softly. “Probably Sunoo.”
You frowned. “Sunoo told us he was out with his friends tonight.”
That made him pause. His expression changed instantly, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He reached for the nearest object—his basketball.
You blinked at him. “How’s a ball gonna help us?”
He shrugged, voice serious. “I’ll throw it at him.”
You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Hey, it’s a solid plan,” he whispered, hugging the ball.
The two of you crept to the living room, your steps quiet. You half expected to see some masked burglar, but when Ni-ki swung the door open, he stopped shortly.
It was Jungwon, holding a soda and looking very alive.
“Dude,” Jungwon said, looking offended. “You said you’d watch the game with me tonight.”
Ni-ki blinked, the ball still in his hand. “Oh, shit. I forgot. Right. Yeah. I’ll watch it with you.”
You crossed your arms. “Funny, because you said you were going to watch a movie with me tonight.”
Ni-ki froze. Jungwon blinked. And suddenly Ni-ki was caught in the middle, turning his head left and right like he was watching a tennis match.
“Uhhh…” he started.
“UHHH?!” you repeated, incredulous. “You’re having a difficult time choosing between some idiot and your girlfriend?”
“Hey, I’m not an idiot!” Jungwon protested, pointing at himself.
You glared at both of them, then huffed, storming back into Ni-ki’s room and slamming the door behind you.
Out in the hall, Jungwon looked at Ni-ki and laughed. “We can always watch it next time. I know how she is when she’s mad.”
Ni-ki narrowed his eyes. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Oh right,” Jungwon said with a smirk, “I forgot you were jealous of me once.”
Ni-ki scoffed. “Oh, fuck you,” he muttered, tossing the basketball aside before heading back into the room.
You were on his bed, scrolling through TikTok like the definition of indifference. Ni-ki sighed, climbing on top of you gently, careful not to put his full weight down.
“Baby,” he murmured, trying to kiss you.
You moved your phone in front of your face, blocking him.
“Really?” he asked, reaching for it. You held on tighter.
“Don’t you dare throw my phone—”
He snatched it anyway and tossed it lightly onto the pillow beside you.
You gasped. “You menace!”
Ni-ki grinned. “Worth it.”
You tried to wriggle away, but he caught your wrists, laughing as the two of you wrestled across the bed, him trying to kiss you while you stubbornly turned your head.
“Why aren’t you with Jungwon?” you teased, still half-pouting.
“Because I’d rather be with you,” he said, voice soft against your ear.
“Oh really?”
“Really.”
“OH REALLY?” you said louder, pretending to glare.
He laughed. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
You grinned. “As you should be. I’m way funnier than Jungwon.”
He nodded immediately. “You are.”
“I’m prettier.”
Another nod, his smile widening. “You are.”
“I’m way cuter.”
He hesitated for a beat, eyes glinting with mischief. “Uh… debatable.”
You gasped dramatically. “God, you hate me.”
He laughed, leaning down until your noses brushed. “I’m just kidding.”
You smiled, finally giving in and kissing him again. His hand cupped your jaw, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin like he couldn’t get enough of touching you. When you pulled away, still smiling, you whispered, “You know, I kinda miss when you hated Jungwon.”
Ni-ki raised an eyebrow. “Do you now?”
“Yeah,” you said, grinning. “You were kinda hot when you had that whole jealousy and hatred in your eyes thing going on.”
He snorted. “He’s literally your best friend.”
“Well, he’s also a boyfriend stealer. And I don’t treat those kindly.”
Ni-ki laughed, low and warm. “Come on, Jungwon’s not that bad. I like him now.”
You groaned dramatically, burying your face in his chest. “Damn it. This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”
He chuckled, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You’re ridiculous.”
You tilted your head up, smiling softly. “But you love me?”
He pretended to think. “I love Jungwon.”
You gasped, sitting up. “You’re going to hell for that.”
He caught your wrist before you could smack him, laughing. “I’m kidding.” He tugged you back into his arms and kissed you again, his smile lingering against your lips.
“I love you,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “More than you’ll ever know.”
You looked at him for a long second, your chest warm, your heart full, before whispering, “Good.”
Hiiii i just read ur riki fic on the need for structure n it was soooo good 🙂↕️if you are up for it do you think u can write a headcannon on riki n the reader like what kind of boyfriend he is, things they do in their day to day lives and cute things or hm for things riki does???
— the need for structure, nishimura riki: foundations + framework
the need for structure headcannons!!
author's note to anon: omg this is insane considering that i’ve never done headcannons or anything additional for a fic before but this was such a fireee idea THANK YOU and i’m glad you enjoyed my babies. omg let’s hold each other’s hands and revisit together omg i’m literally smiling so hard rn. i thoroughly enjoyed this and i think ima do this more often!!
to fully understand the context, you should read the full fic. i swear you'll like it. i honestly don't think this can be read as a standalone.
cw. toothaching fluff, tnfs universe ig?, implied smut and mentions of sex MINORS DNI regardless!! and yeah idk i don't think there's anything else this is all very happy. but ofc lmk if i missed anything!
✰ you spend most of your time there anyway, i honestly see you moving into riki’s house after about a year or so. since you’re 21 and that’s about your third year of college (in the US, typically), i think for your last year—you just move in.
✰ riki would be the one to ask (obvi). i see you guys sitting on the couch—most likely eating some cookies he baked from scratch and he’d just be all dramatic and would pull out all the stops.
the night is young, the fireplace is crackling and the christmas tree lights are dancing and obnoxiously bright but that’s what it’s all about, really. you two are sitting on the floor with a humongous plate of cookies for you and some for blue that he made on another plate for our favorite boy.
“ok so, as you know christmas is coming up.” riki smiled brightly, the hues of orange from the fire reflecting in the corner of his frames. you laugh, looking down at your matching pajamas and up at the nine foot tall tree. “that’s crazy, dude. i never noticed.”
he dunked a part of his cookie into his tall glass of almond milk—he couldn’t drink cow’s milk and you’ve slowly been indoctrinated. “i know, the world just stopped when you came into my life.” he reached up to feed you as you could hardly open your mouth from smiling. but he kept talking. “ok so, i don’t expect you to get me anything because i seriously don’t want anything. but there is one thing that isn’t necessarily material that i think that i could persuade you on.”
you furrowed your brows, as you leaned back onto your hands. and with a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie did you nod and say, “okay. persuade me.”
he laughed breathily as he adjusted his glasses, excitedly getting up to put the wipe his hands and put the tray cookies and milk on the coffee table. “okay, okay. i’ll be right back.” then he scurries upstairs into his office.
blue walked over, and right into your lap as you greeted him. as if he wanted a front row seat to this as well. and in great timing, riki came back with his laptop and a plexiglass podium he bought during one of his “i work best standing” phases.
you blinked. “be so for real.”
“i am for real,” he said, already setting the podium down beside the fireplace with the confidence of a man about to present quarterly earnings to a boardroom that only consists of you and a golden retriever.
blue sat up very straight, panting proudly like he was absolutely part of this board.
riki opened his laptop, clicked something, and suddenly a slideshow lit up the living room tv in big, obnoxious helvetica letters:
“case study: why you should move in with me (q4 proposal)”
you choked on your cookie.
he adjusted his glasses dramatically. “thank you for your attention. tonight, i will be presenting a brief but life-changing proposal.”
“riki. no.”
“shh,” he whispered, holding up one finger. “let me cook. as the kids say.”
blue barked once, which riki interpreted as applause.
slide two: a pie chart titled ‘how often you’re already here.’ the chart was basically…entirely one color.
“here you will see your current sleepover frequency,” he narrated, laser pointer in hand (where did he get a laser pointer). “according to my data, you live here. you just haven’t signed the papers.”
slide three: a bar graph titled ‘benefits of moving in.’ the bars included:
stability
even more sex (yay!)
no more lugging a duffel back and forth
BLUE
unlimited desserts baked by a man in love
economical: you don’t have to keep paying rent for an apartment you barely stay in.
you laughed so hard your side hurt. “is this real life?”
“unfortunately,” he said. “i rehearsed this.”
slide four: a floor plan. a scan of a hand-drawn plan for one of the bedrooms upstairs.
“here, i have a room plan designed just for you with everything that should already meet your needs.” a vanity, a king sized bed, a desk. a walk-in closet. “this way, you’re not sacrificing your own space or autonomy. you don’t have to share a room with me if you so choose.” he gestured to the slide shyly, almost nervous. “i just want you to have a space that’s yours…in my home.”
“riki…” you whispered, your voice catching because—damn it—he really thought of everything. he clicked to the final slide.
a simple one:
“proposal: move in?” underneath it: “i’ll even make space for your 63 hair products.”
you covered your face with both hands. nearly bursting at the seams but trying to refrain from tears.
he closed the laptop gently, setting it aside before sitting beside you on the rug. the fire crackled behind him, christmas lights glowing around you like a movie set.
“i’m not asking you to rush,” he murmured, brushing a crumb from your cheek with his thumb. “i just…want our life to start for real. the day-to-day. waking up with you. arguing over the thermostat. fighting blue for space in the bed. having you here with me, not thirty minutes away.”
you swallowed, blinking way too fast.
“you don’t have to say yes tonight,” he added softly. “just…think about it.”
you slid your hand into his slowly, squeezing it. “babe?”
he hummed, eyes bright behind his glasses.
“i don’t need to think about it.”
✰ AND KABOOM that’s how it starts.
✰ as for your day-to-day: nothing’s changed except for the fact that you have a new address now. you still have clothes there—except all of them are there now.
✰ what moves you is the little things. changing your address on everything: your bank, college, your ID, etc.
✰ when the new ID comes in the mail and you show him, he stares at the address for like seven full seconds. then he whispers, “you live with me.” and you have to physically hit him with a pillow because he gets too emotional and it makes YOU emotional.
✰ speaking of that, he’s a crier. and we know that. he starts to make you a crier too. you find yourself getting teary-eyed when you see photos of the two of you from the beginning of your relationship. the six month anniversary, the one year. random dates. and even souvenirs from dates that he keeps in a scrapbook on the coffee table. it’s replaced the old architecture book.
✰ you call him “landlord” now and he hates it. he doesn’t answer you unless you call him literally anything else.
✰ you don’t contribute financially at all, something that riki made abundantly clear that he didn’t want you to do and never will ask you to do. but he’s the only man you’ve lived with besides your father and the idea of being fully dependent on him scared the life out of you.
✰ but of course, riki never falls through on his word. he made you set up a savings account that he deposits money to very frequently. this way, in case you do want to leave—you have more than enough to do so. not that you’d ever need it. but he just wants you to have peace of mind.
✰ you learn a lot—and i mean a lot—about finance because of him. but not in like a patronizing “finance bro” type of way. but in a very calm, informative way.
✰ he teaches you how to budget, how to save, how to build credit, how to negotiate your pay at work, how to not get scammed by subscriptions, how to avoid predatory loans.
✰ once a month you have “finance dates,” which sounds dry as hell but ends up being you in his lap, eating snacks, while he explains things to you like you’re a medieval peasant seeing fire for the first time.
✰ sex is the same. phenomenal and mindblowing. but something is so much more electric about it knowing that you both don’t have anywhere else to be in some way.
✰ you give him morning head. like i’m talking to the sloppiest, wettest, toe-curling head that man has ever gotten and shit, he deserves it! he lays there all sleep-hoarse and warm, one hand in your hair, whispering your name like he’s trying not to wake the whole neighborhood.
✰ he always starts off quiet—those little breathy whines, the “babe…babe…holy shit…” slipping out before he’s even fully awake. then he remembers he’s a man made of nothing but love and drama, so suddenly he’s grabbing the sheets like they wronged him personally.
✰ he thanks you every single time. every. single. time.
✰ he returns the favor, too. you wake up some mornings to his head between your thighs like he’s clocked in for a shift. your first conscious thought is usually, “oh my god,” followed by, “riki, you have work.”
✰ he does not care. “i’m ahead of schedule.”
✰ sex gets slower sometimes, softer, deeper—especially at night. the kind where he’s kissing your shoulder, your jaw, the back of your hand like he did the first time.
✰ and sometimes? it’s messy and chaotic and you two are laughing mid-makeout because blue jumps on the bed and tries to bring you his toy like you’re in the middle of playtime. you kick him out gently. he cries at the door. riki feels guilty. you have to literally drag him back into focusing.
✰ “baby, ignore him.” “but his feelings—” “RIKI.”
✰ he apologizes to the dog afterward. (you don’t. but you see his eyes and feel bad so you spend the entire next day with him.)
✰ your dynamic does change now that you’re together all the time.
✰ riki becomes a hoverer. not in a suffocating way—in a “he wants to be in your orbit at all times” way. if you’re in the kitchen, he drifts in there. if you’re in the shower, he sits on the counter talking to you.
✰ your love becomes more like…casually intimate. the little stuff becomes everything: back hugs while you brush your teeth, his shirt riding up when he stretches in the morning, your legs over his while you watch tv, him playing with your fingers absentmindedly.
✰ arguments change too—they’re softer. you can’t storm out dramatically and hide in another room like before. well, you can, but he will absolutely knock on the door with a pathetic little, “baby…can we not fight? i hate fighting with you.” and you’re like ugh fine.
✰ the sexual tension is CONSTANT. like you brush past each other in the hallway and suddenly you’re making out like teenagers at a bus stop. you bend over to get something out of a drawer and he has to physically walk away for a second. you sit on his lap during a movie and he doesn’t even care what johnny depp is up to anymore.
✰ communication gets easier because you can’t hide from each other anymore. if something’s off, he notices immediately. like if you sigh weirdly he’s already turning the stove off like, “talk to me. what happened. who do i need to put my hands on.”
✰ you two also adopt this stupid routine where you debrief EVERYTHING. this man is your best friend. you go to the grocery store alone for 20 minutes and come back like, “girl, guess who the fuck i saw in the dairy aisle.” and he sits down like it’s breaking news.
✰ the comfort level gets insane. you’re brushing your teeth while he uses the bathroom. he’s plucking your eyebrows with terrifying precision. you’re shaving his neck for him. he’s massaging lotion into your legs. it’s love in its most stupid, honest form.
✰ just random times when you two just end up having sex. like he’ll be helping you take off your heels and he’ll just throw your leg over his shoulder. or he’ll be in his office and you’re walking by on your way to the kitchen and those glasses will be perched on his nose just right and next thing you know…LMFAOO
✰ and the biggest change of all? the silence between you becomes its own kind of affection. you can exist in the same room, doing two totally different things, and still feel like you’re together. every now and then someone puts out a “you good?” but it’s so nice to know that you can be in silence with him and don’t necessarily need to fill the room with conversation just for no reason.
✰ and really…the biggest thing is that nothing about your love feels temporary anymore. no countdown to when someone has to go home, no “text me when you get back,” no backpacks by the door, no half-packed overnight bags.
✰ it’s just you and him. your toothbrush next to his. your shoes by the entryway. your laughter echoing through the same rooms. your clothes mixed in with his laundry. blue sleeping at your feet like this is how life was always supposed to look.
✰ nothing’s perfect, but it feels like it. you can’t get enough of each other and you wonder if this is how it’ll be for the rest of your lives.
✰ and every night before he falls asleep, riki pulls you closer, kisses your shoulder, and whispers the same thing he whispered the first night you slept in his bed: “so grateful it’s me.”
✰ not “i’m lucky,” not “i’m happy,” not “i love you”—though he says all of those a hundred times a day—but grateful. grateful that you chose him. grateful that you stayed despite trying your hardest to push him away. grateful that life twisted just right and brought you to that fuckass sugar dating app.
✰ you turn toward him, tucking your forehead against his, and whisper it back because you mean it just as much. “i love you, papa bear.”
✰ then he smiles—that sleepy, lopsided smile that only appears when he feels safe—and it settles over the room like a blanket. two heartbeats syncing. two lives folding into each other. two people choosing love, again and again, in the quietest hours of the night.
✰ no longer was he the overcompensating, insecure, man with so much love to give. in some ways, you healed parts of him that he didn’t even know needed fixing. you were the same: your hatred and distrust of men—the fear that had carved itself into you over years—didn’t vanish overnight, but with him? it softened. slowly and gently. like thawing snow in spring.
✰ you never told him this outright, but sometimes, when his arms were wrapped around you and his breathing synced with yours, you felt something you had never felt with a man before: safe.
✰ and he noticed. every time your shoulders relaxed. every time your voice softened. every time you reached for him first instead of waiting for him to come to you.
✰ one night, when the lights were low and the silence tasted sweet, he whispered into your hair, “thank you for trusting me.”
✰ you could’ve cried. not out of sadness—but out of the quiet, overwhelming realization that trust didn’t come easy for you. and yet here you were, tucked into his arms, letting someone love you without fighting the softness of it.
✰ he pressed a kiss to your jaw, slow and reverent, and said, like a confession, “i never want to be the reason you’re afraid.”
✰ and you knew—in your bones, in your breath, in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back—that he never would be.
pairing: college basketball star! nishimura riki x reader
wc. 39.4k words YIKESSS longest fic i’ve written
cw. mutual pining, enemies to lovers to exes to lovers, rom-com-drama, a very charming riki, revenge plot (psychological sabotage, gaslighting, verbal degradation, mild obsession, public humiliation attempt, confrontations, manipulation of personal belongings, emotional manipulation), crying, accidental injury (basketball hit to face), sexual innuendo/locker-room misogyny, intense argument, swearing, another attempt of humor, banter, yearning ofc bc is it me if i didn't have the male lead down catastrophically?, morally grey characters and complex relationships, food and eating mention, college au (obvi)
synopsis: you never cared for athletes. but campus golden boy—riki nishimura—made ignoring him impossible. what begins as petty annoyance spirals into banter, tension, and a chemistry you can't help but acknowledge. until one overheard comment turns everything sour, sending you down a path of revenge, sabotage, and a clusterfuck of feelings you can't outrun anymore. and somewhere between revenge and regret, you and riki have to figure out whether you’re destined to destroy each other…or fall in love instead.
author's note: hi everyone!! literally everytime i'm about to post a fic i get extremely nervous bc i never know how it's going to be received. but please, have a little lenience. as some of you may know, i underwent an insane writer's block and do have frequent depressive episodes. this is me slowly but surely trying to get myself back together and trying new things. this is relatively rougher than my others and i'm not so confident in it but i love you guys regardless and how you've been supporting me. i will always say i am forever indebted and blessed to have such nice people on my blog!! so here's riki nishimura must die.
lightly based on but heavily inspired by: john tucker must die (2006)
disclaimer: i do not condone half of the shit happening in this fic. as you know, i always promote positive and safe relationship dynamics in my work but again, trying something new. reader's discretion is advised.
You didn’t understand sports.
For the life of you, you couldn’t wrap your brain around the hype that went into it. The screaming, the ragebaiting, the rioting, the gambling. None of it made sense to you. You’ve seen the animals it turns people into and it makes you not even want anything to do with that type of crowd. Though, you do respect athletes. The time, hard work, and discipline it takes to be that good at something is so profound and honestly, you can’t help but applaud. However, there was someone—rather, something—that respected athletes more than you. That was Decelis University. Your school, your university as a matter of fact.
Nationally ranked, Division I, Decelis University ran alongside heavy hitters in the college sports scene alongside schools such as UConn, Purdue, St. John’s, Florida, Duke, the like. Decelis didn’t just respect athletes, they built shrines for them. Kissed the ground they walked on and worshipped them like some sorts of heavenly figures. Nothing was bigger than sports. Not finals week, not homecoming, not even free weekly food trucks on the quad. Game nights shut the whole campus down—professors excused absences, the bookstore stocked special merch, and students camped outside the arena like it was Coachella. And at the center of it all was Mr. Riki Nishimura.
Six-foot nothing-but-trouble, starting point guard, baby-faced assassin with a highlight reel that ESPN couldn’t stop drooling over. The kind of guy who could miss class for two weeks straight and still have professors grinning at him when he finally walked in. Though his frame didn’t scream trouble, his game said otherwise. His playing style was all crossovers and footwork, the kind that had commentators whispering words like Kyrie Irving and generational talent. He didn’t just play basketball. He performed it.
If Riki were a heavenly figure, he’d be Christ.
To you, he was just a regular human being. Why exalt someone that did nothing to benefit you personally? Did he cure world hunger? Leak the cure for cancer—because you could promise one exists. Build homes for displaced families? Relieve students of crippling debt? Anything? The answer is no. So why? Why? Why do athletes make more than doctors? Teachers? Why do people that save the world and make positive contributions to society not get even a sixteenth of the recognition of those that run up and down a court or field for a living? That, you couldn’t find the answer to.
But besides that, Riki was everywhere. It was freaky, seeing his face plastered in various campaigns beside other college athletes. You couldn’t even walk into the dining hall without Riki’s face smirking at you from a Gatorade cutout. He was on billboards, a few campus shuttles, hell—probably someone’s phone wallpaper. You could almost see his New Balance campaign now, how many times you came across it. And the stupid slogan, hearing him say: “Nishimura. New Game. New Balance.”
Okay, while the line was kind of clean—it was just him that pissed you off.
And it was insane because you never even met this guy to judge him. While you were in proximity to him, your best friends being cheerleaders and sharing the terrifyingly large court with them—you really had nothing bad to say about his character. For all you knew, Riki could be an amazing guy with an even more amazing personality. But you never knew him, never spoke to him, never even locked eyes with this guy if it weren’t via an obnoxious billboard. You’d never seen this man play. Every time you stumbled on a highlight, you swiped away. He didn’t do shit to you, you simply hated the hype around athletes. Around sports in general.
Even in basketball, it was all so negative. All the commentators and fans did was discuss the past. ‘Jordan this. LeBron that.’ And if not that, they’d find some way to bash a player they claim to love. If you love this player so much, why say they’re washed up? At least you could respect football fans—they were delusional behind their teams.
Still, you didn’t hate Riki. Didn’t even dislike him.
Not until today.
—
Like most days, you sat in the Decelis Arena. Right on one of the bleachers in the student section. Your best friends, Yasmin and Bella, were cheerleaders and shared the arena with the basketball team most weekdays. So you hung out there, got some work done as you watched your girls from their side of the floor. The coach never said anything, it was an open practice as far as you were concerned. Plus you never gave them any issues. Never distracted, just stayed quiet and typed on your laptop—it was great. You got to be around your girls and be productive. The only downside was looking to the left and seeing the men’s basketball team.
But it wasn’t so bad to hear them get degraded while they were conditioning and running drills. The sound carried in the arena—sneakers squeaking, basketballs smacking the hardwood, coaches barking like drill sergeants. On the other end, your girls were bright and polished, high ponytails bouncing in perfect sync.
You sat tucked on the bleachers, typing away, invisible. As their practice came to an end, the men kept going. But Yasmin and Bella walked up to you and you felt them before you heard them. Thus, you closed your laptop as you peered up at them with a bright smile.
“You guys look dazzling as ever,” you teased, though Yasmin’s mascara was halfway down her cheek and Bella looked one toe cramp away from retirement. They stopped in front of you, grinning but panting in exhaustion as they simultaneously wiped sweat off their foreheads. “Dude,” Bella huffed as she plopped next to you. “I can’t do—” Yasmin pointed at her fiercely. “I don’t wanna hear that shit, Bells. I told you. ‘Can’t’ isn’t—” “In our vocabulary,” you and Bella chorused, laughing at the girl’s optimism.
Yasmin Alamilla was one of the kindest, most supportive women you’ve had the pleasure of meeting. Always cheery (no pun intended), wise, and to be honest, at times her optimism when you were feeling low was almost annoying. Because how can one person just be so happy all of the time? But you loved her from the moment you met her and wouldn’t trade her for the world.
Bella Powell was the opposite. Sharp-tongued, dramatic, and stubborn in a way that could make you want to strangle her one second and hug her the next. She complained more than anyone you knew, but she was also the first to show up at your door with fries and milkshakes when you weren’t feeling it. Loyal to the bone—even if she’d never admit it out loud.
“Yeah, yeah whatever,” Yasmin rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’ll be thanking me later.” She leaned her head back as she sipped from her purple water bottle. Bella groaned as she helped you pack your stuff, holding your backpack open as she looked at the girl still standing. “I will thank you, just right now my body’s not thanking me.”
“Did you stretch beforehand?” you asked. The answer was no. But before she could admit it, a freshly pumped basketball came beaming across the court. It wasn’t a throw; it was a bullet. A missile. Before anyone could yell “Heads!” or even “Duck!” it was already too late. The ball cracked against the side of your face, cheek first, the sting blooming hot and instant. The sound was sickening, a hollow thwack that echoed louder in your head than in the gym.
Your vision tilted for a split second, your cheekbone pulsing like it might’ve cracked under the pressure. The ball ricocheted to the floor, rolling harmlessly now, but your cheek burned like fire. Yasmin’s gasp came first, Bella’s curse second. Your pencil pouch slipped from your hands, pens scattering. The feeling was akin to when you’re taking something out of the toaster oven and you accidentally touch the hot rack—only this time the burn wasn’t a split second. It felt everlasting.
As shock rang through the arena, you could hear a pin drop. And that wasn’t even the most embarrassing part—it was the collective “Ooh…” from the people around you. “Yo—” a voice cut through the chaos, low and sharp. Sneakers squeaked across the court as Riki jogged over, sweat still glistening down his temple. He scooped the ball up in one fluid motion, spinning it on his finger before tucking it under his arm like he hadn’t just nearly concussed you.
“You good?” His eyes flicked to your face—quick, but not quick enough to hide the way he lingered on your cheek. “I’m fine,” you lied through gritted teeth, pressing your palm against the sting. “Doesn’t look fine.” He crouched slightly to your level, smirk tugging at his lips even though his brows pinched with something closer to guilt. “Bet you’ll have the Wilson logo on your face for the next hour.” Bella shot him a glare. “Not funny, Riki.”
Riki turned his head to Bella, amused, then looked back at you—smirk faltering as his gaze locked on you again. “Seriously, though. You want ice?” Maybe you were just reading into things. And as someone who tended to take up the observer role, you truly felt in your heart of hearts that this guy was the asshole you thought he was. To make a joke out of your pain—and no one’s saying he had to call the national guard—but to spin the ball like he was putting on a show? Rage bloomed hot in your stomach.
“I’ll get my own,” you muttered. Riki’s smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth, that same infuriating confidence he always carried. “Next time,” he said, tossing the ball up and catching it effortlessly, “don’t sit so close.” And just like that, he pivoted, jogging back to drills, sneakers squeaking against the hardwood, leaving you to gather your pens and seething pride. You pressed your palm harder against your cheek, the sting sharp, and glared after him. Unbelievable.
The girls bent down to pick up your scattered pens and highlighters. Bella scoffed, “He’s such a dick sometimes. I’m so sorry, babes.” Yasmin frowned, brows creasing in worry. “That ball hit you something serious.” She handed you your fully stocked pouch. Tears brimmed your eyes. “I’m solid, this shit just hurts—Ow.” You hissed, leaning forward. “Here. Take this.” Yasmin rushed to grab Bella’s frozen water bottle and gently rubbed your back.
Yasmin gave you a soft, sympathetic look. “You really should’ve sat farther back. That kid’s got rockets for hands.”
You groaned, wincing as the sting radiated through your jaw. “Yeah, thanks for the tip,” you muttered under your breath, still glaring toward the court. Sure enough, Riki was back at it, running drills, tossing the ball between his teammates with that infuriating ease, smirking every time someone fumbled a pass.
“Ugh,” Bella muttered, nudging you. “You hate him already, don’t you?”
You didn’t answer immediately, your fingers tightening around the strap of your backpack. Hate was a strong word. But there was no denying the wrath that had just been lit inside you. Something about the way he’d spun that ball, flashed that smirk, and then walked away like none of it mattered…it was aggravating.
But you stood, your hand still glued to your cheek as you grabbed your bag. “I don’t hate. I detest. I resent. And I hold grudges because I’m childish.” You grit out, luckily the bottle gave you some relief.
And as the two of you walked out of the arena, you moved the bottle from your face for the first time, the air hitting the stinging sensation and making you wince. “Does one side of my face look fatter than the other?” You stopped midway on the sidelines to give them space to inspect you.
Bella squinted dramatically, tilting your chin this way and that like she was about to submit you to America’s Next Top Model. “Hmm. Honestly? You look like you just lost a round to Mike Tyson.”
“Bella!” Yasmin swatted her arm, glaring before softening as she leaned in. “It’s not that bad. A little rough, but the swelling isn’t obvious yet. Ice will help.”
“Yet?” you groaned, pressing the bottle back to your cheek like it was a lifeline. “Oh, fantastic. So tomorrow I’m gonna look like Quasimodo.”
Bella snorted, looping her arm through yours as you all started walking again. “A little bit, but at least you can brag that the Riki Nishimura was in your face and ice was involved.”
“Shut the hell up,” you laughed.
Yasmin shook her head, trying not to smile. “You’re impossible, Bella.”
“Impossible but not wrong,” Bella sing-songed, squeezing your arm. “Half the girls on campus would kill to have him that close, even if it meant getting smacked with a ball.”
Yasmin smiled, “yeah but those aren’t the balls they wanna be smacked with.”
You pointed to her with a dry look. “That’s disgusting.”
—
Next week
—
You returned to their practice despite debating even coming back to this place ever again. But this time you took the Head Huncho’s advice and did in fact sit a little higher up on the bleachers. The girls were getting changed and in the meantime, you got set up on the bleachers. Typical stuff. Laptop, cola, and your person—you.
The arena was relatively silent as it was just you and the sound of you unzipping and settling into the spot you were gonna be occupying for the next hour or so. So you got to typing, chipping away at the Philosophy essay you had due in a week.
You heard footsteps coming your way and just assumed it was Yasmin—no one seemed to be as light on their feet as her.
“Forgot your water again?” you called without looking up, fingers still flying across your keyboard.
Except…no answer. Just the scrape of sneakers against the bleachers and a low chuckle that definitely didn’t belong to Yasmin.
Your head snapped up, and there he was—Riki Nishimura himself—standing two steps below you, spinning a basketball against his palm like he was born with it.
“Bold of you,” he said, smirk firmly in place, “to sit in the line of fire again. Thought you learned your lesson last week.”
You narrowed your eyes, instinctively bringing a hand to your cheek even though the swelling was long gone. You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Your jaw clicked as you turned back to your computer.
He didn’t stop though, he just got closer. “How’s your face? I got you good didn’t I?”
“Fine,” you said robotically.
“Really?” He tilted his head, not seeming convinced.
“Really.”
“Hm…” He nodded, the same smirk planted on his face. “Did you sleep on your right side for a few days?” He tested, letting his words hang with a teasing undertone.
You sucked in a breath, fingers hovering uselessly over the keyboard as you turned to glare at him. “Do you go around asking random girls about their sleeping positions, or am I just lucky?”
Riki’s grin widened, infuriatingly boyish. “You’re funny.” He let out a small laugh, taping his fingers mindlessly—like this was second nature. Because it was.
“You really are as insufferable as they say.”
“And you,” he said, pointing the ball at you like a teacher with a chalk stick, “sit through two hours of sweaty practices when you probably don’t even like basketball. Which, respectfully, makes you insufferable.”
Your face was plagued with repulsion. “I’m here because my friends are cheerleaders. I’m here for them. There’s people whose world doesn’t revolve around you, you know?” You scoff. “Fuck off, seriously.” Going back to your laptop, you angrily type. Your keyboard one more click away from not having a letter F.
“Yes…Bella and Yasmin.” He hums as he points at you with a knowing look. “I like them. Both very beautiful girls.”
You ignored him because he hadn’t said anything untrue. But in any case, he needed to tread lightly when mentioning your friends.
“They are,” you said flatly, eyes glued to your screen.
Riki tilted his head, smirk tugging wider as if he’d caught a flicker of irritation in your tone. “Relax. I wasn’t hitting on them.” He spun the ball in his hands, the squeak of rubber filling the silence before he added, “Not my type.”
You arched a brow, finally glancing at him. “Oh, so you have a type?”
His grin was infuriating. “Don’t we all?”
“Careful,” you sing song. “New Balance wouldn’t want to know you’re out here objectifying women instead of selling sneakers.”
He huffed out a laugh, “cute, cute. You’re very cute.” Riki bounced the ball between his legs haphazardly, lifting a leg cavalierly as he looked at you. “You know, I really like girls like you. Girls that don’t like me. Turns me on.”
“Oh my gosh, I never told you. But I write my name with yours in my notebook every single night before I go to sleep. I’m in love with you.” You deadpanned, saying this with no inflection whatsoever.
For a second he actually froze, like you’d handed him an unexpected plot twist. Then the grin came back—slow, smug, all teeth. He bounced the ball twice before holding it steady in his hands. “Is that right? Interesting bedtime ritual.”
You felt your stomach do a stupid little flip and immediately hated it.
“You know what?” he continued, like he was considering the absolute worst and most entertaining idea. “I like a challenge.”
You raised a brow. “Do you now?”
“I do.” He tapped the ball once, twice. “Let’s see how long it takes me to make you say that without the sarcasm.”
“I’d sooner die.”
“That’s the only thing that keeps me going.” He moves back. “Keep that pretty face safe for me.” He waves, batting his eyes as he jogs to the other side of the court. Dribbling the ball and swiftly passing it to one of his teammates, laughing with them as they overhear his teasing.
And still, that seething rage in your stomach hasn’t left in over a week.
It still persists. Even more so now.
—
Later that day
—
It was a nice, peachy evening. Clouds akin to cotton candy and the sun a cute lollipop in the sky. Bella and Yasmin were headed back to their dorms to get ready for bed. If they valued anything it was their beauty sleep. Which…real.
You, however, couldn’t enjoy your night. No. Not even in the slightest. In just twenty short minutes, you had a class. Never did you think you’d be one of the people taking an evening class, but your registration slot was less than favorable.
But some good music and walking off your heavy dinner was enough to keep your mood up. You zipped your hoodie up tighter as the evening breeze picked up, tugging at stray strands of hair that had escaped your ponytail. The sidewalks were practically empty, the campus bathed in that soft, peach-and-lollipop light that made everything look harmless. But you weren’t harmless. Not tonight. Not when every memory of Riki Nishimura—grinning, teasing, infuriating—was still pressed into your brain like a damn watermark.
You hated that he was everywhere. Again, in the dining hall right on the fountains—his jersey number—three—next to a Gatorade logo. Now, as you’re walking—a shuttle passes.
He was unavoidable, his every being plagued your existence and before it was used to just be a ‘whatever, this is just annoying’ kind of way. But because he seemed to know you now, and target you in some way—it escalated from annoyance to near disdain.
But of course, it seemed like you couldn’t think about him without it costing you.
He smoothly stepped right in front of you—a smile as bright as the sun—cutting you off in your path. “Hey girl,” It honestly seemed like he came from nowhere and you stopped short, bumping right into his chest.
He smelled like fresh laundry and faint cologne, the kind that lingered just enough. Worse, his chest was warm, solid—completely unfair. Head to toe in the signature New Balance sweats—grey—with the popular 530s to match. Very typical of him.
You looked up at him, and this was the first time you’d seen him really up close. Upright that is. He wasn’t as small as the camera, or as huge as the cutout—or even his ego—made him seem. Granted, he was tall. Standing a solid six foot one. Beside his teammates, he was shorter. Which made sense, you didn’t need to be extremely tall to be a point guard—you knew that much.
He carried the duality of a superstar and a regular guy all at once. Nothing about him was special yet, every last thing about him is. But you didn’t dare fix your lips to say anything remotely positive about him.
You pursed your lips and sighed in defeat, not even having the energy for this at the moment—you quietly brushed past him without another word. But you didn’t make it very far, he was much faster than you ever were.
“Ooh, not so fast, mama.” He quickly stepped in front of you, holding his hands up in defense as you bumped into him again.
So in response, you stepped to the left.
He also stepped to the left.
You stepped to the right.
He also stepped to your right.
You tapped your foot in frustration, nostrils flaring as you glared at him. Eyes narrowing when you saw the feign of ennui on his face. “I’m very good at this game…” He frowned, sighing as he waited for you to break.
You lifted your non-dominant hand and checked your watch. You had less than fifteen minutes to get to your class and you didn’t have time to waste. With a groan, you looked back at him. “What the fuck do you want?”
The smile he greeted you with reappeared as he clasped his hands together. “Okay so…I wanted to apologize.”
“Apology accepted,” you nodded curtly as you brushed past him once more. He still reminded you that he wasn’t letting you go just yet. You sped walked in the direction of your class and he followed closely beside—his long legs eating up the space between you without another breath.
“Wait, I’m not done.” He matched your pace as he looked down at you. “Just let me get my shit off then I’ll leave you alone forever.”
“Why do I feel like I’m not the only girl that’s heard that before?” You peered up at him with a sarcastic smile.
Riki nodded slowly, accepting the jab. “Okay. Well, I just wanted to say I was sorry for being so rude to you. I should’ve been more careful—while my pass wasn’t terrible, my teammate didn’t catch it and it just happened to hit you—”
“Why’re you blaming others in the midst of your own apology?” You scoffed as you turned a corner to go to the lecture hall.
Before he could open his mouth, someone from afar shouted his name out. “Hey Riki!”
You instinctively turned your head the opposite direction. Not because you thought people would give a fuck—they most likely wouldn’t. It just seemed to be reflexive—you didn’t have much of an explanation for it. Almost like the one-off, fictitious bubble you thought you had with him burst and you couldn’t look at anything but the bushes to bring you back to reality.
Two people pulled up beside you two in a golf cart. Riki’s mood perked up as he greeted them. “Oh, hi guys,”
“Where you headed?”
Riki turned his head to you. “Where you going?” He said lowly, obviously taking your shyness into account.
Your eyes flit to the side then back to his gaze. “South Hall.”
He turned to the pair—two girls—with a bright smile on his face. “South Hall.”
The girls leaned over the steering wheel, beaming. “Hop in! We’ll give you a ride.”
Before you could wave them off, Riki’s hand landed lightly at the small of your back, steering you forward. “Perfect. We’re headed that way.”
Your head snapped up at him. We?
The girls brightened instantly, scooting their bags to make space on the back seat. “Yeah, climb in! Saves you the walk.”
You opened your mouth to protest—no way were you getting chauffeured across campus like his plus-one—but Riki was already sliding into the cart with that casual ease, patting the seat beside him like this was your cue.
“I’m fine walking—” you started.
The girl driving, her nametag reading Sydney—waved you off. “Girl, please. It’s nothing, we’re headed that way anyway.”
“Yeah, they’re already headed that way.” Riki smirked as he watched you step onto the cart. His hands up subconsciously to be ready to catch you if you slipped.
You settled into the tan leather seats. “Thank you, girls, I appreciate it.” You nodded with a small smile on your lips, clutching your bag tighter than necessary. Sydney grinned back at you in the rearview mirror, while her friend—Maya, judging by the lanyard swinging around her neck—twisted halfway in her seat to wave you off.
“Of course! We know how far South Hall is. Nobody should have to trek that after dinner.” The cart kicks as you pull off, breezing past the landscape and contemporary architecture. Paid for courtesy of the money that the athletics teams brought in from various donors and student dollars.
“Especially not after getting smacked in the face with a ball,” Riki added, leaning back like he owned the whole cart.
You shot him a look so sharp it could’ve cut glass. “You love bringing that up, don’t you?”
“History’s important,” he replied smoothly. “If I don’t remind you, who will?”
Maya giggled like he’d just delivered the funniest punchline of the century. You swore half the school was under his spell.
“Honestly, Riki’s right,” Maya said. “That pass was crazy. You didn’t even cry though. Respect.”
You pressed your lips together, fighting the urge to explain yourself. Because the truth was, you had flinched—you just did it internally where no one could see. But now, thanks to Riki, your little moment of public humiliation had become folklore. “You saw it?”
Maya nodded, “yeah, I’m the basketball coach’s assistant. Well I didn’t see it but I, for sure, heard it.”
“The smack heard around the world—” Riki laughed, curling into himself as you slapped his rock-solid arm. “Shut up,” you hissed, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.
Maya reassured you, “it’s okay. It’s contained. Only a few people saw it.” She shrugged, “the amount of times the guys on the team themselves have been hit is like…”
“Incalculable.” Sydney chimed in as she made a left turn, breezing past other walking students. You frowned at the sight, you wish you could fit them all in the vehicle.
“Totally,” Riki added. “You remember that game against Boston when Jay—”
“I’ve never seen any of the games.” You interjected, narrowly inspecting your nails—but as soon as you said that the cart almost jerked to a full stop.
Sydney’s head whipped around, eyes wide. “You what?”
Maya gasped, clutching her chest like you’d just told them you hated puppies. “You’ve never—ever?”
The cart slowed as a group of students crossed, giving Riki the perfect stage to swivel toward you, brows lifted in mock offense. “Hold on.” His voice was calm, but his expression was all wounded pride. “You’ve been sitting in my arena, my practices, for how long—and you’ve never watched a single game?”
You blinked at him. “I’m there for the cheer practices. Riki—I’ve never even seen you do more than dribble the ball.”
“How is that possible?” He furrowed his brows.
You frowned in thought. “I just never paid any mind to your side of the floor. I just…look where the girls are or my laptop. Mostly my laptop.”
They finally pulled up to the lecture hall. Both you and Riki slid out—thanking Sydney and Maya as you did. “Good luck, girlie.” Sydney gave one last smile before speeding off ahead. It went by a lot faster than you thought.
By this point, the two of you stood on the sidewalk right in front of South Hall. Taking in the silence for the moment as you both looked at the horizon. The sun melted behind the glass neuroscience building. Causing the both of you to turn your gaze to each other as the light reflected into your eyes. The moment Riki did, he grinned. “Okay. You can stop acting cool, no one’s around.” He whispered. “I know you’ve seen me play—one of my games at least.”
You slowly shook your head. “I swear I haven’t.”
He conceded, “Fine. Well…as I was saying before we were interrupted. I’m sorry for hitting you with the ball last week. It was an accident, and I also apologize for being a bit of a dick to you.”
You squinted up at him, arms crossed. “A bit of a dick?”
Riki laughed under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “A little bit…” He pinched his fingers together. You gave him a look as you waited for him to take it back. Letting his words simmer. “Not even just the tip?”
You sighed, running your hands over your face. “Boy, if you don’t get the fuck out of my face—”
“I’m sorry, okay, okay!” He laughs as he waves his hands in front of your face. “I was joking…”
“Mmm…” you tilted your head at him, your heart beating a bit faster than it was before this conversation began.
He pursed his lips as he smiled down at you. A glint in his eyes that you don’t recognize. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“As a token of my apology, I want to invite you to my next game.”
You stared at him like he’d just suggested a blood pact. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon.” His grin widened, like he’d been expecting that answer. “Front row, VIP. I’ll even have your name on the pass list. You don’t even have to cheer for me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Fine, then come and boo. Loud. Make a sign if you want—‘Down with Nishimura’ or something.” He mimed holding up a poster, his expression all faux-serious. “I’ll wave at you from the free throw line.”
You snorted despite yourself, quickly covering it with a cough. “Why would I waste my Friday night watching sweaty dudes run back and forth?”
“Because sweaty dudes running back and forth is basically my art form,” he shot back smoothly. Then he tilted his head, eyes narrowing just a little. “Besides…you owe me.”
Your brows furrowed. “For what?”
“For traumatizing me,” he said without hesitation. “Do you know how much it hurts when someone tells you they’ve never seen your masterpiece?”
“That’s something called ego.”
He leaned in, close enough that his voice dropped into something teasingly low. “Same difference.”
For a beat, you just stared at him, pulse tripping traitorously. “Dream on, Riki.” You turned, reaching for the heavy doors of South Hall, but his voice caught you right before you slipped inside.
“One game,” he called out, tone softer now. “Just one. If you hate it, I’ll never bother you again.”
You froze, hand on the handle. He had to know you weren’t the type to fold under pressure—so why did his voice sound less like a challenge and more like a genuine ask?
Slowly, you glanced back. He was standing there with his hands shoved into his sweats, rocking back on his heels, watching you with a grin that wasn’t entirely smug.
You squinted. “You expect me to believe that? You’ll leave me alone?”
He pressed a hand over his heart, feigning sincerity. “Scout’s honor.”
“You’ve never been a scout in your life.”
“Exactly, so I’ve got nothing to lose,” he said easily. “C’mon. You sit in the bleachers twice a week anyway. This time, you get a show.”
You opened your mouth to shoot him down again—but the words got stuck. Maybe it was the sunset painting him in gold, maybe it was the echo of his laugh still buzzing in your chest, maybe it was the faint thrill of saying yes when every fiber of you wanted to say no.
You saw why people liked him. When he wasn’t being a pompous, meat for brains, insipid asshole—Riki could be described in a very simple word: charismatic. Everything that he is, does, seems to rub people the right way. But the fact that it took over a week to get a full apology from him always rang in the back of your mind.
“C’mon mama, wherever you need to be, you only have five minutes.” He sang, as he glanced at his blue Superman watch.
You didn’t want to be bought by him, this was just some sick foreplay, if any. He said it himself, he likes people—girls—like you. The ones that despise him and aren’t so easily won. He probably thinks you two are flirting—he has been. You haven’t—not intentionally that is.
The last week has shown you the type of person he is. He’s rude, careless, inconsiderate and for sure undeserving of your time. “Quick question.”
He looked up at you, lifting his brow. “Talk to me.”
“Those girls that drove us, Sydney and…Maya. How do you know Sydney?” You pulled the sleeves of your zip-up over your wrist.
Riki cocked his head to the side, “she’s Maya’s girlfriend. Why?”
Okay so, that didn’t exactly satisfy the answer you wanted.
But this is the problem, you wanted so badly to catch him in something. To see if someone was going to pop out of the bushes and tell you that you’ve been Punk’d. That you were a fool for even thinking that one of the most prolific basketball stars this university’s ever seen wanted your time and attention. But he seemed to. Or maybe it was his guilt. You couldn’t tell.
And that was what was eating you alive. That you couldn’t tell. But curiosity was a bitch and maybe Friday night could’ve been for you.
As you looked at him again, he was already looking at you. “So?” He smiled gently, hopeful glints in his eyes.
You sighed, “how do I buy the ticket?” You throw up your hands in defeat as you look to the side and up at the nearly set sun.
“Yes!” He cheered, pumping a fist in the air like he’d just hit a buzzer beater. Opening his arms wide, “can I give you a hug?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, arms crossing tighter. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon, mama, I earned it,” he pleaded, arms still spread like he was about to embrace the whole campus. “You just admitted you’re coming to see me.”
“I admitted nothing,” you corrected, stepping around him toward the South Hall doors. “All I said was I need a ticket.”
“That’s the same thing.” He jogged to keep up with you, a grin plastered across his face. “In fact, it’s even better—you asked me for one. That’s like—” He paused, holding his hands out like he was framing a painting. “—a confession of interest.”
You stopped, deadpan. “I’m not interested,”
“And yet, hater,” he said, tapping his temple as if he’d solved world hunger, “I’ll see you Friday.”
Before you could come up with a scathing comeback, the bell tower chimed the hour. You groaned, clutching your bag. “I’m late. Thanks for that.”
“Thank me later,” he called as you hurried inside. And when you risked one last glance over your shoulder, he was still standing on the steps—hands in his pockets, that infuriating grin aimed right at you like he’d already won.
And maybe, just maybe, a tiny part of you worried he had.
—
“Wait what?! Riki invited you to his game?!”
“Say that any louder would you?” You threw your hands up in irritation as Yasmin’s eyes bulged out of her skull at the news.
Bella covered her mouth, stifling a laugh as she flipped the waffle maker open. “Wait—hold on, hold on.” She pointed the spatula at you like it was a gavel. “You, you, the number-one Riki Nishimura hater on campus, got personally invited by the man himself, and you said yes?”
You groaned, dropping your head into your hands. “I didn’t say yes, I just…didn’t say no.”
“That’s a yes,” Yasmin gasped, and she quietly clapped her hands. “Oh my gosh, you’re going to a game! Our little cynic is finally embracing school spirit!”
The dining hall was typically bustling around this time. Early in the morning, people want to load up on breakfast and catch up with friends before the inundating life of college consumes them. You, Yasmin, and Bella met up at nine AM for breakfast every single morning, no exceptions. Ten on weekends.
“Fuck the school, fuck the spirit.” You groaned. “I’m going because he wouldn’t shut up about it. It’s a one-time thing. A pity acceptance.”
Bella raised a brow. “A pity acceptance is still an acceptance, babe.”
The waffle maker dinged. She lifted the lid and slid a perfect golden square onto her plate, smirking as she doused it in syrup. “Honestly? I’m proud. You’re about to see the campus cult leader in his natural habitat.” She immediately doubled back to put more mix in the press. You and Yasmin always split a waffle.
The beautiful, olive skinned girl squealed again. Grabbing your hands and interlocking them. “This is huge! You’re gonna love it—the lights, the crowd, the energy—”
“The egos,” you cut in, tugging your hands back.
“The athleticism,” Yasmin countered, unfazed. “And hey, if you don’t like the game, at least the cheer squad will look amazing. I’ll even throw in a wink just for you.”
You wrapped an arm around both girls’ shoulders, to which they rested their heads on yours. “At least I’m guaranteed some type of joy. Seeing my hot friends in their cute cheer outfits.”
Bella laughed, rubbing your tummy as she lifted herself up to check your waffle. “I’ll even give you a lap dance if you ask nicely.”
“Bella!” Yasmin swatted her with the back of her hand, laughing so hard her mascara almost smudged.
“What?” Bella grinned, cutting your shared waffle with surgical precision.
You snorted into your mango juice. “If Riki’s game is even half as entertaining as this breakfast, maybe I’ll survive.”
“Oh, you’ll more than survive,” Yasmin said confidently. “You’re gonna be converted.”
“Is this guy really that good?” You grabbed two plates for the two and slid them to Bella.
The two girls nodded in unison. “Putting all dickhead-ism aside, babes. He’s extremely good.” Bella said as she put the halves on both plates.
Yasmin nodded, as you both walked back to your table. “Yeah, it’s freaky. I don’t know, but you’ll see Friday.” She shrugged as you sat at your table.
Bella pointed her fork at you. “You’re gonna hate how much you agree with her.”
Before you could fire back, a shadow fell across the table.
“Agree with who?”
You nearly choked on your strawberry. Yasmin yelped so loud half the dining hall turned. And Bella? She smacked her fork down like she was about to get very violent.
Standing there, plate balanced casually in one hand, was Riki Nishimura himself. Grinning like the devil.
“Don’t do that!” Yasmin scolded, clutching her chest.
“Do what?” he asked innocently, setting his plate down at the table behind yours. He placed his hand on the back of your chair—something weirdly intimate. You couldn’t assess the feeling. But you felt his body heat radiate off of him.
Bella and Yasmin knew Riki in passing. The basketball team and their cheerleaders—the team that the girls were a part of—were familiar with one another. From the university standpoint, the cheerleaders would hype up the crowd, boost morale, the works. On the other end, a lot of them would date other athletes. Which sounds cliche in hindsight.
Riki ‘dated’ many cheerleaders in his day, mostly during high school. Now, he’s calmed down—only having screwed around with three of them in his years at Decelis. Three in two years isn’t that terrible.
But that was the thing with Riki, he screwed. That’s all he could do. Wanted to do, really. He knew the power he held here and what man wouldn’t enjoy the flock of women that threw themselves at his feet? Especially when his status was what it was.
Riki would make it clear that he didn’t want anything more with them. Abundantly clear that it was just sex, nothing more or less. But of course, there would be a few that would try to change him. Claim him, go around saying things about him that weren’t true to scare other girls out of dating him. Once he started getting attention, sponsorships, ESPN coverage, he couldn’t risk his image being tainted at the hands of a one night stand. From his perspective, he’d rather get in trouble for things he did on his own than something someone else said. Especially if it weren’t true.
Besides that, the girls and him essentially ran in the same circles. Plus, Yasmin and one of the other basketball guys had a one-off fling. Brief, fruitless, literally lasted three weeks. Bella was pretty and Riki was sort of eyeing her for a minute, but that crush died. Nothing that Bella did, he just saw you.
“Nothing. Do nothing, Riki.” You looked up at him with a sarcastic smile. “What do you want?”
“Oh, I love the welcome wagon.” He nodded curtly as he lightly, very playfully punched your arm. “Just wanted to remind you that Friday shall not be forgotten.”
Yasmin smiles, “it’s not! We were just talking about yo—” Bella immediately kicked her leg, roughly—nearly leaving a bruise. Yasmin’s yelp turned into a strained laugh, way too high-pitched. “—yo, yogurt. We were just talking about yogurt.”
The blonde nodded affirmatively, slowly but going with what the girl writhing in pain said. “Uh-huh. Strawberry yogurt. Very…important conversation.”
Riki squinted, biting into his toast with suspicious slowness. “Yogurt. Right.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “You guys know you’re terrible liars, right?”
Bella shoved a piece of waffle into her mouth to avoid answering. Yasmin’s eyes darted everywhere but him. And you? You just stared back at him, unimpressed.
“Relax,” Riki grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “If I wanted to eavesdrop, I’d sit at this table, not behind you. Though—” His knuckles rapped against the back of your chair again, teasing. “This seat has its perks.”
Bella groaned into her plate. Yasmin kicked her under the table this time.
You rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have a young woman’s life to ruin?”
He quirked his brows, stealing a slice of kiwi from your plate. “Who, like yours?”
Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
Riki just chewed the kiwi like he hadn’t just thrown a grenade on the table. “I’m saying—” he gestured vaguely with his fork, “—you’re acting like I’ve got a whole victim list when clearly…” His eyes slid to you, gleaming. “…you’re volunteering.”
Bella choked on her waffle. Yasmin slapped her back, sputtering. “Who do you think you are?”
“What? I’m clarifying,” he said innocently, though the corner of his mouth was doing that thing—the smug almost-smile that made your blood heat. Then, without another word, he grabs a chair and his plate from the table he had the food on. Getting comfy as he set himself up. “I’m so sorry I just love girl chat.” He squealed as he scooted inward and entirely too close to you.
Bella’s head snapped up. “Did…did you just squeal?”
“I did.” Riki leaned his elbow on the table, grinning like a cheshire cat. “I’m very in touch with my feminine side.”
Yasmin looks at you with a disappointed sigh, “I see what you were talking about.”
Your fork froze mid-air. “Wow. Betrayal this early in the morning?”
Yasmin just shrugged helplessly, sipping her coffee. “I’m sorry,”
Riki gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “You’ve been slandering me before I even sat down?”
Bella stabbed her waffle with unnecessary force. “We didn’t need to. You do it all yourself.”
He turned to you then, eyes glinting, completely ignoring the other two. “So that’s the verdict? I walk in here, innocent, just trying to enjoy my kiwi—”
“You mean my kiwi?” You gesture to your nearly cleared off plate of fruit.
“It’s not like you were eating the shit.” He reached in, going for the last few slices. But before he could, you turned the bowl—bringing it out of his reach. Riki froze mid-reach, his hand hovering in the air.
Without any effort, he reached down to the leg of your chair—pulling you closer into his side with the strength of a singular arm. Your heart skipped, and you yanked back slightly, more surprised than scared. “Hey! What—”
Riki didn’t budge, just leaned forward to grab the bowl. “What?” His eyes flicked to the bowl of fruit, then back to you, unrepentant as he tested you. Dared you to speak again in a teasing way.
Bella and Yasmin froze mid-bite, their expressions somewhere between horror and fascination. Yasmin whispered, “Uh…maybe…maybe intervene?”
Bella just buried her face in her hands. “Nope. Not my problem.”
—
Friday came faster than you thought it ever could. Which is strange because any other week goes by excruciatingly slow for you. Greatly enough, you didn’t figure out why. Maybe it was the thought of seeing Riki on the court, all energy and mild aggression personified, or maybe it was the memory of him cornering you over a damn kiwi bowl. Either way, you found yourself walking across campus, purse slung over one shoulder, feeling a mix of dread and curiosity that you didn’t entirely understand.
The arena loomed ahead, banners flapping in the evening breeze as crowds of people made their way inside. Your chest tightened, not from the usual anxiety of social situations, but from the knowing—knowing that he was here, somewhere in the midst of all that chaos, grinning like he owned the place.
After the interactions you had with him, you wondered if Riki ever got nervous before games. If he did some bizarre ritual or had a good luck charm like a pair of socks he wears every game that he hasn’t washed since he was ten.
Your lace-trimmed long sleeve was very cute and delicate, definitely not the “athlete-supportive” outfit anyone would expect at a basketball game—but somehow, it felt like armor. You tugged at the hem nervously, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach.
Inside, the arena buzzed with energy: the squeak of sneakers on the polished court, the rhythmic stomps and chants of the crowd, the banners waving overhead. Somewhere in the middle of it all, you knew Riki would appear larger than life, and honestly…the thought made your palms sweat.
He didn’t lie, there was a seat reserved right in the front row with your name on it.
You blinked at the small placard. Your name. Front row.
A mix of irritation and curiosity bubbled up. Who even does that? And yet…part of you couldn’t deny the thrill. Sliding into the seat, you felt the floor vibrate as the players warmed up, sneakers squeaking and balls thumping as the team warmed up.
Then you saw him moving across the court, every motion effortless, commanding, magnetic. Even from a distance, you could feel the energy radiating off him, drawing your gaze like gravity. He caught your eye for a brief second, slyly winking at you as he chewed on a mouthguard.
His attire was great. Yes, he wore the school colors—purple and white—on his uniform. A large number three at the center of both sides of his jersey. But on his right arm, he had a white arm sleeve. White finger tape decorating his fingers as on the opposite leg—his left—he had a leg sleeve. You’ve seen basketball players wear stuff like this, it seemed to be the style.
Your eyes scanned the middle of the court and you spotted Bella and Yasmin—dolled up and looking as gorgeous as ever as they sat on the sidelines. You beamed and immediately took out your phone to snap a photo of them. Oh-so-inconspicuously sending that photo in the group chat. An ‘I’m watching your every step’ message. Nothing too weird, you know.
The laugh in your throat bubbled as you broke out into a smile, and for a moment, the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Bella’s perfectly lined eyeliner, Yasmin’s gleaming hair, the way they leaned into each other as they whispered—you could practically hear the unspoken jokes.
Until it was time for tip-off.
—
The buzzer sounded, a sharp crack that made your chest skip a beat, and the ball soared into the air.
Riki lunged with impossible timing, leaping higher than anyone else, his arm sleeve flexing with the motion. The crowd erupted as he slammed the ball down with a satisfying thunk, immediately taking control of the game.
From your front-row seat, every movement was mesmerizing: the pivot of his legs, the effortless bounce of the ball, the way his jersey clung just right when he twisted mid-air. And, of course, the occasional glance your way—a subtle lift of the brow, a tilt of the head—just enough to remind you he knew you were watching.
Riki crouched low near half-court, dribbling the ball between his legs with that smooth, controlled rhythm that made it look effortless. His eyes flicked up, scanning the defense like a chess player anticipating every move. He didn’t rush—never all-out too early. Every feint, every subtle shift of his weight was calculated, teasing the defenders, building tension, like he was saving the real fireworks for the perfect moment.
A defender lunged, trying to predict his next move, but Riki only stayed focused, spinning the ball through a precise between-the-legs crossover. He leaned forward, eyes locked on the basket, energy coiled and measured, every step deliberate.
And then—explosion. He exploded past the defender, weaving through the chaos with that signature agility, rising for a perfect, graceful layup that made the crowd roar. Even in motion, his gaze flicked toward you, subtle and teasing, like he was daring you to blink.
—
He always took smart shots.
Surprisingly enough, Riki was far from a ball hog. He moved like a conductor through the chaos of the game, every dribble, pivot, and pass precise. He orchestrated plays, drawing defenders toward him and then slipping a perfect pass to a teammate cutting to the hoop—playing the point guard role perfectly. Every shot he took was calculated; every assist and pass, effortless. You watched, captivated, as he built the momentum of the game with a controlled fire that was both intimidating and magnetic.
Halfway through the second quarter, he caught the ball just inside the three-point line, eyes scanning, defenders breathing down his neck. He dribbled, a subtle hesitation, then spun between his legs, pivoting with that signature agility. A defender tried to stop him, but his shoulder grazed Riki just enough to make him stumble—foul called immediately.
He didn’t miss a beat. Rising for the layup, he absorbed the contact and still managed to sink it cleanly. The whistle blew—and one.
As he landed, he slapped his chest with that confident, masculine gesture, exhaling sharply, eyes glinting. The crowd clapped, teammates high-fiving him.Every move seemed designed to entertain as much as to dominate. He drew cheers from the crowd, coordinated plays with teammates, and every so often, that teasing glance toward you reminded you: this was also a show for you.
—
On defense, Riki was a pest. Annoying. The kind of player who never gave you room to breathe. He crouched low, arms wide, reading the offense like he had the playbook in his head before it even unfolded. Every time his opponent tried to drive, he cut them off with quick, sharp footwork, shadowing every step.
And when he went for a steal? Ruthless. One second the ball was in his opponent’s hands, the next Riki had stripped it clean, darting down the court. He didn’t just defend—he got under skin. By the third quarter, you could see the frustration written across the faces of the guys stuck dealing with him.
He thrived on it too. That sly grin crept back whenever a frustrated guard shoved into him a little too hard, trying to break free. He’d just shrug it off, tap his leg sleeve like try again, and lock back in.
Even from the front row, you could tell—he wasn’t just good. He was exhausting to play against.
—
There were a few times he should’ve got called for a technical foul but wasn’t. A few of the other guys on the team trash-talked. But Riki’s mouth was the worst. You could tell, just like the rest of them, that they got extremely competitive in the heat of the moment. Which was understandable, but you wondered. There have been many times you’ve seen women’s games and the refs have so much to say to them when they get snippy. But the guys are essentially having a dick swinging contest right before the entire country to see.
He’d get in the defenders’ faces, bump their shoulders. Take out his mouthguard specifically just to shit talk right in their faces. Whispering foul words to intimidate the player that you couldn’t make out.
The guilty part of you was sort of turned on by it, seeing Riki this way. This was the most masculine you saw him. Not the smug tease hovering over your shoulder in the dining hall. Not the boy grinning as he chased you up to class. Here, on the court, chest heaving, jaw tight, trash talk spilling easy—this was Riki in his rawest form. And you hated how much your stomach knotted watching it.
—
By the last thirty seconds, the gym was shaking. 126–126. Decelis ball. Everyone in the stands already knew where it was going—Riki. He dribbled up, face locked in that sharp, predator focus you’d never seen off the court. Two defenders closed in, practically climbing his back. The crowd roared, waiting for him to take the shot. Of course he would. He always did.
He didn’t.
At the last second, Riki snapped his wrist and swung the ball out to a teammate wide in the corner. Perfect pass. The kid launched it. Swish. Decelis up three.
The arena exploded, bodies leaping, the bench clearing to scream. Riki didn’t even crack a smile—just hit his chest once, hard, and pointed at his teammate like that’s you.
The other team scrambled for a last shot, missed, and the buzzer went off in a storm of whistles and screams. Decelis: 129. Them: 126.
Your ears rang as everyone flooded the court. Players crashing into each other, coaches losing their minds, fans pressed against the rails. And in the middle of it all was Riki, tall and shining and untouchable, sweat dripping down his jaw.
While you covered your ears, trying to ensure you didn’t lose your hearing at the tail-end of this event—you got it now. More than anything did you understand why these things weren’t just games. They were spectacles.
If people were like this for regular in-season games, imagine what the playoffs and (hopefully) championship games would be like. But besides that, you realized what made your pulse race wasn’t just the scoreboard or the roaring crowd—it was him.
Riki, standing there like the center of gravity, chest rising and falling, teammates mobbing him in a blur of jerseys. He hadn’t even taken the final shot, but everyone knew he’d been the engine. The conductor. The spark.
He accepted the praise, but he immediately found the kid that he passed to—hitting his chest as he nodded. Smiling through his mouth guard as they both had some weird, guy conversation.
Some celebratory music was playing from the arena speakers, as the fans cheered and stomped, the sound rattling through your bones. Players kept shoving Riki, grabbing his shoulders, hollering in his face like he’d just saved the world. He took it all with that cool, unbothered grin, dapping them up one by one.
But then, as the noise stretched on, he peeled away. Sweat dripping down his temple, jersey clinging, he jogged over to the scorer’s table. You frowned, watching as he grabbed the ball from the official’s hands, spinning it once in his palm like it belonged to him.
And then—of course—his gaze cut straight to you.
Your stomach twisted as he looked at you, expectantly—waiting for your approval. Waiting for your okay. For you to tell him how great he already knew he was. But he wanted to hear it—see it—from you.
Without a word, you nodded slowly—tipping your bag of sour gummies at him as you leaned back into your seat.
His grin widened around his mouth guard, sharp and almost childlike as he turned back to his teammates—doing cheesy celebratory dances as the arena cleared out.
You shook your head, laughing softly as you cleaned up your area. Grabbing the wrappers and water bottles you went through—you hated leaving messes for people to pick up when you were fully capable of doing it yourself.
As you walked to the trashcan that was about ten feet away, the girls wrapped their arms around you from either side. Bella’s perfume hit you first, sugary and strong, while Yasmin’s lip gloss smudged your cheek as she leaned in.
“Front row, huh?” Yasmin sing-songed, her grin wicked.
Bella gave you a look that said girl, explain, even as she pretended to focus on the giant foam finger she was waving.
“In my defense, I didn’t think I’d be put there.” You put your hands up, stepping back.
The blonde smiled, poking your arm. “Okay, WAG—”
“No!” You laughed, swatting her hand away. “Not WAG! I’m not—I didn’t—”
Yasmin’s grin widened, clearly loving your flustered flailing. “Relax, relax. We’re just saying, you know…front row. Big stage. Him.”
Bella snorted, waving the foam finger like a banner of proof. “Yeah, yeah, admit it—you enjoyed it.”
You rolled your eyes, tugging your bag higher on your shoulder. “I did. The game was good.” Nodding in thought, “y’all were right.”
Yasmin smiled, “see?! It’s so cute like, we all come together just to sit down and be in community and cheer and it just—”
“Okay Miss Frizzle,” Bella placed her hand onto the girl’s shoulder as you all shared a laugh. Bella tugged you guys close, hugging you both tightly. “Okay, so are we ever gonna have the conversation where we cover the fact that Riki totally wants you?”
You froze mid-step, the weight of Bella’s words hitting like a surprise full-court press.
Yasmin snorted behind her hand, eyes sparkling. “Ooh, she’s gonna deny it. Watch.”
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, trying for casual, but your voice betrayed you anyway.
Bella rolled her eyes, smirking. “Uh-huh. Totally casual. Front row, him looking like a Greek statue on the court, and he somehow looked in your general direction for most of the game? Totally casual. So friendly.”
You nodded, brushing your curls behind your ear. “Mhm, you said it, not me.”
They both give you a look. Sharing one with each other as they both moved you out of the way as there were flocks of people still trying to make their ways out of the arena in one piece. But you somehow forgot about their existence, this has been happening a lot to you the last few hours. And most of your life.
This sort of dissociation—only minding the people close to you. The ones you thought were special. Like today, you’d be in a sea of people and if you knew three—you kept them close to your chest. There’s been so many times where people would run into you, or come up to you and greet you and you’d not know who they were until they reminded you that you had your eleven-thirty history class with them and they sat right behind you.
This is why Riki crashing into your life these last two weeks has been so surreal for you. And maybe, just maybe, this might be the reason for your subconscious rejection of him. You never actually hated him, you understood that. You simply didn’t like that you and the entire university were being forced to like him simply because he was good at a sport.
By this point, the arena was empty sans for you three and some custodians that swept up the floor with pristine efficiency. Proving they’ve done this a thousand times over.
Yasmin opened her mouth to respond, yet she was interrupted by one of the girls calling from one of the double doors. “Bella! Yasmin! C’mon, Coach is making us take photos and we can’t go without you guys.”
The brunette nodded, “we’re coming!” She called out as she turned to look at you. “Be right back.” She whispered, hugging you tightly—kissing your cheek as she scampered off to the door.
Bella smiled as she watched Yasmin make a quick break for the doors. Turning back to you, she nodded to the door. “Wanna come?”
You shrugged a shoulder. “Sure I—” From the corner of your eye, you see a tall figure jogging toward you. The sound of sneakers squeaking against the polished floor pulled your attention, and before you could even finish your sentence, there he was. The man of the hour.
Still in his jersey, dried sweat sticking to his skin, his hair damp at the edges. He had ditched his mouthguard somewhere between celebrating and now, flashing that unbothered grin that made your pulse do a somersault. The ball was tucked under one arm like an extension of himself, and his pace—quick, determined—made it obvious: he wasn’t jogging toward anyone. He was jogging toward you.
Bella’s brows shot up, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile as she stepped aside like she knew she was witnessing a movie scene unfold. “Ohhh, this should be good,” she murmured, already backing toward the doors to “give you space” but absolutely intending to eavesdrop from ten feet away. She debated, but ultimately decided to go find the team before she had to run ten laps before next practice. “I’ll catch you later, love you.” She whispered, rubbing your shoulder before she scurried off.
Your feet stayed planted, though your mind screamed at you to do literally anything else. Riki slowed to a stop in front of you, chest rising and falling, eyes locked onto yours like Bella, the arena, the custodians didn’t exist. “Hi.”
Just that—soft, breathless, like he’d been holding it in all night and finally let it spill. He shifted the ball under his arm, free hand tugging at the hem of his jersey like it could keep him grounded. His eyes, though, weren’t grounded at all—they were skating across your face, memorizing, cataloguing, daring you to look away.
“Congrats,” you managed, your voice a little too high, a little too airy, like you hadn’t been practicing something cooler in your head since halftime. “Star of the game, huh?”
His grin returned, a little crooked now, more boy than legend. “Nah. Don’t start with all that.” He leaned in a fraction, enough for you to catch the lingering salt of sweat, the heat radiating off him. “Besides…wasn’t really playing for the crowd tonight.”
You raised your brows in slight shock, your heart skipping a little at the flirtation. “Are you flirting with me, sir?” Stifling a laugh as you cock your head.
Riki laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he nodded. “Yeah. I am.”
Your stomach dipped like the floor had given out under you, though your face did its best to play it cool. Folding your arms, pretending his answer didn’t just rearrange your insides, you said, “Thank…you?”
Riki’s laugh came again, low and disbelieving, like you’d just crossed him up on his own court. “Thank you?” He echoed, shaking his head as he adjusted his grip on the ball. “That’s your response?”
You shrugged, trying to look unfazed even as your pulse thudded in your throat. “Well, what do you want me to say?”
That crooked grin tugged at his lips again, boyish and sharp all at once. He angled his chin at you, eyes flicking over your face like he was searching for the crack in your act. “I was hoping for something more like…‘finally.’”
That single word hung between you, heavier than the arena’s fading buzz. Your arms loosened, the folded front slipping without your permission. “Finally?” you repeated, soft, like you weren’t sure if you wanted to challenge him or dare him to keep going.
“Yeah,” Riki said, voice quieter now, less bravado and more truth. “Been waiting for a shot. Figured tonight I’d stop warming the bench.” He let the ball go, letting it bounce. He tapped it gently, letting it come back to his hand. He extended it to you with one arm. “For you, beautiful.”
You blinked at the ball, then at him, like he’d just offered you his jersey, his sneakers, and possibly his firstborn all at once. “For me?”
Riki’s smirk tilted into something softer, more earnest. “Yeah. MVP keeps the ball. Tonight…” he shrugged, eyes never leaving yours, “that’s you.”
Without anything else coming to mind, you just take the ball hesitantly. Like it would explode if you were to handle it wrong. “Oh my gosh, Riki…” you smile brightly. “Thank you.”
He laughs softly, “you said that already, mama. You don’t have to thank me.” He waved off as he sighed shakily. “Look…I know…we got off to a rocky start—”
“Rocky?” You echoed, one brow arching as you hugged the ball tighter against your chest.
“Hostile’s the better word.”
You nodded curtly, “for sure.”
Riki chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck like he was taking the hit on purpose. “Yeah, I deserved that.”
You tilted your head, lips twitching. “Glad we agree.”
His grin softened into something a little less cocky, a little more boyish. “But…if hostile was the start, I’m hoping this—” he nodded toward the ball in your arms, “—can be, you know, the reset.”
“So you wanna be friends?” You bounced the ball, dribbling it as you stared down at it. Ensuring it didn’t go anywhere—zero hand-eye coordination on your end.
Riki’s smile brightened as he watched you. “Friends is a good start, that’s not all I want though.” His eyes darted between you and the ball that you seem to have so much trouble dribbling but he just let you go.
Your dribble went sideways, the ball nearly escaping before you caught it with both hands, clutching it like a life preserver. “Not all you want?” you repeated, squinting at him. “You don’t even know if I can make a free throw.”
Riki snorted, entertained at seeing you try this with zero grace. “But I do know you can’t dribble. I’m sorry but you are absolutely terrible.”
“Hey! It’s not even my job to be good at this shit. Sorry I’m not like what’s-his-name.” You switch hands and dribble the ball at an irregular rhythm.
“What is his name, sweetheart?” Riki pursed his lips as he watched you with his hands clasped behind his back.
You snapped your fingers as if it were able to trigger a thought. “Um…Allen Iverson! Yes! Allen Iverson.”
Riki blinked, then burst out laughing, so loud one of the custodians looked over in confusion. “Allen Iverson?!” He bent forward, hands on his knees, grinning at you like you’d just told the funniest joke of the year. “Oh my God—nah, don’t do AI like that. He’s turning in his grave right now—”
“He’s not even dead!” you cut in, indignant, clutching the ball tighter.
Riki straightened, smirk pulling at his lips as he pointed at you. “Exactly. And you still killed him with that comparison.”
You gasped dramatically, eyes wide. “Wow. You’re mean.”
“Nah,” he shook his head, stepping closer again, grin softer now. “Just honest. And besides…” his gaze lingered on you, enough to make your heartbeat stumble, “…you’re way cuter than Iverson anyway.”
You got back to dribbling. “I don’t know…” you sang. “I used to have a crush on him when I was young.” You were focused, tongue sticking out in concentration as you played with the ball.
He blurted out. “Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t take this anymore.” He scratched his forehead. “You gotta keep your eyes up, mama.” Scrunching his nose a bit as he put his hand on his hip.
“No, Riki, I’m gonna lose it if I do!”
“Well I’m already losing it.” He laughs at your stubbornness. “You looking down isn’t helping you. If this were a game, I’d steal the ball from you.”
Your eyes stayed down, at this point, you were just pulling his leg.
He swiftly stole the ball from you. “Hey,” he said firmly, grabbing your chin gently and forcing you to look at him. He bounced the ball at a quick rhythm, “look at me.” Dribbling the ball between his legs as he leans down to your height.
Your breath caught, heat rushing to your cheeks at how close he suddenly was—his palm warm and steady on your chin, his eyes locked onto yours like he dared you to blink.
The ball thudded against the hardwood in a perfect rhythm, the sound echoing in the empty arena. His smirk deepened, lips curling as if he’d just proven his point without saying another word. “See? Easy. You keep your eyes on me, and the ball takes care of itself.”
You scoffed, though it came out softer than intended, your voice a little shaky. “That’s…literally not how physics works.”
“Sure it is,” he countered smoothly, still dribbling with one hand, chin tilted with that effortless confidence. “Ball control is focus. And right now, your focus…” he tapped your chin lightly before pulling his hand back, “…is exactly where I want it.” He stops dribbling and presses the ball into your chest.
“You’re such a showoff.” You crossed your arms over the ball, trying to reclaim some authority, though your heart betrayed you with a rapid thump.
Riki tilted his head, grin sharpening just enough to be mischievous. “And you’re—
“Yo Riki!”
The both of you turn to see someone from behind you. Turns out it was three people, only one of them shouting out from across the floor. His teammates most likely. “You coming?!”
Confusion coated your features. That and annoyance was on Riki’s as well until realization found him. “Wh—oh shit!” He quickly turned to you with a small smile. “The team’s having an afterparty at one of the frats, wanna come?”
Your eyes widened, “a frat party?”
“Well, yes and no. One of the guys on the team, Maki—we have the same name, funnily enough. Whatever that’s not the point—the point is, he’s a part of Phi Gamma Theta. The party’s at his frat house and it’s his turn to buy the beer.” He nods with a shimmy of his shoulders.
You turn to his teammates that are eyeing you both expectantly, mainly him. At this moment, you really didn’t want to go. Like at all. And you were most certainly going to deny him! But you were so surprised that he was so quick to let you into his world in this way—so quickly. While you liked that he wanted you in the spaces that he occupied, you were weary of both him and the company he kept. You simply didn’t know him that well.
While it didn’t hurt to make new friends and take on new social scenes, you seriously debated how to spend your Friday night. Bella and Yasmin were going to their dorms right after this they said. They’d been putting in serious work this week and were taking every last day of their weekends to do nothing. You were just going to study for your Latin quiz on Monday—which you hardly did because you were too worried about the Philosophy paper due this afternoon. So either way, you lost. “Uh…I think I’m gonna stay in tonight. Latin quiz on Monday and I’ve hardly studied.”
Riki nodded, “for sure, that’s fine.” He waves off, looking to his teammates and holding up his index finger. Indicating that he wanted a second. They went back to where they came, most likely the locker room. “Text me when you get to your dorm?”
You quirked a brow, that confusion making another appearance. “I don’t have your number, Riki.”
He tilts his head, “you for sure do.” His eyes fell to the basketball in your hands then your eyes again.
Your gaze followed where his once was, shifting the ball around in your hands until you come across a slip of paper taped securely to it. Reading: To my MVP. Then the digits followed. Laughing, your heart rate spiking more than you’d like it to. “You’re such a cornball.”
“And I got your number from Yasmin already so…don’t even think about flaking on me.” He wagged a finger in your face. “I’m a little crazy too, I hope you know.” He teased.
“Too? As in, you think I’m crazy?” You narrow your eyes as you fold your hands over the ball. He smiled as he reminisced, “well, when one takes a fresh basketball to the face and doesn’t cry, I’d like to think there’s a little something in your wheelhouse.”
You stared at him blankly. “Goodnight, Riki.” Then lightly tossed the ball, watching it bounce right off his forehead before he could react. And funnily enough, it fell right back in your hands. “Huh, I guess ball control really does work.”
Riki laughed, rubbing the spot as he stepped closer. “See? Never lied to you.” His hand hovered briefly at the back of your head before he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Thanks for coming. I mean it. Text me when you get in, okay? Actually—” his grin flickered back as he shook his head, “don’t even bother. I’ll text you in thirty minutes.”
And this might’ve been the very moment that he got you.
Him getting closer to you as he showed this affection felt like it was in slow motion. Did it last twenty seconds or twenty minutes, you couldn’t tell. As the faint scent of his sweat overtook your senses, you found yourself breathing him in. Taking in every ounce of the time you had with him in this arena.
Despite the salty liquid, he smelled of something clean. Like linen, or some sort of fruit—citrus. More so an orange. His body was cooler now, but the heat from his body trying to cool itself down and instead it felt like the heat was all on you now.
You did this a lot. Taking him in. Soaking up every second despite his presence not wanting to admit how much you enjoyed it. That awareness lingered in your chest, heavy and sweet, like honey that refused to dissolve. You hugged the ball against your stomach, pretending it was the only anchor keeping you steady. Because if you didn’t, you might’ve reached out—might’ve let your fingers graze his jaw, might’ve leaned in just a little too much.
He didn’t make it easier, either. Still so close, still looking at you like you were something more than just a distraction. His grin is softer now, less cocky. Like he was letting you see the part of him he didn’t hand out to just anyone.
—
The second you get to your dorm you don’t even text him. You immediately sit at your desk, prop your phone up and move all your books to the side. You felt like you just did ninety lines of cocaine, every bone in your body jittering, every nerve spiked.
To be fully transparent, you hadn’t felt like this since Christmas when you were ten and your parents got you the entire Dork Diaries series after hearing you ask for it since December the year before. Fuck all the Bratz dolls, the Barbies, the dollhouses. Those be damned. Nothing mattered more to you than finally reading the book where Nikki actually didn’t say her comebacks in her head and when Mackenzie wasn’t finally the victim anymore. However, you didn’t get that far in the series anyway.
There had to be a day that you found your Brandon Roberts, and it might’ve not been today. But until then, you had to document every moment to your best friends.
As you rang them on the group video call, they both popped in. Yasmin was perched at her desk with a face mask and a fluffy headband like she was running a skincare commercial. Bella was sprawled across her bed, the camera only showing her nose up like she couldn’t be bothered with life.
“Why you calling us like the world’s ending?” Bella groaned, her voice muffled by her pillow.
“Because it is,” you shot back immediately, tucking your legs under your desk chair. “Guys—I think Riki kissed me.”
So, both of them were gagged—full stop.
Your screen sparks to life. Yasmin’s in a fluffy headband, cheeks already flushed. Bella’s camera is a nose-up drama shot and both of them look like they’ve seen a ghost and a dream at the same time.
“No way! Wait—what—dude! I thought you didn’t like him like that!” Bella beamed as she smiled into the camera. Holding her heart to keep it from bursting and oozing into the phone. You tilted your head, “I’m easy, I fear…” you bit your finger as you all giggled at your tone. Burying your face into the desk, you screamed into the hardwood. Yasmin asked. “Wait so…what do you mean ‘you think?’ I’m pretty sure you’d know if someone kissed you, girl.” She leaned back in the chair, smiling still as she smushed slime. Letting the glue mold in her hands as she popped some of the air bubbles.
You grabbed a stress ball from your drawer. “Long story short—”
“Hold up—sorry to interrupt but after I left how long did y’all talk for? Y’all stayed on the floor?” Bella nodded, trying to scope out the scene.
You nodded, “yeah, and we stayed for like…twenty minutes after?”
Yasmin squealed, holding her cheeks. “Ugh, I’m so happy for you! What did y’all talk about?”
Shrugging, you shook your head in thought. “We just…talked. It wasn’t anything heavy. But he did say he wanted to be more than friends; and me coming to the game was a way for him to hopefully bridge the gap between us.” A smile spreads onto your face slowly. “It was nice…”
“So how did a kiss happen?” Bella hummed, fully sat for this debrief.
You clear your throat dramatically, adjusting yourself in your seat. “So basically, he gave me the game ball—” Both girls jumped up like you announced you just won the lottery. “Rejoice! Thank goodness, my girl is finally gonna get some dick!” Bella cried out to the popcorn ceiling, raising her hands in jubilation.
“But he taped his number to it—and Yas! You gave him my number?!”
Yasmin ducked lower in her chair, a guilty smile creeping across her face while her slime made a wet squelch. “...maybe. Don’t act like you’re mad, you’re literally glowing right now.”
You tossed the stress ball at the wall, rolling your eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck. “That’s beside the point!”
Bella was already wheezing, halfway off her bed. “No, no, no, wait. He taped his number to the game ball? Like…actually taped it? That’s the most middle school-romance-movie shit I’ve ever heard. I live.”
“And it said ‘To my MVP,’” you admitted begrudgingly, dragging your hands down your face like confessing to a crime.
Both of them lost it again. Yasmin fell sideways in her chair, face mask peeling at the edges, while Bella screamed into her pillow like you’d told her BTS showed up at your dorm.
“Oh my god,” Yasmin gasped between giggles. “He’s corny. He’s so corny. But in the best way. Like…cereal box prize corny. The kind you keep forever.”
Bella sat up, eyes wild. “Nah, that’s husband behavior. Do you hear me? Husband.”
And despite yourself, you smiled so wide your cheeks hurt. “Then when we both parted—he and the team were going to a party at the Phi Gamma Theta house. He invited me but I didn’t wanna go—anyway—as we were leaving, he kissed my forehead—AH!” You screamed into the desk again. Not even caring if you got a noise complaint. You cleared your throat as you got back up. “Sorry.” They shook their heads, waving you off without a care.
“Anyway, he kissed my forehead, thanked me for coming, and said to text him when I got here—I haven’t yet.” You grabbed another toy, your slinky, and played with that. “And that if I didn’t he’d call me in thirty.”
Yasmin nodded, “so why didn’t you text him yet?”
Bella chimed in, “so she can see if he’s the type of guy to do what he says he’s gonna do, Yas.” She nodded with a smirk, tapping her temple in thought.
“Well, he should be calling any—”
Your phone buzzed as it rang from an unknown number—most likely Riki’s seeing as you hadn’t saved it yet. “Oh my gosh, fine shit is calling! What do I do?! Wait! He’s video calling me too!”
“Answer it, fuckface!” Bella laughed.
You yelped, fumbling for the green button as your hands shook. “I—I don’t know if I can!”
“Girl, are you serious?!” Yasmin screeched, squeezing her slime like it owed her money. “Just answer! He’s literally waiting to see your face!”
Bella was practically vibrating off her bed, one hand covering her mouth while the other waved frantically at the screen. “Do it! Pretend you’re calm, but like—you know just play it cool.”
“Okay, okay!” You took a breath and quickly clicked the green button.
Then before you knew it, there stood Riki. Hair slightly damp from the shower and outside air drying, fresh faced, and a black tee that you could only see the neckline of. The streetlight and LEDs that the frat had up illuminated his face so warmly. It was so bizarre, from the neck downward, Riki was beyond what you could imagine an athlete’s physique being like. Lean, agile, cut, not even an ounce of fat on him—but even then, you realize that he was still so handsome anyway.
He smiled when he saw you. “Hope you didn’t forget about me.”
You waved, “no, I could never.” Opening your arms as you spread the slinky and let it fall back into your hands.
“How was the debrief?” He brushed his hair back, flashing his watch, laughing softly as he saw your shocked face. “What? I have sisters, ma. I know what you girls do.”
You sputter like a bad engine, “uh…I—it was fine?”
Riki chuckled, that low, easy laugh that made your chest feel way too tight. “That’s code for none of my damn business, I assume?”
“You’d assume correctly.” You nodded slowly as you gathered your books. Flipping to the right pages. “How’s the party, brochacho?” Saying absentmindedly as you grab your tablet to notetake.
He laughed softly at the name as he wandered about the lawn. “It’s alright, not really feeling it tonight. Just wanted to make sure you were in one piece. That you didn’t walk into any balls on the way there.”
You rolled your eyes, “yeah I have some balls you can walk into.”
“Shut up,” he smiled as he sipped from his red cup.
Talking to him was calming, like talking to a friend you’ve known for years. Smooth, simple, easy. The nerves came and went with him. They never stuck.
“You been drinking?” You copied your important notes down from the textbook. Trying to pay attention to the material but your mind was obviously elsewhere.
He shrugged, “some beer. Took like a pull of some weed but…” He trailed off with a little sigh, lips puckered in that half-pout that made him look younger than he was. The camera dipped slightly as he adjusted the phone, showing the glow of the house behind him, people laughing, voices spilling into the night. Sitting on the sidewalk, and on their phones as they nursed drinks. “Not really my scene right now.”
Your pen stalled over your tablet, notes forgotten. “Wow, the big campus star skipping out on free booze and bad music? What’s the world come to?”
“You must not know me,” he snorted, laughing at the irony. “I’m always a buzzkill at these shits. I feel like they only invite me just in case.”
Humming, you stood up and gathered your stuff for your shower. Not to take one now, but to prepare your clothes for when you did. “In case of?”
“Just for safety. I sort of…act as a buffer. If we’re caught drinking on campus, it’s a problem, blah blah. Coach is notified but we’re not gonna get real disciplinary action.” He shrugged a shoulder.
You nodded slowly, “oh to be a man.” Out of view, you bent down to your drawers to pull out your pajamas and fresh underwear.
“No, even the women’s teams do this. Any smart coach wouldn’t let it get to the Dean. We’d get punished internally for shit like that. Run laps, suicides, sacrificing a Saturday to wash his car, I don’t know. Looks bad on him if he benches starters.”
You laughed as you folded your pajamas. “Nah that would piss me off. Making you do suicides for one beer? I’d kill myself, actually.”
Riki shrugged, amused. “You’d be surprised. Guys hate it more than anything. Pride chips away at the sight of a whistle.” He nudged the camera so you could see a pair of teammates arguing over pizza in the background. “Anyway, I should probably go make sure no one’s starting a riot.”
You tucked a loose curl behind your ear and grinned. “Go be the responsible one, then. I’ll be the one who aces Latin because I studied all night—” you said as you sat back down, deadpan, and he snorted.
“Mm. Sure you did,” he teased. “The dining halls are closed by now. If you get hungry just tell me. I’ll send you whatever you want, okay?”
Your pen hovered over your tablet, heart hitching. He said it so simply, like it wasn’t a whole production, like sending food across campus at midnight was just so normal. “Aww, Riki. You taking care of me with that NIL money?”
“Hell yeah,” he said, furrowing his brows. “I worked hard for that shit.” Laughing as he sipped from his cup. “It’s hard out here.”
You laughed, shaking your head as you scribbled half a Latin conjugation that didn’t even make sense. “Oh my God. Not you acting like a single mom trying to stretch the paycheck.”
“Don’t play with me, I am the single mom of this team.” He turned the camera toward the chaos of his teammates wrestling over the last pizza box. “Look at my damn kids. Do you see what I deal with?”
“Serving Reba McEntire realness.”
Riki rubbed his eyes, deadpanning. “Go study, sweetheart.”
“You should wear a red wi—”
“How about that Latin test!” He smiled happily—albeit mocking to shift topics.
Your laughter rang through the call, and for a second he just looked at you, the corner of his mouth tugging up like he couldn’t help it.
“Alright, go ace your Latin,” Riki said, softer now.
“You go wrangle your kids,” you shot back, smiling.
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Night, Riki.”
The screen went dark, leaving you with the echo of his voice and a grin you couldn’t quite wipe off.
—
Two weeks later
—
They say the first high is the best. That once you get it, you spend the rest of your days trying to chase the one you got at the start.
You didn’t get high—at least not like that anyway.
In your situation, riding the high of Riki Nishimura’s attention felt like its own kind of intoxication. Every ping of your phone, every dumb meme he sent between classes, every “good morning” text when he was already at practice—it was steady, constant, addictive. And instead of chasing it, you were starting to wonder if he was raising the bar higher every time.
And in retrospect, Bella was right. Why did it seem like once that buzzer hit, a switch flipped in your mind and you were just indoctrinated like the rest of the Decelis student body? Like he knew exactly what he needed to do to get you.
You couldn’t put your finger on it but you didn’t want to overthink anything. So many things that you couldn’t comprehend put you here in this very situation and you didn’t want to ruin it by reading too deeply into it.
Needless to say, Riki has seamlessly made his way into your routine. You didn’t think he’d find a place within the days that are overtaken by your needs and wants, your best friends, and classes. But if he did anything, it was make your life easier.
Riki never asked you to ditch your friends to be with him. He understood that he only had you for lunch and dinner as you had breakfast with Bella and Yasmin everyday.
He messaged you to check up in between classes, already having memorized your schedule. Ensuring that you had snacks so you didn’t lose stamina between lectures—he had successfully put you on to these protein bars, amazing. And they didn’t taste like chalk.
Riki even went as far as to start waiting outside your lecture halls—never in a way that felt suffocating, just casual. Leaning against the wall with his hood up, earbuds in, scrolling on his phone until you stepped out. Like he wasn’t the six-foot star guard of Decelis basketball but just some guy, killing time until you showed up.
Sometimes he walked you to the dining hall, sometimes to the library, he always just carried your bag like it was second nature. It wasn’t grand gestures—no flowers, no flashy displays—it was little things. He made space for you without demanding it, and you couldn’t lie, it was disarming.
The girls noticed, of course. Yasmin raised a brow every time your phone lit up with his name. Bella, never subtle, outright called him your “NBA boyfriend” and asked if she should start practicing her court-side wave. But kept reminding you that Riki was boyfriend stuff without the actual title.
And maybe you should’ve protested harder, maybe you should’ve insisted it wasn’t that serious. But deep down, some part of you was starting to like the way it sounded.
That conversation had rang in the back of your mind for the rest of the day. And you just kept hearing Yasmin’s “...boyfriend behavior without the title” line, over and over and over again.
Because was it really true? Were you in a situationship? Really, it’d only been two weeks, is that an appropriate time to get to know someone to further ask them on a date?
In essence, the things that Riki did for you to show he cared, were indeed boyfriend things. Sending you food when you didn’t want to leave your dorm or the spots around campus were closed. Making sure you ate and drank enough water. Never demanded your time even though his life especially, always demanded a lot from him—he ensured that there was some time out of his day for you.
You knew he liked you and he let you know he did. But did he like you enough to take you seriously? Were you just something to do? Something to take his mind off the budding fame and popularity? Funnily enough, before you came to Decelis, one week before your first year, your parents had told you in harmony: don’t date athletes.
Maybe your rejection of Riki at the beginning was just a subconscious effort to suppress your attraction to him from the very start. So that must be why it was so easy to come to terms with liking him.
Because you always did.
The girls had left your dorm room to go on about their evenings. You just chilled on your beanbag and looked pretty as you watched one of your favorite gamers fail at Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader?
Besides the Riki stuff, you were at peace. Homework done for the rest of the week, you just showered, hair done, nails done. Two of your classes were cancelled tomorrow. Tomorrow was Friday. Life was great!
Just as you were about to reach for your box of graham crackers, your phone buzzed. Lighting up and alerting you that it was indeed eight PM and someone texted you.
brochacho: hi pretty, you at your dorm?
you: good evening, and yes i am.
brachacho: good. i’m downstairs. come get me!
Your hand froze mid‑reach for the graham crackers, eyes darting from the notification to the door like he might magically materialize through it.
Downstairs? Now?
You quickly typed back, thumbs flying:
you: what do you mean you’re downstairs???
The three dots appeared almost instantly.
brochacho: literally downstairs. in the lobby. come get me.
Your pulse jumped. This wasn’t a text saying “hope you’re good” or “goodnight.” This was him—physically here—while you sat in pajama shorts with a crumb in your hand and a streamer yelling about measurements on your laptop.
You scrambled up from the beanbag, nearly tripping over your blanket as you tried to get your bearings. Should you change? Brush your hair? Put on perfume? He hadn’t said why he was there. He hadn’t even asked if you were free.
Another buzz.
brochacho: don’t stress. i’m not kidnapping you. just wanted to see you before bed.
You swallowed, staring at the text like it might tell you what to do next. All you knew was your heart was hammering, and Riki Nishimura was in your lobby.
you: ok, give me a sec.
And without a second thought, you tidied your space. He’d never been here before, he only ever walked you to the building itself. You didn’t like surprise visits but shit, why not?
After folding your blankets and placing them on your bed, then spritzing some vanilla room spray, you held your racing heart. Taking deep breaths as you slipped on your baby pink crocs, grabbed your ID card, and deadbolted your door.
You stepped into the hallway, the carpet soft under your feet, and exhaled slowly. The fluorescent lights above hummed faintly, casting long shadows along the walls. You could hear faint laughter echoing from down the hall; the muffled bass of music drifting up from somewhere in the building. Your heart was still hammering like a drumline, and every step toward the staircase made it beat faster.
Sliding your ID into your pocket, you gripped the railing as you descended the narrow steps two at a time. Normally, you’d take it slow, careful not to rush, but tonight, nerves and excitement propelled you forward. You peeked through the stairwell window down into the lobby, spotting him almost immediately. Riki was leaning casually against the front desk, arms crossed as he scrolled on his phone, hood down and hair a little tousled from the walk. The soft light from the lobby ceiling brushed over his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the way his eyes seemed to catch the gleam from the floor’s polished tiles.
He glanced up, and that small, knowing smile spread across his lips, the one that made your stomach twist and flip like it was auditioning for gymnastics. His eyes scanned the stairwell, catching yours as soon as you emerged, and a tiny spark of mischief danced in them.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing pulse, adjusting the hem of your shirt like it would somehow make you appear composed instead of the jittery mess you felt like inside. The lobby seemed impossibly large all of a sudden, the echoes of your footsteps loud and exaggerated as you approached him. “What do you want?” You smiled as you reached in for a hug, how you always greeted each other.
He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “There’s that welcome wagon.” The vibrato of his voice rang through the lobby as it was muffled by your curls that always smelled like strawberries. “I come bearing gifts.”
You hummed, pulling back but letting your hands linger on his thin waist that you were beyond envious of. “Isn’t that considered love-bombing at this stage?”
He snorted, “yes, but it’s not really a gift.” He reached behind him for a blue crocheted bag and held it up with a bright smile. “I brought dinner. I made some and didn’t wanna eat alone.”
“Nice,” you laughed softly. “But where’d you get the bag from? One of your other twenty girlfriends?”
He rolled his eyes, “my baby sister likes to crochet and I stole it. Don’t tell her I said that.” He smirked, tucking the strap over his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world to stroll into your dorm with a handmade bag of food.
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head. “You made dinner? What, like, instant noodles level or are we talking chef Riki over here?”
He laughed, a low, warm sound that made your chest tighten. “I make a mean pasta salad.”
You nod to the staircase door. “Good enough,” the door clicked as you swiped your ID card over the receiver. Riki followed behind you, reaching above your head to open the door for you as he closed it behind him. “You made that in your dorm kitchens?”
He shook his head but it wasn’t like you could see him. “Nah, I don’t live on campus. I thought you knew.”
You paused mid-step, turning on the landing to look at him. “Wait, what? You don’t live here?”
Riki tilted his head, a little amused at your wide-eyed reaction. “Nope. I’ve got an apartment off-campus. Closer to the gym, less noise. Plus, dorm showers? Couldn’t do it anymore.” He made a face like the very idea offended him.
Your brows lifted as you kept climbing, crocs scraping against the concrete steps. “Hold on. You’ve been walking me back here all this time and then…what? Walking another fifteen minutes to your place?”
“Ten if I’m moving fast,” he corrected with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s not that deep.”
Finally you both made it to your dorm—a place he hasn’t seen. Only little parts via video call. You hesitated at your door. The reality of it hit you—Riki Nishimura was about to see your room. Not the polished corners you’d shown him over FaceTime, not the carefully angled shots that hid the mess, but the whole thing. Every detail.
Pushing the door open, you stepped aside to let him in first. He slipped past you without hesitation, and immediately the air felt heavier—his presence filling the small dorm like it was too much space for one person and not nearly enough for him.
His gaze roamed quickly but thoroughly. The string lights draped above your bed. The pile of books stacked on your desk. The blanket you’d folded too hastily, still a little crooked at the edges.
He didn’t say anything at first, just kicked his shoes off by the door where he saw you had two other pairs lined up.
Riki had some manners.
“Finally, I get to see the whole thing.” He looked at you then back to the space, looking at the wall covered with photos by your bed. These he also hadn’t seen.
Some of these were photos of you and your family. Seemingly at your high school graduation. You had changed a lot since then, just by the looks of it. Your eyes were a little duller, but you looked happy to be out of there. “Who’s that?” He pointed to the tall boy that stood next to you in the photo. Darker skin, hair pulled back into cornrows as he was dressed in very casual wear. Shorts and t-shirt for the hot weather you graduated in.
You approached, leaning forward so you could see what he was referencing. “Oh!” You snorted, “that’s my little Bother.”
“Your who?” Riki smiled as he turned to you.
“Bother,” you repeated with a grin, shaking your head. “That’s Elijah, my little brother. So—brother, bother…it stuck when we were kids.” You nodded. “And he actually grew into it because he became the biggest pain in my ass.”
Riki laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he glanced back at the photo. “He doesn’t look little at all. Dude’s towering over you.”
“Tell me about it,” you groaned, folding your arms. “He hit his growth spurt at, like, thirteen and never stopped.”
“How tall is he now?”
You tilted your head in thought. “Huh…I couldn’t even tell you how old he is.” You shrugged, bursting out into laughter as you grabbed the crocheted bag and sat on the floor. “But he’s around your height? Maybe a little shorter.”
He followed you down to the rug, sitting parallel to you and crossing his legs into butterfly position.
Riki leaned back on his palms, studying you with that amused little glint in his eyes. “So what you’re telling me is there’s another version of me out there, just younger and genetically programmed to annoy you?”
“Basically,” you said through a laugh, tugging the drawstrings of the bag open. “Except Elijah’s way louder, thinks he’s funnier than he is, and eats like he’s never seen food before.” You pulled out two plastic containers, setting them between you.
Riki snorted. “Sounds familiar. Pretty sure that’s just me with different branding.”
You shot him a look, biting back a grin. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself. He’s worse. But I think you two would get along, though.”
“You think so?” he chuckled, reaching forward to help you peel off the lid of one container. A soft aroma of herbs and parmesan filled the air.
Laughing, you grabbed the two plastic forks he put in the bag. Someone came very prepared. “I know so, actually…” Pause. “Nevermind.”
“No, no, tell me.” He said softly, unzipping his hoodie and placing it next to him. “I’d love to hear about your family.”
His tone made your stomach twist a little, but not enough for you to make him aware of the effect it had on you. “Elijah…” you snorted. “Actually wants to come to Decelis. You know…after he graduates high school?”
He nodded slowly, “okay? And that’s embarrassing?”
“Oh my gosh, no. No. Nothing about my brother is embarrassing, it’s just that…” You scrunched your nose as you twist your fork. “He’s a…big fan of yours.”
Riki blinked at you, mid-bite, his fork paused halfway to his mouth. “...A fan of mine?” His tone landed somewhere between amused and genuinely startled, his brows lifting as though he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or press you for details.
You dragged your fork through the pasta salad, trying to play it off, but the heat was already creeping up your neck. “Yeah, like…he likes college basketball a lot already but he thinks that me attending school with and being in the same year as one of the top prospects is cool.”
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Man, your brother’s got way too much faith in me. But…that means a lot. More than I’d probably admit to his face.” He takes a bite of the pasta.
“Woah…” you furrow your brows. “Since when do you doubt your skills? He’s not saying anything different than anyone else does.”
He chewed slowly, his gaze dropping to the plate as though your words weighed heavier than he expected. When he finally swallowed, his voice was softer, almost thoughtful. “It’s not that I don’t believe in what I can do,” he said, rolling his fork between his fingers. “I just…know how fast it can all go away. One bad game, one injury, and suddenly all that hype doesn’t mean anything.”
He lifted his eyes back to you, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a small smile that didn’t quite hide the seriousness in his tone. “So yeah, I guess I don’t let myself buy into it too much. Easier to laugh it off than start thinking I’m invincible, you know?”
As grateful as you were that Riki was sharing a very vulnerable part of him for the very first time, you couldn’t help but think of yourself—as self absorbed as that is. You were beyond normal. Yes, you had your hobbies, friends, interests. But you never even realized the amount of pressure that Riki underwent each and every day.
His every move was watched by strangers. There wasn’t a moment that you walked beside him on campus and someone wasn’t greeting him or trying to get his attention. Some people even started doing the same for you seeing as you were now semi-associated with him. That alone bugged you.
You let your fork rest against the edge of the container, your appetite forgotten for the moment. The realization pressed into you heavier than the warmth of the room—Riki didn’t just carry his own dreams; he carried the expectations of everyone watching him. And there were a lot of eyes.
It explained the careful way he handled himself, how even his jokes carried a twinge of deflection, how he managed to be approachable without ever letting people in too far. You’d brushed it off as confidence before, but now you saw the cracks. The weight of being Riki Nishimura wasn’t something you could ever fully understand, but sitting across from him, you suddenly wished you could take even a sliver of it off his shoulders.
You shifted slightly closer, nudging the pasta container between you. “You know…” you started carefully, trying not to make your words sound like pity, “I may not be able to relate to that but I want you to know as…someone who genuinely cares about you…” You huffed, looking up as you picked your words carefully. “That you are so beyond talented. Like have you seen you play?” You laughed, reaching out to hold his free hand. “The Kyrie comparisons are not far-fetched.”
For a moment, he just stared at your hand resting over his, fork frozen in mid-air again like he’d forgotten how to move. Then, slowly, the tension in his shoulders eased. His thumb brushed against your knuckles once, deliberate but subtle, almost as if he wasn’t sure he was allowed to.
“I mean it. You’re absolutely undeniable and while I can only imagine how much pressure is on you, I never want you to forget to live in the moment. Nor forget who you are in the process.”
For a beat, his gaze stayed locked on yours, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. The fork slipped quietly from his fingers, forgotten against the edge of the container. His hand stayed under yours though, warm and steady, like he was afraid to let go.
You gave his hand another squeeze, leaning in just a little closer. “Riki, you’re not just some highlight reel or a name on a scouting report. You’re…you. The guy who makes sure I eat, who shows up at my dorm with pasta salad in a crocheted bag, who can make me laugh even when I’m trying not to.” You smiled softly, your eyes searching his. “You’re already enough—more than enough—even without all the basketball.”
His jaw tightened, like he was fighting something inside himself, but his eyes softened. That little spark of mischief you were used to seeing in him wasn’t there this time—just something vulnerable, raw. And a tinge of something you could only identify as guilt. But you didn’t see how that could apply to this situation. You didn’t pry further.
Riki nodded, then smiled. It didn’t quite reach his eyes but he turned his hand beneath yours to grip it and brought it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Assuming this topic was just extremely touchy for him, you turned your hand to hold his cheek, lightly scratching his jaw. “No need for a ‘thank you.’”
His eyes fluttered shut at the touch, like the simple act unraveled something tight in his chest. He leaned into your palm, faint stubble barely grazing your fingertips as his breath steadied against your skin. When he opened his eyes again, there was a quiet earnestness in them that made your stomach flip. “You make me sound so…saint-like.”
You huffed out a laugh, shaking your head. “Trust me, that’s the last word I’d use for your dumbass.”
—
As the night went on, you and Riki found yourself on your bed.
Nothing intense, nothing extreme. It was a twin XL, what could you really do? But despite that, you two both found some old movie that you’d seen a million times to watch on your projector.
The movie washed your walls in soft flickers of light, the dialogue barely audible under the quiet hum of the projector. Riki stretched out beside you, one arm folded behind his head, the other lazily draped near your side like he was claiming space without meaning to. The bed was laughably small for two people, every shift making the springs creak, but neither of you complained.
At some point, you realized you weren’t even paying attention to the movie. Your cheek was pressed against his shoulder, his shirt soft under your skin, and his steady heartbeat beneath it was far more distracting than whatever was happening on screen.
“Hey,” Riki murmured after a while, his voice low, like even the characters on the screen didn’t need to hear. “Next time…you’re coming to my place. No offense to the twin XL, but it’s not exactly built for two.”
You snorted, scooting closer as you wrapped your arm around his waist and leg over his hips. Riki stiffened for half a second at the sudden weight of you practically curling into him, then melted into it, his arm sliding instinctively around your shoulders. A grin tugged at his lips as he tilted his head down to look at you. “Oh, so you like being close, huh? You could’ve just said that instead of pretending the bed was the problem.”
You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile tugging at your own mouth. “Please. I’m just making the best out of limited square footage.”
“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling you tighter against his side, his fingers idly tracing circles into your upper arm. His free hand ran up and down your bare thigh—the warmth in his hand nothing compared to what was in the room.
The slow drag of his palm along your thigh sent a ripple of heat through you, his touch unhurried but deliberate, like he knew exactly what he was doing. The movie faded further into background noise, some distant murmur you couldn’t even pretend to follow.
“You’re real quiet all of a sudden,” Riki teased, his breath brushing the top of your head. “What happened to all that smart talk about square footage?”
You tilted your chin up, lips twitching into a smirk despite the way your pulse betrayed you. “Maybe I’m conserving energy.”
“Oh?” His thumb pressed lightly into your skin before trailing higher, testing the waters. His eyes flicked down to yours, the grin on his face softening just enough to make your chest tighten. “Energy for what, baby?”
The space between you felt paper-thin, your leg hooked over his hip pulling him closer with every breath. His shirt smelled faintly of laundry detergent and something undeniably him—the citrus smell you always caught a whiff of, and suddenly the twin XL didn’t feel too small at all—it felt like it was forcing you into a choice.
His question lingered in the air, heavier than the blankets draped over you both. Your heart thudded against your ribs as if it were trying to answer for you. You tilted your face up toward him, close enough now that the glow of the projector painted his features in soft light—sharp jaw, lashes low but trained on you, lips just parted like he was waiting.
For a beat, neither of you moved. The hum of the movie filled the silence, but you barely registered it. Then, like gravity had made the choice for you, you leaned in.
Riki met you halfway.
The kiss was unhurried at first, his lips brushing yours in the lightest graze, as though he was testing to see if you’d pull away. But you didn’t—you pressed back, your hand sliding up to curl into his shirt near his chest. That was all the confirmation he needed. His grip at your thigh tightened, pulling you closer, angling you so there was no space left between you.
The kiss deepened almost naturally, like you’d both been holding your breath for weeks and finally let go. His hand slid higher on your thigh, steady but not rushed, while your fingers tugged lightly at the collar of his shirt, urging him closer. The twin bed creaked beneath the shifting weight, the closeness of it all making your pulse race.
Riki angled his head, mouth moving against yours with a hunger that surprised even him—like he’d been trying to starve this part of himself and finally gave in. Your hand brushed along his jaw, thumb grazing the faint stubble there, and he made a sound low in his throat that only pulled you deeper into him. He leaned up, turning to hover over you halfway, springs of the bed whining at the action.
But then—just as the air between you turned sharp with heat—he stilled. His lips slowed, then parted from yours, lingering close enough that you could still feel his breath ghost across your mouth. His hand fell from your thigh to rest limply against the sheets, no longer holding you.
“Riki?” you whispered, confusion threading your tone.
He didn’t look away, though something flickered in his eyes—something heavy, almost mournful. He managed a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach as far as it should. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough around the edges. “Got a little carried away.”
You searched his face, wanting to ask more, but the way his thumb brushed over your arm—gentle, reassuring—kept you quiet. He wasn’t shutting you out, not really, but whatever sat on his chest wasn’t something he was ready to spill. “Did something happ—”
Instead, he shook his head and pressed the lightest kiss to your temple, grounding, soft. “No, no, no, baby.” he said softly as the two of you were nearly nose-to-nose. “Nothing happened…” He smiled softly as he brushed a curl from your cheek, lightly letting his thumb brush on your lower lip. “Just…didn’t wanna ruin the moment, that’s all.”
Your lips parted, ready to argue, to tell him he could never ruin a moment like this—but the way he looked at you stopped the words in your throat. There was a tenderness there, threaded with something heavier, something you didn’t dare press on in case it shattered the fragile quiet between you.
So instead, you nodded faintly, your forehead brushing his as your breath mingled in the inch of space left between you. “You can…” you whispered, though your chest ached with the weight of everything unspoken.
Riki’s hand left your lip to cup your cheek, his thumb smoothing over your skin like he was memorizing the shape of you. His smile lingered—gentle, almost apologetic—but his eyes softened in a way that made you feel like he saw you, really saw you, beneath all the noise.
He shifted, pressing another kiss to your hairline this time, lingering just long enough that you felt the sincerity tucked into it. “You want me to?”
It seemed like every inch of you was melting into this old, creaky bed. That your literal bodily matter could act as a substitute for WD-40 if you both stayed like this. You’ve experienced intimate moments. Moments that made everything blur into background noise. And right now you heard nothing. Absolutely nothing despite the flickering projector and the soundtrack to the ending of 10 Things I Hate About You playing lightly. Yet all you heard was the pick up of your heart rate in your ears. And maybe your own breath. Despite that, you nodded without another word.
Riki leaned in slowly, kissing your cheek. Letting his pillowy lips get a different taste of you as his hand toys with your small hoop earring on your opposite ear. His touch was maddeningly careful, like he was savoring every second before it slipped away. His lips brushed along your jawline, feather-light, leaving a trail of warmth that had your breath hitching in your throat.
You tilted your head instinctively, giving him more space, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring yourself. Each kiss was deliberate, patient—not hungry like before, but reverent, like he was mapping you in a language only he knew.
He lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Um…I was planning something for this but—” He let out a shaky laugh, his thumb brushing your cheek like he needed the grounding. “I feel like it’s something that I don’t want to hold out on anymore.” He cleared his throat, his eyes darting from yours to the pillow, then back again like the words were fighting him on the way out. “I was gonna do this all different—make it special, not, y’know, while we’re half-squished on a squeaky bed watching a rom-com—but…”
His hand dropped from your earring to rest gently against your chest, right over your racing heartbeat. “But I can’t sit here and pretend I don’t already know what I want.” He paused, breath unsteady. “I want you. As my girlfriend.”
The room went impossibly still, the hum of the projector fading behind the weight of his words. His voice cracked a little on the last word, like even saying it out loud cost him something. His thumb slowed against your collarbone, tracing nothing in particular, a small, restless circle. He was still looking at you—not cocky, not teasing—just wide-eyed, waiting. The guy who could command a whole court with one look suddenly couldn’t seem to breathe until you spoke.
“I’m not talking to anyone else,” he added softly, like a confession he’d been holding onto. “Haven’t been. Haven’t even wanted to. I just…don’t wanna assume anything about you. I don’t wanna ruin what we already have.”
The way he said it was so un-Riki—tentative, careful—that it almost broke your heart. You could feel his pulse under your palm where you still held his hoodie, just as erratic as yours.
You didn’t even realize you were smiling until you were; the kind of smile that cracked you open from the inside out. “Riki…” you murmured, sliding your hand up to the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”
His brows pinched, nervous. “In a good way or…?”
“In a way where the answer’s already yes,” you said, your forehead brushing his. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”
The tension bled out of him in an instant, his breath catching on a laugh that sounded like relief. He pressed his forehead fully to yours, eyes closing, and let out a long, shaky exhale before kissing you—slow this time, smiling against your mouth.
—
Four months later
—
Life has been very weird for you. Not weird, weird. Just different. Good different.
Your skin is clear, grades stellar, Yasmin, Bella, and Riki were in one piece and the weather has been decent.
Dating Riki hadn’t turned your life upside down the way you thought it might. It wasn’t all fireworks and Instagram-worthy grand gestures. Instead, it was quieter things—the way he reminded you to eat between classes, the way his hoodie always “accidentally” ended up in your laundry pile, the way his laugh sounded different when it was just for you.
And somewhere between late-night study sessions and those walks across an ice-slick campus, you realized: this wasn’t weird at all. This was the new normal. And, surprisingly? You liked it.
A relationship with Riki was nothing like you thought it’d be. In some way he was right, you didn’t really know him.
“Public, but private” wasn’t really the right phrase anymore. Riki made sure people knew—he held your hand in the quad, kissed you goodbye outside lecture halls, and didn’t even flinch when Yasmin pulled out her phone to record the two of you bickering like an old married couple. Everyone knew you were his, and he was yours.
But still, the most meaningful parts weren’t the ones out loud. Sure, he’d tug you into his lap at parties without caring who saw, but it was the softer moments—the way he’d tie your scarf tighter against the cold, or slide his coffee across the table without asking because he knew you needed it—that stuck with you most.
Dating Riki wasn’t about hiding or flaunting. It was about existing together, naturally, in public and in private, like there’d never been a time you weren’t in each other’s lives.
Obviously, your bond with him was different than that of yours with Yasmin and Bella’s. Of course because you weren’t romantic with the girls but the friendship aspect wasn’t the same.
Yasmin and Bella were akin to sisters. Their love and friendship was unconditional, unwavering and greatly enough—you met them at freshman orientation and had been inseparable ever since.
The funny little traditions you had. Getting breakfast together every day, even if it was just coffee and a bagel wolfed down before an eight AM class. Your group FaceTimes that always started as study sessions but somehow devolved into debating which professor was most likely to secretly live in the library. Movie nights in Yasmin’s dorm where Bella inevitably fell asleep twenty minutes in, curled up like it was her own personal bed.
With Yasmin and Bella, it was easy, almost familial—like home in human form. With Riki, it was…different. Not better, not worse. Just its own kind of important. He didn’t fit into the category of “friend” or “family.” He was the exception. The outlier that made sense.
Riki was an exception. And you noticed that in almost every avenue he occupied that he was an exception. In anything he put effort toward, he had this sort of competitive spirit that he wanted to be a person that was remembered. Not in a loud, look-at-me way, but in the way he showed up, consistently, like he was determined to leave a mark. On the court, in class, even in the way he memorized the little things about you—your coffee order, your weird habit of doodling stars in the margins of your notes, the fact that you hated the word “moist” enough to dramatically gag every time someone said it.
Being with him didn’t feel like you were keeping up with a storm or chasing after someone out of reach. It felt like he wanted you right there, beside him.
Your mom called it the honeymoon phase and that very well may be true. But like everything with Riki, you tried to live in the moment. Which is bizarre seeing as you overthink everything else.
Lately, the girls have been getting used to seeing him around a lot more. While Riki never wanted to overtake your life nor take time away from your friends, he at times found himself getting cool with them as well.
The girls and you stood at the waffle station like usual. Bella, as always, was overseeing the operation. Yasmin was yapping about something related to the bad Wattpad movie she watched last night.
“Dude,” you smiled. “What are you waffling about?” You nudge her with your elbow, snickering as you cover your mouth.
Yasmin froze, looking at you blankly. “You did not—”
“—yes, she did,” Bella cut in, shaking her head with mock disappointment. “Every morning, a new low.”
“Hey! Don’t hate me ‘cause I’m beautiful.” You snorted as you reached around her to grab the mini cups for the syrup. The pounds of syrup that Yasmin liked drenching her waffles in.
The brunette laughed, “we love you because you’re beautiful. But that shit just wasn’t funny.”
You sigh and wrap your arm around the girl, to which she instinctively rests her head on your shoulder, wrapping her arm around your waist. “You guys are fun-suckers.”
Bella snorted, already halfway through pouring batter into the waffle iron. “Please. We’re the only reason you’re tolerable before ten AM.”
You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “You wound me.”
“Good,” she said dryly, snapping the iron shut like she was sealing a deal. “Maybe it’ll stop the puns.”
Yasmin cackled at that, pulling back from your shoulder just enough to look you in the eye. “Nah, she thrives off this. You’d have to physically mute her.”
“Don’t tempt me,” Bella muttered, reaching for her coffee.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. The three of you moved like clockwork—Bella in charge of batter, you in charge of toppings, Yasmin handling the syrup like it was an Olympic sport. The waffle station wasn’t glamorous, but it was your spot. The one ritual you kept no matter how busy the semester got.
That’s when you felt a familiar hand snake around your waist from behind. Riki leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Did I miss roll call, or are you guys planning breakfast without me again?”
Bella groaned without even looking up. “Speak of the devil.”
Riki gently turned you around to face him, taking the toppings from your grip as he leans in. “Hi baby,” placing his lips on yours gently as he moved a hand to rest on your jaw. His thumb grazing your cheek as you reciprocate. “Mm! I missed that.”
You felt your cheeks warm instantly, caught off guard by how easily he could do that—just walk into your morning routine and make everything tilt a little. You tasted the faint sweetness of syrup on his lips, the smell of his cologne cutting through the waffle-station chaos.
“Riki,” you murmured against his mouth, a laugh caught in your throat. “You’re gonna make Yasmin drop the syrup.”
“I already did,” Yasmin deadpanned, though when you turned your head she was smirking. “Don’t mind me. Continue your public display of affection.”
Bella groaned dramatically, flipping a waffle with more force than necessary. “Please, at least let me finish cooking before you two start fucking next to the chocolate chips.”
Riki chuckled against your cheek, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “They’re jealous,” he whispered, his thumb still brushing your jaw. “Let them be jealous.”
You swatted at his chest lightly, though your grin betrayed you. “Please,”
And finally, the four of you sat at your usual corner table—Riki having tagged along like it was the most natural thing in the world. The dining hall buzzed with the Monday morning chaos of clinking trays and half-awake chatter, but somehow, your table felt like its own little bubble.
Riki slid into the booth beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table, and immediately stole one of your strawberries without shame. You were used to it. Him stealing your food; like a tax, if you will.
“So what are y’all doing with your weekends?” You hum as you watch Riki cut your half of the waffle into pieces.
He perked up mid-cut, glancing at you with that spark in his eyes that always came out when basketball got brought up. “Ooh, we’re having an away game on Thursday,” he said, the words already carrying a hint of excitement. “It’s at Syracuse, so we’ll be gone for like…two nights, maybe three depending on how long Coach decides to torture us.”
Yasmin and Bella roll their eyes simultaneously. “Dude, ‘Cuse is the worst.” Bella sighed as she slumped back into her chair.
“You’re just a big ball of positivity this morning.” Riki hums as he feeds you a piece of waffle. Hovering his hand below it to catch any syrup that might’ve dripped onto his hand.
You accept the food and nod, speaking through your chewing as you cover your mouth with your hand. “Yeah, what’s up with you? You’ve been acting like a buttmunch all morning.”
Bella groaned, stabbing at her strawberries like they’d personally wronged her. “I’m sorry guys, I just really don’t wanna go to that fucking game.”
Riki wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to his side as he leaned back into the cushiony seat. “‘Cuse is not that bad. They play dirty but that’s nothing we can’t get around.”
“Dirty?” You looked at him in confusion.
“Yeah,” Yasmin nodded as she sipped her apple juice. “Last season, they fouled one of the guys—Nicholas—so hard. He went for a layup and they shoved him. Fractured his wrist. It was crazy, I felt so bad.”
Your brows lifted, “no way. Did the ref even call it?”
“They did,” Riki sighed. “But at that point, what can you do? You suspend a player, he’s on the bench for the rest of the season—fine. But one of our players is benched indefinitely, has to go to PT for his wrist, he may not play the same, whatever—it was just so much worse for Nico.” He rolled his eyes as he recounted the events of the past. Stirring anger in his stomach as he remembers watching that happen.
Bella shook her head. “Yeah, it was bad. It wasn’t like a life-altering injury or anything but it was so shitty on Syracuse’s part.”
“Well…what are you guys gonna do?” You sigh as you rested your hand on Riki’s muscly thigh and leaned your head on his shoulder.
Yasmin chimed in, “not much. There’s nothing we can do. I mean, their cheer team isn’t really a problem. They’re always super nice. It’s just the fuckass team that gives these guys issues.” She nods to Riki.
“So when do you guys leave?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Bella brought a raspberry to her mouth to chew, looking down at the threading of her skirt—her chewing halts suddenly. “Wait…”
Yasmin smiles brightly, “don’t. Because if we’re thinking the same thing then I’m for it.”
“Oh, we are thinking the same thing,” Bella said, setting her fork down with a little clink. “Babes, you should so come with us!”
You nearly choked on your drink. “Wait, what?” you coughed, slapping the table with your free hand. “You’re inviting me to Syracuse?”
Bella leaned forward, eyes sparkling with that dangerous “I have a terrible idea” kind of excitement. “Think about it. Road trip! We have to cheer anyway, eat gas station snacks, complain about hotel beds—”
“—get screamed at by Syracuse fans and possibly catch another stray basketball to the face,” You interrupted, waving her fork. “Yeah, super fun.”
Riki smacked his teeth. “Don’t even joke about shit like that.”
Bella laughed, flicking a crumb at him. “Relax, Captain Protective. She’s not gonna get decked by a ball again.”
“I’m not opposed to her coming.” Riki clarified, “obviously. But we all get to ride on the team bus, why would you waste your own gas?”
Yasmin grinned, already scheming. “Because we’re not on the team, genius. We’re with cheer, which means we have to take the spirit bus.”
Riki’s expression twisted. “The spirit bus? The one that smells like glitter and spray tan?”
You furrowed your brows as you leaned away from him, letting his arm fall back on the seat. “How do you know what the spirit bus smells like?” You ask him with suspicion—even mildly irritated.
Riki froze, eyes flicking toward you like a kid caught stealing snacks before dinner. “Huh?” he stalled, fork halfway to his mouth. “I mean…I’ve heard things.”
Bella immediately perked up, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Heard things, huh? Or experienced things?”
Riki set his fork down, leaning forward defensively. “Okay, first of all, I was on there one time. One time. Coach made me grab the banner they left behind after homecoming, and it was like stepping into Candyland.”
You raised an unimpressed brow. “Mhm. So what you’re telling me is that you voluntarily stepped foot on the cheer bus, alone, to grab a banner.”
He pointed at you, shaking his head. “Don’t do that tone thing. It wasn’t like that.”
You squinted at him, “I’m not doing anything.”
“Ooh…” Yasmin murmured to Bella. “Boyfriend in trouble…” She sang as she shimmied her shoulders.
Riki smiled nervously, eyes darting between you and your two grinning friends. “No, no—don’t let her fool you. She’s trying to make this sound like some scandalous cheer bus rendezvous when I was literally in there for thirty seconds.”
Bella gasped dramatically. “Thirty seconds? That’s all it takes.” Yasmin nearly spit out her juice laughing. You pressed your lips together, trying to look serious but failing miserably as Riki’s ears started turning red. “Wow. I thought you’d last longer than that.”
Riki raised his brows in surprise. “Don’t get cute, baby.” He smiles as he feeds you a grape.
Yasmin and Bella gagged dramatically at the sight but decided to move on. The blonde grinned, leaning across the table. “Admit it, you were curious. You wanted to see how the other half lives.”
“The other half smells like hair spray and glitter glue!” Riki protested, groaning as you finally let out a giggle. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
You rested your chin on your palm, smirking up at him. “Maybe. It’s cute when you get defensive.”
“You,” He smiled as he pointed at you. “Are evil.”
You gasped in mock offense. “Evil? I prefer ‘charming,’ thank you very much.”
Riki leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms but fighting a smile. “Yes, mama—you are very charming but I’d rather you say like messing with me.”
You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Maybe. But you make it so easy.”
Bella snorted. “Yeah, she’s got you wrapped around her finger, dude. It’s kind of embarrassing.”
Riki threw her a flat look. “You’re just mad ‘cause your waffles are hard as frisbees.”
“They were abstract,” Bella countered, stabbing one with her fork. “Fuck you, they’re still edible.”
Yasmin laughed so hard she nearly choked on her juice. “Yeah, okay, Picasso.”
You watched the three of them bicker, warmth flooding your chest. Riki didn’t just fit in with your friends anymore—he belonged there, like he’d always been part of the picture. The ease of it all made your heart do that stupid little flip it did whenever you realized how much you liked this boy.
—
Later that day
—
After some relenting, you decided to come with the girls to the game. It didn’t take much convincing.
But even then, something felt amiss.
Ironically, the day that Riki accidentally knocked you in the face with that ball—it unlocked some type of sixth sense. One where you could just feel, when your left cheek throbbed—that something was about to go left.
Yasmin and Bella were making their way off the court and into the arena hallway. Practice was over and they were headed to the locker room to freshen up. As usual, Yasmin was buzzing, Bella was limping. How she hasn’t just quit the team yet, none of you know.
As the girls guzzled water, they heard commotion coming from the men’s locker room. The sound was the usual post-practice banter. Laughter, some music echoing off the tile.
And for some reason, this was the one time the girls decided to be nosy. The guys were pumped after their own practice—adrenaline and testosterone running rapidly through the air. Towels were slung low on hips, sneakers squeaking against the wet tile, music blaring from someone’s speaker. The room smelled like victory and cheap body spray.
“Yo, Riki, be honest,” one of them called out through the steam, “you and that girl—what’s the deal?”
Riki, mid-laugh, froze with a water bottle halfway to his mouth. “What girl?” he asked, but the grin tugging at his lips already betrayed him.
“Oh, don’t play dumb,” another chimed in. “The one that’s always waiting after practice. The one with the big eyes. Cute face?”
The guys erupted into hollers and mock ‘oohs.’ Riki shook his head, trying—and failing—to bite back a smile.
Outside the door, Yasmin and Bella’s jaws practically hit the floor.
Yasmin whispered, “Oh, we are so not supposed to be hearing this,” but she leaned in closer anyway.
Bella, deadpan, muttered, “You mean you’re not supposed to. I’m locked in.”
You’d just arrived at the end of the hall when you saw them crouched near the door like undercover agents.
“...What are you guys doing?” you whispered.
Both girls whipped around, wide-eyed, trying and failing to look innocent. Yasmin gestured frantically. “Shh! He’s talking about you!”
And just like that, your stomach dropped—and your left cheek started to throb again. You dropped your backpack to the floor as you crouched next to the girls. Stabling yourself against Yasmin as you held her shoulders.
Maki leaned against the opposite lockers, facing Riki with a smirk. “So you get any action yet?”
Riki scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned to his locker—grabbing a clean towel to wipe his bare chest. “Is pussy all you guys think about?”
Some of the guys laughed, Maki included. “Well yeah, sometimes. Especially if I’ve got a girl and she hasn’t put out in the few months we’ve been together.” He whistles, antagonizing the point guard. “I hoped you’d score more than that.”
Yasmin’s eyes widened so hard you thought they might fall out of her head. Bella smacked her arm, whisper-yelling, “Oh my god, he did not just say that—”
You didn’t even breathe. Every muscle in your body went rigid, eyes fixed on the thin crack of light between the door and the frame.
Inside, Riki let out a dry laugh, low and humorless. “You don’t know what I do, dumbass. Who do you think I am?”
If there was one thing that you knew about men, it was that it only took but so much to make them crack. They were easy. Toy with them, keep them on their toes. And you prided yourself on knowing Riki.
His quirks like touching a doorframe before walking through. Scratching his jaw when he was irritated.
But you certainly knew his type: you. Because he told you. He made sure you knew through his words but action as well. He likes someone that he can upkeep a rapport with. A fun personality and a sharp mouth to match his. Someone who could keep up with him in a room full of noise, toss a jab back when he threw one first. You’d always joked that you were built to spar with him, not swoon over him.
It amazed you, really. Because narrowing down the versions of Riki you saw, you knew that there was one side that you’d experienced up until this point wouldn’t make an appearance. The nasty, egotistical one.
Your cheek throbbed again.
“I think you’re better than this.” Maki laughed. “You’re whipped.” Snorting as he grabbed his towel to swipe Riki with it as the rest of the team followed. Spanking him with their towels as all of them shared laughs—Riki included.
“Hey! Hey hey hey!” He straightened up as he shrunk into himself before. Laughing as he nudged the guys off. “I’m not whipped! Okay? You really think the Riki Nishimura, basketball extraordinaire is whipped?” He says dramatically, as if he’s some king giving a royal decree.
“Oh fuck…” Yasmin mumbled to herself in panic, hand feeling for yours as she gripped it tightly.
But Riki kept going. “All these girls are the same, Maki.” He smiled—slickly, as he got closer to the shorter lowerclassmen. “Just another hole to fill and if you think I can’t get any then you’re as dumb as you look.” Riki’s eyes scanned the younger as he poked his forehead. “Let Big Bro show you something.”
You froze. Your stomach dropped into your shoes, and your left cheek throbbed—not just from the memory of the ball, but from the words echoing across the locker room.
Yasmin’s grip on your hand tightened like she was trying to anchor both of you to reality. “Nope. Nope. Nope,” she whispered, her eyes wide.
Bella’s jaw had practically hit the floor, a mix of disbelief and shock frozen on her face. “What the fuck?”
You didn’t even let yourself finish the thought. Riki’s swaggering smirk, the way he leaned over the younger guy, his words sliding out like they were rehearsed, hit you harder than any basketball ever could. This wasn’t the playful, teasing Riki you knew. This was calculated, confident, and…something darker. Something that felt like a stranger pretending to be the man you loved.
“Show me what? How to not get play?” Maki shook his head with a laugh. “You’re not that guy, trust me.”
“I’ll just keep doing what I’ve been doing.” Riki shrugged, “fucking around and winning.”
Your stomach twisted. That laugh—the arrogance—it didn’t belong to the Riki you knew, the one who kissed and touched you like the prize you were, who stole your kiwi, who teased you just enough to make you laugh. This version was a performance. And part of you hated that you even recognized it, that it was still so convincingly him.
Yasmin leaned closer, whispering in your ear, “We should go…now.” Her hand squeezed yours like she was trying to pull both of you back to safety.
You hesitated, eyes glued to Riki. He was laughing now, tossing the younger guy a smirk like it was all a game. The energy was intoxicating, magnetic, but it made your chest feel tight. You wanted to call him out, to make him stop—but at the same time, you were frozen, caught somewhere between anger, disbelief, and the part of you that still loved him fiercely.
Yasmin’s voice broke through again, urgently. “Seriously, we’re leaving before this gets worse.” But how could it?
You let her tug you gently, glancing back at Riki one last time. His grin was still there, but now it was softer, more familiar. And somehow, that made your chest ache even more, caught between relief and frustration.
—
The three ended up in Bella’s dorm, which was the closest to the arena. You knew you couldn’t make it all the way to your dorm without breaking down.
Once the door clicked shut behind you, the chaos of the arena felt miles away. The muffled sounds of the men’s locker room were replaced by the faint hum of the radiator and the soft creak of the dorm floorboards. Yasmin dropped onto Bella’s bed with a dramatic groan, clutching her water bottle like it was a life preserver.
You sank onto the edge, hands pressed to your face as you tried to steady your breathing. The image of Riki—the conceited, dark version of him—kept flashing in your mind. It wasn’t that you doubted him. You knew him. You thought you did. But that side, that…performative dominance? It was a reminder that there were layers of him you hadn’t touched, weren’t sure you ever would. And then the floodgates came down.
Grabbing one of her pillows, you buried your face as sobs racked through your chest. Yasmin and Bella froze for a moment, exchanging a glance that said without words: do we intervene, or give her a second?
Yasmin was the first to react, gently kneeling beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Hey…hey, it’s okay,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm. “Breathe. Just breathe.”
You couldn’t stop the shaking, couldn’t stop the tears that spilled into the pillow. “I…he’s…he’s not just…he’s…” Your words stumbled and fractured, barely audible. The part of you that tried to rationalize, to ground yourself in months of trust and tenderness with Riki, felt useless against the image of the stranger-like version of him.
Bella joined in, kneeling on the other side and grabbing your hands gently. “I got you,” she said simply. “We’ve got you. Nothing he did—or who he was being in there—changes the fact that we’re gonna be here for you every step of the way.”
Your body trembled against them, the sobs coming in uneven waves. Yasmin rested her chin on your shoulder, humming softly like she had when you were a kid after a nightmare. Bella squeezed your hands, her eyes warm but steady. Together, they anchored you, a living reminder that the world wasn’t just Riki and his shadows.
After what felt like an eternity, the sobs slowed. Your chest heaved as you tried to suck in air, finally lifting your face from the pillow to see their concerned, gentle expressions. “I…thank you,” you whispered, your voice raw. “I just…I knew it, bro.” You punched your palm in frustration. “My parents fucking told me.” Your voice wavered as warm tears ran down your face. “I should’ve listened to my fucking gut!”
Yasmin’s arms tightened around you, her voice steady despite the worry in her eyes. “Hey, hey…shh. No blaming yourself. None of this is on you.” She rubbed small circles into your shoulder, comforting you like she always did.
Bella nodded firmly, her grip on your hands unyielding. “Exactly. You’re not responsible for him being…whatever that was. You’ve been trusting, you’ve been patient—that’s all you could do. And yeah, maybe your gut had warnings, but you didn’t listen—so what? You’re a human being.”
You pressed your face back into the pillow, muffling a sob, but the two of them stayed right there, unwavering. The warmth from Yasmin on one side, Bella on the other, felt like the only solid ground in a storm that had your world tilting.
“Hey.” Bella continues firmly, bringing your face up to look at her. Her blue eyes locking with your own eyes. “Fuck that guy. If he wants to speak about you in such a disgusting, deplorable way to stroke his own ego—by all means. But that doesn’t make or break you. It only says something—everything—about him.”
You blinked through the tears, letting her words sink in, heavy and grounding all at once. The anger bubbling in your chest mingled with the ache, a strange but familiar cocktail. “Yeah…yeah, you’re right,” you murmured, your voice cracking slightly. “It’s not me. It’s…him.”
Yasmin squeezed your shoulder, her grip firm, unyielding. “Exactly. And we’re not letting that bullshit stick to you. He can act like a fool all he wants—doesn’t change who you are, or what you deserve.”
Bella gave a small, almost fierce smile, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “You are not defined by what some guy tries to pull, okay? Not Riki, not Maki, not anyone. You’re solid. You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re a fucking—you’re absolutely stunning. A smoke show. And—fuck it—you’re ours. And we don’t let anyone talk down to our girl.”
You let out a shaky laugh, more release than humor, leaning into their warmth. “I—I just…God, I hate that it stings.”
“And it will,” Yasmin said softly, but firmly. “For a second, for a day, maybe even a week. But that’s fine. You feel it, then we leave it there. You don’t have to deal with it alone. Not now, not ever.”
The room fell quiet for a moment, save for your uneven breaths and the soft hum of the radiator. And in that silence, you realized something—this wasn’t just comfort. This was armor. Solid, unbreakable, built of friendship and love that no locker room bravado could ever touch. And instead of making you feel some sense of support, love, security—it sent the wrath of the devil through you.
The signs were there from the beginning, the chasing, the bombarding his way into your life. The hesitance during the first kiss. The trying so hard to make you like him then laying it on thick—it was all right in front of you.
You let him encroach on your girl time—the fact that you even let him get close to the two most important people in your life felt like betrayal in itself. Like you handed him the keys to your sanctuary and he just stomped through it.
Blows to your pride were something you didn’t take lightly and this was something you couldn’t just swallow.
What about your feelings? What about the other, maybe, dozens of girls he’d used like a tissue and tossed to the bin?! You were sick and tired of seeing so many girls and women—people—fall victim to assholes like Riki Nishimura.
Just another hole? Fine. You need retribution. And you need it now.
Heat turned to ice in your veins and something in you snapped neat and clean—not a sob this time, not a plea. A cold, focused fury rose up, quiet and terrible. You didn’t want a meltdown anymore.
“I’m going to ruin his life.” You mumbled to yourself as your jaw clicked. “I’m going to make him wish he never met me.”
Yasmin and Bella froze, giving each other looks. Before Yasmin spoke up, “hey…” She cleared her throat. “Let’s ease up, okay? You’re upset and—”
You sit up straight, getting up from the bed as you angrily paced back and forth. “No. I’m fucking livid. I mean who does this dickhead think he is?! Me?! Nothing but a fucking hole to fuck when he’s the one that damn near—no—begged me to even talk to him?”
As the two girls looked at you, both of their expressions differed. Yasmin, like always, led with her heart. Her gentle features framed by her curtain bangs, she was always the one to consider someone before anything. The friend that would give her last meal if it meant you ate. The person that would sit on the phone with you for hours just to hear you vent if it meant that it’d help you.
Bella led with her brain. Her wavy hair was out of her face, wearing her emotions for you to see plainly. She had such a knack for getting the both of you out of sticky, overthink-y situations. She’d tell you when you were being ridiculous but would dive in the deep end with you if you so chose. And yet, they looked at you just as one would expect.
Yasmin was on the verge of tears herself, her eyes brimming as her lips pouted. Seeing you this unhinged was so beyond her and she shook her head, looking down at her own hands.
Bella was locked, though. Her sharp features rested calmly though her jaw was set. Which made sense. Someone does something outrageous, she’s upset. That makes sense.
“Okay,” she said finally, her voice steady in that way that made you want to either hug her or throw something. “Then what’s the plan, genius? You gonna torch his car? Leak something? Because as much as I’d love to see that boy panic for once in his life, I think you want something smarter than that.”
Her calmness only made your pulse pound harder. You wanted movement. Consequence. You wanted Riki’s name to taste like ash in every mouth that said it. But even as the fury roared, Bella’s words dug in—she wasn’t dismissing you. She was challenging you to make it count.
Yasmin stood, wiping under her eyes and grabbing your arm gently. “You’re hurt, dude. Like, badly. And that’s okay. But if you do something you can’t take back, you’ll regret it—and he’ll still win. You’re better than this. Don’t stoop to his level.”
“Or what, Yas? Just let him give me his ass to kiss?” You shrugged, laughing humorlessly. “I—”
“Dude, just break up with him! Call it quits. But you don’t have to try to ruin his entire—”
“Look,” Bella stood up as she chimed in. “In some way, Yas is right. While I’d love to see his life ruined—stooping lower doesn’t exactly do you any favors. Because then what? Guys get off easy, you know that. You’d just be the bitter, scorned lover and would have an entire fan base and university hate you. Is it worth that?” She said carefully.
You stared at her like she’d just said something in another language. “So I’m supposed to just…what? Move on? Pretend he didn’t just violate like that?”
Bella exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No. I’m saying—you play it smart. He wants you to be emotional. He wants drama because it makes him look composed. Don’t give him that. If you’re gonna do some shit then just know that I don’t condone it. But…” She pursed her lips as she cleared her throat. “I’m down. What are we doing?”
Yasmin looks at Bella like she has three heads. “Are we being serious right now?” Then looking back at you. “Hello? Am I speaking a language you don’t understand? Just dump the guy, it’s not worth it—I’m telling you!” She held your arms as she looked at you—pleading. “You may be hot now but I’m telling you —mark my words—you will regret it.”
“Then let me,” you shrug, “look, I’m not gonna kill him or anything.”
Yasmin blinked, her nostrils flaring as she loosened her grip on your arms. Leaning back as she let out a breath. “…Fine. But I still vote you dump him and skip the theatrics. I do not want to be in a courtroom later.”
“Oh stop it, Yasmin.” Bella smacked her teeth as she waved her off. “She’s just going to fuck with him a little probably.”
“Exactly,” you nod. “I have ideas…but I’m not gonna break up with him.” You smiled deviously, “I’m just going to throw him off his game.”
—
“Are you sure you don’t wanna come, mama?” Riki frowned as he stood by his apartment door.
The Syracuse game was tomorrow and the basketball and cheer teams were leaving in t-minus one hour. Since both your friends and Riki invited you to come along, you figured you’d stay behind. For obvious reasons.
“I’m sure, baby.” You sighed as you leaned against the door. “I have a presentation for my Ethics class that I’ve hardly started. I gotta lock in.”
The tall man nudged his suitcase away, “are you sure? You’re more than welcome to come.” He steps forward, grabbing your hands as he kisses them. Making his way up your wrists and it took everything in you not to vomit in your mouth. “You know I play better with you there.”
“Sorry, but I really can’t. If I miss this deadline, I could fail. It’s a major assignment.” You shrug a shoulder. “You know how it is…”
Riki nods, “I do, mama, you know I do.” He pouts as he lets go of your arm and pulls you into a hug. “Well…” He exhales dramatically. “I’ll miss you. And I left you the key and my card on the counter. The place is yours.” He leaned down to peck your lips to which you reciprocated. Kissing Riki at this juncture contested your morals. Half of you felt bitter, the other sweet. That the recollection of his words then and now threw you for a loop. You battled with hating him with your brain but loving him with your body.
You cupped his face as you tilted your head into the kiss. Lips gliding across his as smacking reverberated throughout the quiet pad. He hummed into the exchange as his hands rested on your ribcage, just below your breasts. Sliding down to your waist but you pulled back before he got any ideas.
“I’ll call you. I wanna hear all about your night, okay?” Riki kissed your knuckles again like he was sealing a promise and then he was gone—suitcase rolling, keys jangling, the door shutting with that small finality that suddenly made the apartment feel way too big. You stood there an extra beat, breathing out the sight of him walking away down the hall, feeling that weird cocktail of relief and venom fizz in your gut.
You locked the door and immediately got to work. You started with something simple.
Going to the fridge, you shuffled through the fridge for his protein shakes and green juices. And without a second thought did you gather them all along the counter.
You lined every bottle up like little soldiers about to meet their maker. Vanilla whey, chocolate whey, matcha greens, the ominous “superfuel” one that smelled like spinach and dirt. Every one of them—fuel for his precious pregame routine, the routine he swore by. The same routine he’d bragged about perfecting since middle school.
You grabbed the first bottle.
Twist, breaking the seal with a crack. Pour. Down the sink it went, a depressing brown waterfall glug-glug-glugging into the drain.
It felt like sex.
You didn’t stop there. One by one, you emptied every single drink. Protein? Gone. Greens? Gone. That weird probiotic mango kefir he always insisted “was life-changing?” Down the pipes like it was nothing.
By bottle five, you were humming. By bottle nine, you were laughing. By bottle thirteen, you were leaning your weight on the counter like, wow, I’m actually unwell. But oh, it felt good.
When you were done, the counter looked like a crime scene. Caps everywhere. Empty bottles lined up like trophies. The sink foam-green from the mixture of whatever the hell he’d been consuming. You rinsed the sink out of the mess, gathered the bottles in a garbage bag to take out—not leaving a trace.
You wiped your hands on a dish towel, chest rising and falling as the first hit of petty victory lit your veins.
Step one complete. Sabotage the routine.
Step two?
You opened the pantry. Protein powder. Pre-workout. Hydration packs. Then, you took the pre-workout and loosened the lid by half a turn. Just loose enough that, when he inevitably grabbed it in a rush, the powder would pop out in a satisfying puff—onto him, the counter, the floor.
Your phone buzzed.
angel: what’s the status, brittany snow?
You: all the bodily fluids GONEEE
pretty princess: girl PLEASE what does that even mean
You: his nasty ass shakes
pretty princess: EEEYUCK ???
angel: LMFAOOO
You smiled, pocketing your phone.
You walked into his bedroom next—the sanctum. Neat, annoyingly neat. Bed made. Shoes lined up. Posters straight. Laundry basket empty.
Perfect. You didn’t have to destroy anything. You just…shifted.
Nothing too far—just enough out of place that he’d be tearing the room apart in thirty minutes. His practice hoodie? You folded it and tucked it under the bed. His favorite beanie? Behind the headboard.
Small inconveniences. It’s all super silly, but throwing someone out of their rigid routine meant a lot more than one thought.
Then you opened his nightstand drawer and saw it.
The Polaroid of you he kept. The one from your second date. Crooked, sun-washed, you laughing with your face turned away from the camera. You simply flipped it faced down.
That was enough. He’d open the drawer and know something had shifted.
And then, for the finishing touch, you slid a sticky note onto his mirror. hi baby, did some cleaning up <3
You stepped back to survey the apartment—quiet, calm, meticulously disturbed.
A masterpiece of emotional warfare.
You dusted off your hands and whispered to yourself, almost sweetly:
Your cheek didn’t throb this time. It pulsed.
You weren’t done.
Not even close.
— Two days later
1 Missed Call from Riki
riki: baby
what happened to all my shakes and juices…?
you: can’t call, in class rn
what do you mean?
riki: sorry mama
but i got back to the crib and i saw that all of my juices were gone
did you clean?
you: yeah
i left a note, sorry idk why i didn’t just text you that i cleaned up lmao ??
You stared at the blinking cursor, tongue poking into your cheek as you imagined him standing in front of his open fridge, hands on his hips like somebody’s stressed single mother. Perfect.
riki: ok but like
all of my juices?
every single one?
you: …why does that matter?
Three dots. Then none. Then the message bubble disappeared like he was pacing around his kitchen trying to form a coherent thought with no electrolytes in his bloodstream.
riki: i’m not mad, baby
just confused
they were FULL bottles
did you throw them away??
You leaned back against the couch, laughing as you snuggled into your duvet.
you: yeah, they were old.
dates looked weird.
didn’t wanna risk expired protein diarrhea in my lover <3
Another long pause.
riki: babe those were bought THREE DAYS AGO like
t h r e e d a y s a g o
??
you: oh.
baby i’m so sorry.
There was something deeply satisfying about imagining him standing there, fridge light illuminating the disbelief on his face, probably blinking like he’d been smacked with a baguette.
riki: ok…it’s fine…it’s fine
i’ll just get more in the morning before shootaround
it’s cool
Liar. You could smell the stress through the phone.
you: you good?
you seem stressed
riki: no i’m good
i gotta go to team meetings rn
but can i call u later?
want ur voice before i sleep, or maybe u could sleepover
You stared at the message. You could almost feel the shift—like he was trying to recalibrate, shake off the unease creeping under his skin.
you: we’ll see. depends on my workload.
Saying that but you know damn well you’re going to sleepover.
riki: …ok
i love you
You typed. Erased. Typed again.
you: love you too
You locked your phone, letting it drop onto your thigh as the familiar pulse flickered through your left cheek. That tiny, electric reminder of what started all this.
—
Later that day
—
“Goodnight, mama.”
“Night, baby.” You smiled as you leaned over, pressing a kiss to Riki’s lips as he sighed into it. He ran his hand down your back as he broke the kiss to press a smooch to your cheek. “I love you forever.” He mumbled against your cheek. “You love me?”
You rolled your eyes, chest burning with anguish and resentment. But you had to keep the ruse. “Mhm,” turning your face to peck his jaw as you found he looked at you. Resting his hand on your cheek as his chocolatey eyes melted at the sight of you under the warm light.
And somehow, seeing him—seeing him look at you in this way almost entrapped you again. Made you remember who he was to you. The pop-ups with dinner, the random dates, the proud affection he gave you.
But it was just that. Because what happened? What did you do? Where did you go wrong? And how was he just able to turn it on and off that way? You saw the glint in his eyes, the way he slightly towered over his junior in the locker room as he degraded you for tens of other people to hear. As humiliating as it is, he knew you’d have to be around those same people. Greeting them, sitting courtside and cheering them on. It was almost sociopathic.
“Good. Because I love you even more.” He leaned in to peck your lips repeatedly. “Push me off or I won’t leave these lips alone.” He purred, bringing his hand to your jaw.
You smiled, returning them before you pulled back and he let you. “Go to sleep, casanova.” Riki grinned—soft, lazy, stupidly in love—like the world outside that bedroom didn’t exist. Like he hadn’t gutted you less than a week ago without even knowing he held the knife. He lay back, tugging you down with him until your foreheads brushed and his thumb stroked your cheek with that reverent tenderness reserved for saints and girlfriends. Not holes.
“Mm…I’ll sleep if you kiss me one more time,” he murmured, eyes half-lidded, voice dipped in honey. “C’mon, mama…just one.”
He was so close you could feel every breath, warm and even, laced with trust so blind it felt like a dare. You huffed a soft laugh, leaning in, letting your lips graze his—barely there, feather-light. Just enough to sell it. Just enough to keep him wrapped in the version of you he thought he owned. His lids fluttered shut like it was instinct, like your touch was the last thing he needed to sleep.
He whispered it again, softer this time. “Love you. Forever.”
The words slid under your skin like ice.
You cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the edge of his mouth as he nuzzled into your palm like a spoiled cat. You gave him your warmest smile—sweet, sleepy, harmless. “Goodnight, baby.”
He sank into the pillow with a little satisfied exhale, reaching blindly for your hand like he couldn’t fall asleep without it. His fingers threaded through yours, grip loose and trusting. Within a minute, his breathing evened out, lashes still against his cheekbones, lips parted just a little.
Peaceful. Completely unaware.
You watched him for a long moment—watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, the slow flutter of his fingers as they loosened around yours, the way his features looked almost boyish in dream-light. The version of him he let you have. The one no one else got.
The one he weaponized behind your back.
Your smile faded the second his breathing confirmed he was fully under.
You slipped your hand from his, slow and soundless. Sat up. Watched him one last time—because you needed to—then stood.
His phone glowed faintly on the nightstand, screen half-lit from a notification.
You snuck over, bare feet silent on the floor. Up close he looked smaller, somehow—all that swagger folded into the slow rise and fall of sleep. Your hand hovered for a second, then moved without drama: you pulled the cable from the phone. The charger came free with a soft click that sounded way louder in the hush than it should have. The phone screen blinked, then dimmed to black as charging stopped.
Then you quietly placed the phone on the floor between the bedside table and bed. So you could suggest that maybe just maybe, it fell while he was asleep.
There was no time for you to feel bad. No space for you to have any regard for him and his feelings.
You slipped back into your side of the bed, lifting the comforter just enough to slide under without shifting the mattress. Riki didn’t even twitch—just mumbled something incoherent and rolled slightly toward your now-empty hand, searching for it in his sleep. The kind of soft instinct that once melted you.
Now it just hardened your resolve. You settled onto your pillow, facing him. His lashes brushed his cheeks, his dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and the corners of his mouth were relaxed—none of that locker-room arrogance, none of that cruel swagger. Just a boy sleeping.
Your cheek pulsed again. You breathed out slowly, quietly. No hesitation. No guilt. If anything, a sharp, wicked satisfaction bloomed low in your chest. He’d wake up groggy, confused, panicked from oversleeping, trip over his own excuses. Miss warmups. Piss off his coach. Maybe his whole rhythm would be off for the rest of the day. And it wouldn’t be traced back to you. Cute.
You turned your head on the pillow, watching the faint glow of the digital clock on the wall.
11:23 PM.
Plenty of time before he needed to wake up.
Plenty of time for his phone—now unplugged and hidden—to drain just enough.
You shifted slightly, the bedsprings creaking faintly. Riki moved too, instinctively throwing an arm over your waist, pulling you back into him with sleepy strength. His breath warmed the back of your neck.
If someone walked in, they’d think this was love.
But you stared straight ahead, eyes open, awake and focused, your mind already sketching the next domino to tip.
—
The morning was a quiet, serene one. The sun’s grace poured through the windowpane as it painted the bedding in gold, catching on the dust motes swirling lazily in the air. The apartment was warm, still, the way it only ever was when fall-winter sunlight decided to be nice for once.
Riki shifted behind you with a soft groan, his arm tightening for a second before he blinked himself awake. You didn’t move—just breathed evenly, eyes half-closed like you’d been asleep, not wide awake planning the trajectory of his downfall. “Mmm…what time is it…?” he mumbled, voice low and raspy with sleep. One of those sounds that used to make your stomach turn to lava.
Now it curled your lip.
He reached over your waist, patting blindly along the nightstand until his hand hit nothing but wood. He frowned, still groggy, lifting his head to look. “Huh?”
Your lashes fluttered open just enough to watch him through the tiniest sliver.
He pushed himself up onto an elbow, hair sticking in every direction. “Where’s my phone…?”
You stretched slowly, selling the morning softness. “I don’t know,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes. “You tossed and turned like crazy.” He blinked, confused. “Did I?” He leaned over the edge of the bed, eyes widening slightly when he spotted the phone wedged between the table and frame—exactly where you left it.
“Oh. Damn.” He grabbed it, pressing the side button.
Nothing.
He held it down longer.
Still nothing.
“What the—” his brows furrowed. “Baby, it’s dead? It was charging.”
You sat up, pulling the blanket around your shoulders like you were just as confused as him. “Did the cable come out? You know that outlet is loose.”
Riki shoved the cord into the phone again and flipped it over—and the second he saw the blank battery symbol flash and disappear, panic lit his whole face. “Oh shit—what time is it?!” He scrambled, grabbing the digital clock on the nightstand like it held the secrets of the universe.
07:42 AM.
Workouts were at six.
Scrimmage started at seven-thirty.
His entire body went rigid. “Baby, baby—fuck, I’m late—Coach is gonna fuck me up—”
You let your expression twist into perfectly curated worry. “Oh my god, Riki—go! Hurry, go!”
He shot out of bed, nearly tripping as he yanked on sweatpants with one leg still tangled. His heartbeat practically pulsed through the apartment as he raced around, grabbing his duffel, portable charger, shoving random shirts inside, searching frantically for his warmup jacket. Scrambling through his closet, throwing shirts and pants off the rack and onto the floor. “What the fuck?! Where’s my fucking sweater?”
“What sweater, baby?” You yawned as you stood up, your socks hitting the carpeted floor.
“My purple Decelis fleece? The one—nevermind I don’t have time.” He turned back around to grab a random, black pullover. You padded into the kitchen with the blanket still around your shoulders, half-yawning, half-smirking into the fabric where he couldn’t see. Behind you, you heard the frantic gargling, toothbrush clattering into the sink, the thud of cabinet doors closing too hard.
You opened the fridge, all innocent-like, and pulled out the protein pancake mix he loved—the one he always made on game days for “optimal energy.” You set it on the counter on purpose, knowing damn well he wouldn’t have the time to use it, but the sight alone would salt the wound.
“Baby—!” Riki called through toothpaste foam, stumbling out of the bathroom, hair a wild disaster. “Have you seen my arm sleeve? The black one with the—fuck—never mind—”
He barreled past you, nearly knocking into the counter as he tore through the drawers. You stepped aside, clutching your blanket tighter, doing a very convincing impression of a sleepy, supportive girlfriend instead of the overseer of operations. The puppet master. “You want me to make you a quick smoothie?” you asked sweetly, batting your lashes like breakfast was even possible.
He huffed, chest heaving. “No—I—shit—I don’t have time.” He dropped to his knees to search under the couch. “Coach is gonna kill me. He’s literally gonna kill me.”
You peeked over the edge of the counter. “Did you check the rack by the door?”
“For what?!” His voice cracked in panic as he scrambled back to his feet.
“Your arm sleeve.”
Riki sprinted to the entryway—and there it was. Right next to his shoes. Propped neatly. Like a little gift.
“Oh my god,” he gasped, shoving it into his duffel. “I love you—I literally love you—” You smiled softly, touching your chest like his words warmed you instead of making your stomach curdle. “I know, baby. Don’t forget your protein powder.” You hugged the blanket closer to you.
He groaned, “you’re right.” He brushed past you and to the cabinet. Opening it quickly and reaching for the tub by the lid. And before he could make another step, it was like it started snowing.
With a clatter and thud, the tub hit the counter before its contents spilled all over the floor.
A cloud of chalky white billowed up like a blizzard in a snow globe someone had just punted across the room. Protein powder went everywhere—on the counter, the floor, his socks, your socks, the air itself. It was a crime scene. A lactose-based natural disaster. A winter wonderland from hell.
Riki froze mid-motion, one hand still gripping the lid, the other suspended like he wasn’t sure whether to catch the explosion or just accept defeat. His pupils blew wide with pure, uncut panic.
“…No.” He whispered it like a prayer, a curse, and an obituary all at once. “No, no, no—bro, what the fuck—”
You gasped, covering your mouth with both hands. “Oh my god!” Your hands smothered your laugh, your chest caving in nearly gave you away.
“I don’t—shit—fuck—WHY IS IT SO FULL?!” He coughed violently as the powder puffed straight into his face, coating his lashes and settling in his hair like freshly fallen frost.
You rushed forward, blanket trailing behind you like a cape of sympathy. “Oh—don’t breathe, don’t breathe—okay, wait, no—do breathe—you need oxygen—”
He spun in a frantic circle, slipping slightly on the powder-covered tile. “Coach is gonna kill me and I look like I just got baptized in whey protein! I can’t—baby, I can’t—”
“Riki,” you said softly, reaching out to brush some of the powder from his cheek. “It’s okay. Just…wipe it off. You still have time.”
“No I fucking don’t.” He grabbed the edge of the sink and leaned over it like he was about to weep. “I’m already late. I was meant to be there—” he squinted at the blinking oven clock through his snowstorm bangs, “—FIFTEEN minutes ago!”
“Don’t yell at me!” You brushed your socks off. “It’s not like I made you late for practice for the first time in—”
“Never! I’ve never been late.”
He wiped his face aggressively with a dish towel, leaving streaks that made him look like he’d been lightly dusted by a pastry chef. Powder still clung to his hoodie, his sleeves, the entire front of his body like static made of sadness.
He gave one last distressed look around the kitchen, defeated. “I—fuck—okay—no shake today—I don’t need it—I’ll eat a banana or some shit—oh my god—”
You did your best wide-eyed, supportive girlfriend impression. “You’re gonna be okay. Just go! Talking to me about it does nothing.”
Riki nodded once—shaky, determined, a man on the brink—then darted back toward the door, leaving a trail of protein footprints behind him. Before he left, he popped back in, pressed a powder-scented kiss to your forehead, and whispered:
“Love you—lock up when you leave—text you later—please pray for me. Leave the mess, I’ll clean when I get back.”
And then he was gone again, bolting down the hallway like a man fleeing a crime scene.
When the door shut, the powder finally settled.
And so did your laughter.
Pulling out your phone, you figured a group FaceTime was underway.
You wiped a tear from the corner of your eye—not from sadness, but from laughing so hard your ribs hurt. The kitchen looked like the inside of a snow globe that had been shaken by a toddler with vengeance issues. And the image of Riki sprinting out the door, looking like the Ghost of Christmas Past, would feed you for weeks.
Still snickering, you reached for your phone, thumbing open FaceTime and tapping on the group chat with Yasmin and Bella: The Holy Trinity™.
It rang twice.
And then both girls appeared on your screen in chaotic split view—Yasmin in her bonnet, mascara smudged under her eyes like she’d just woken up or cried or both, and Bella with her hair clipped back, already slurping iced coffee like it was noon instead of seven-something in the morning. “Oh my gosh,” Bella groaned, squinting at your background. “Why does it look like you’re filming from inside a cocaine factory?”
“Bro,” Yasmin choked, leaning closer to the camera. “Is that snow? Did it snow in his kitchen? Why is there…why is there powder on your tits—”
You burst into another fit of laughter, nearly dropping the phone. “Guys—guys, wait—he dropped the tub of protein that I placed.”
Bella’s jaw dropped. “No. No, don’t lie to me. Tell me he looked stupid.”
“So fucking stupid,” you said proudly. “He looked like Frosty the Snowman on creatine.” You chuckled, flipping the camera to reveal the catastrophe.
Bella screamed. Not yelled—not gasped—she let out the kind of shriek that could summon emergency services. Yasmin laughed so loud that the microphone didn’t even pick up the sound. They couldn’t see you laughing though the camera shook as you tried to get ahold of yourself. “Oh shit…this is way more fun than I thought.”
You wiped a tear from your eye as you flipped the camera back to yourself. “Guys…he said ‘please pray for me’ before running out the door. Like he was going to war. Like he was going to send me letters from the trenches or something.”
“Ooh, what else is there?”
—
As a result of the last two weeks of torment you put Riki through, you’ve been nothing but happy to see him slowly become a fragmented, mildly skittish and paranoid shell of himself.
And you didn’t even have to do anything to him. A lot of these things were self-inflicted. Whenever you approached him on campus, he would jump before you could make him aware that it was you.
When he showered, he somehow found that his shampoo was always nearly empty. Hardly enough to even lather up. And when he did have to replace it (now almost weekly), he always felt like there was a Nair-y stench to it.
The protein powder remained in the cracks of the kitchen’s wooden floor. He felt that his hair was thinning even though it clearly wasn’t. Riki also discovered that he had a fish allergy—courtesy of the fried cod you made him. The reaction was very mild, just an antihistamine and it knocked him right out. You didn’t know he had this allergy.
You’re not that crazy.
Unfortunately, the only thing that the universe—with the interference of you—couldn’t seem to shake was that fucking basketball shit.
No matter how many times you tried to curb his alarms (he set multiple and bought an alarm clock), hide stuff (he packs his bag the night before now), and secretly pray for his downfall—it just never happened. Riki’s stats still stayed the exact same. Averaging thirty points per game, seven rebounds, eight assists. He hardly called you after practice with weight on his voice.
And that was the only thing that Riki did his best to protect. Basketball was his sanctuary and as vain as it sounded: he considered himself to be a seasoned vet already. If he learned anything from playing—enduring—this sport for his whole life it was two things: don’t be a selfish player—not just in game, but in life. And leave any and all personal shit off the court.
And that if he held both of these things close to his heart and led with love, then he was going to be alright.
But he was a human being. Most importantly, he was a man. An egomaniacal, self centered man. And just like any other human being, he made mistakes and with those two values he held tightly to his chest—if he slipped then he’d feel it.
So everyday, for the last two weeks—he reflected. What exactly did he do to be so out of whack recently? He wasn’t selfish. He loves you, honors you, does everything that a boyfriend should right?
Yeah, Coach yelled at him the day he was late. But he ultimately suffered no consequences as that was his first offense. But still, despite that—he ran three laps around the arena to be fair to his teammates.
You and him haven’t argued yet. In the four months that you had been together, everything went swimmingly. Nothing that you’ve done has sincerely pissed him off. The closest thing might’ve been the day with his juices being gone. But it was an honest mistake.
But besides that, everything that he felt for you from the start remained—if anything, it only intensified. There wasn’t a moment where he didn’t want to be in your skin. To hold you and tell you how breathtaking you were. How every conversation with you felt like talking to a friend. Like he’s known you his whole life.
So what did he do? What did he do to be having such a tough time? What was he getting karma for?
—
You sat in your dorm, munching on a salad as you were working on an assignment that was ten days past due. But truthfully, it was already beyond late—you didn’t care about making it up anymore.
Your main concern was your next point of action: kill Riki Nishimura. Not like actually kill him or anything.
This was going to be your magnum opus: killing him socially. Bella and Yasmin didn’t think you could do it. More like they didn’t want you to. But you had it all mapped out. And your beloved boyfriend had no clue. Not one. He made it easy with how weird he was being. The best revenge comes from doing hardly nothing at all. Watching him feel like a stranger in his own skin brought you enough joy to last you three lifetimes.
But you were greedy.
—
The arena’s noise was thick. You could feel it in your ribs—the music from the above speakers, the chatter, the sharp whistle of sneakers on the waxed court. You sat front row, dead center. The perfect sightline. The perfect stage.
Your fingers shook—not from nerves, but from the kind of adrenaline that comes before impact. You had the note written out. Printed. Folded once. Sitting like a loaded weapon in your lap. You could feel the weight of it pressing through your jeans.
Bella had clocked it the second she saw you. Yasmin’s eyes darted to the paper, then to your face, then back again. They didn’t even need to say it out loud; the girl telepathy was loud enough to deafen. The blonde’s attention remained on you but she placed her hand on Yasmin’s arm. “What the fuck is she doing?”
“I don’t know!” The olive skinned girl shrugged as her doe eyes widened in fright. “She didn’t say anything about doing something public.”
Bella shook her head. “Oh fuck no, she’s lost her goddamn mind.” She stood, waving her arms to catch your attention. “Don’t,” she hissed, barely moving her lips.
But you were already standing.
The announcer’s voice bled into the air, “—and now, your starting five!”
You didn’t hear the cheers. Didn’t see the team running out. You only saw him. Riki, jogging onto the court, smiling easily, looking like he hadn’t spent the last two weeks unraveling.
He waved to the crowd, scanning briefly—just long enough for your eyes to catch. He froze. Blinked. His smile faltered for a second. Then returned, practiced and bright.
You unfolded the paper.
“Don’t you dare,” Yasmin whispered, gripping your arm so tightly her nails pressed crescents into your skin.
You shook her off. “He deserves this.”
Bella stood too, half-blocking you from view. “No, he doesn’t. Not like this. This is too fucking far!”
But you didn’t even hear her. The mic was right there—abandoned on the sideline after the anthem. You could take three steps and it’d be in your hand. You could read the note, the one that started with ‘Three weeks ago, starting point guard, Riki Nishimura, had degraded me—’ It’d be over for him. You’d make sure of it.
And that’s when Yasmin, bless her, full-body tackled your arm and snatched the paper clean out of your hand. “You’re done,” she hissed, shaking her head. “This isn’t justice, this is suicide.”
“What—” you started, but then Bella’s voice cut through, low and warning. “He’s looking.”
And he was.
Riki had stopped dribbling during warmups, staring right at the three of you. His brows pulled together, confusion, worry. Then he started jogging toward you, calling your name.
The crowd noise dimmed into static in your ears.
He reached the sideline, cluelessly. “What’s going on?” Tilting his head as he raised his taped hand to brush your coils off your shoulder to toy with the ‘R’ pendant on the necklace he gave you. A habit, something he did as a means of soothing both you and him. “Everything okay?”
Yasmin shook her head slightly. “This has gone entirely too far, dude.” She sniffled, dabbing her fallen tears in an effort to not ruin her makeup.
“You gotta tell him.” Bella said firmly.
Riki looked around, scanning the arena for any cameras that were on him. “What? Tell me what?” He squinted, genuinely baffled—like he was trying to fit the scene into a scoreboard in his head.
You stayed silent, your eyes fiery and skin crawling at the feeling of his touch now. Your eyes fell right to the microphone where you could do your final bidding. Eyes watering and heart heavy, you crumpled the paper in your fist as you avoided Riki’s gaze.
Bella exhaled, all impatience and exactness. “Can we do this somewhere where there aren’t cameras?” Her eyes fell on the guy before you three.
Riki’s expression hardened a little, glancing at the gigantic clock at the top of the stands. Twenty minutes til tip-off. Without another word, he nodded to the tunnel which led to the locker room. The only private area where he knew no one would be passing through. “Quickly.” He said lowly as he rubbed his forehead with a sigh. “Please.”
You stayed planted where you were, your eyes glaring a hole into his. As if lasers would beam through if you tried hard enough. Yasmin grabbed you by the bicep, “come on.” She said shakily, which in any other case would’ve weighed you down with her.
The tunnel smelled like old sweat and floor cleaner—half of the arena’s life lived in a stale chemical cloud. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, turning everyone’s skin a little too pale. The noise from the court faded to a distant roar; here it was only your voices and the scrape of sneakers against concrete. Then squeaking as you entered the empty locker room. Riki kept his jacket half off, breath shallow, eyes darting between the three of you like he was trying to memorize which way the exits led. “Talk to me.”
You stayed silent, folding your arms to your chest as if it could keep your guts from spilling out. “Hello? Did you hear him? He’s speaking to you—” Bella tapped your shoulder.
Riki interjected sharply, brows furrowed in annoyance. “Don’t fucking speak to her like that—”
“No! This shit has gone way off the rails and now she’s acting like a fucking baby. Speak up, I’m not coddling you anymore!” The girl insisted. “Because if you don’t, I will.”
“Shut the fuck up, Bella.” You snapped, “don’t try to sit here and ‘tough love’ me now when you know you’re the one that held my hand through this in the first place.” Turning to her as you jabbed her shoulder with your finger.
Bella scoffed, “But I never told you to go this far! You—”
“Why the fuck are we talking in code?! I have shit to do and y’all here playing!” Riki clapped his hands in urgency.
Yasmin blurted it out. “We heard you talking about her.” She huffed nervously.
Riki’s eyes flit to the side in confusion. “So? I talk about her and to her every single day.”
“No.” You finally interjected, turning your attention to him as you were able to take your anger out. “When you stood in here and said to Maki that I was ‘just another hole to fill’ and how not whipped you are?” You squinted your eyes as your posture straightened. “That all girls are the same and how much play you’re gonna get—” You smiled bitterly at the memory as you spoke with your hands. “And how you’re just gonna keep ‘fucking around and winning? Huh?” You nodded. “Remember that, baby?”
Riki froze. Like someone had just yanked the oxygen straight out of his lungs.
For a second, the world went completely soundless—even the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to cut out. His jaw twitched once, twice, before he let out a shaky exhale and blinked at you, eyes wide, almost boyish in disbelief.
“Wait—” he said hoarsely, “you heard that?”
You laughed, sharp and humorless. “Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t mean it. That it was just locker room talk, right?”
He ran a hand over his face, backing up until he hit the edge of a locker with a dull thud. His expression twisted — confusion, panic, then shame flickering like a glitch he couldn’t smooth out. “No, that’s not—fuck, that’s not what I meant. It was a—Maki was—”
“Maki was what, Riki?” Bella snapped. “A part of your stand-up routine? Or your echo chamber?”
“Bella, stop,” he hissed, voice cracking under strain. He turned back to you, hands slightly raised like he was pleading his case to a judge who’d already heard the verdict. “It wasn’t about you like that. It was—God, it was a joke. I was trying to sound cool, and—”
Your eyes narrowed. “Cool?” The word landed like poison.
“You think degrading me makes you cool?”
Riki’s lips parted, but no sound came out. He was crumbling in real time—his composure, that stupid practiced charm, the performative calm he always wore when things got ugly. He looked twenty different kinds of small now.
“Say it again,” you whispered, stepping closer, voice shaking not from weakness but from the sheer weight of it all. “Say it to my face this time. Say I’m just another hole to fill.”
Riki’s throat bobbed. “Don’t—”
“Say it!”
“I didn’t mean it!” he exploded, voice ricocheting off the walls. The sound of it startled even him. “I swear to God, I didn’t—” He stopped himself, chest heaving, eyes flicking to Bella, then Yasmin, before finally settling on you again. His voice dropped. “You think I’d ever mean that? About you?”
You blinked, your vision blurring with the beginnings of tears you didn’t want to shed—not here, not in front of him. “I don’t give a fuck what you meant. You deserved everything I fucking did to you and more of it!”
“What…?” His voice cracked. “Wh–what did you do?”
Yasmin spoke up. “Can I interject…?” She stepped forward from the corner to stand beside Bella, who was letting her ponytail down as she felt her head starting to throb. “Riki…we decided to—”
“No.” You kindly shut Yasmin down. “I—neither of them had any involvement in anything—decided to pay you back. I poured out your juices. Loosened your protein tub. Unplugged your phone—everything weird that’s been happening to you for the last two weeks was me fucking with you.”
Riki blinked once. Then again. Like maybe if he gave his brain enough time to reboot, it’d spit out a version of this scene that made sense.
“You—” he breathed out, the word shaky and small. “You what?” He stared at you—searching, scanning, trying to find some hint that you were joking. But your face didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Didn’t even twitch.
“Everything weird that’s been—” he stopped, eyes darting back and forth as the puzzle pieces rearranged in his head. “My shampoo, the alarms, the fucking—my protein—” His voice rose an octave, breaking off in disbelief. “The fish?!”
You blinked. “Okay, that one wasn’t on purpose. And I didn’t do anything to your shampoo.”
He laughed. But it wasn’t funny. It was breathless and sharp—half a gasp, half hysteria. “Oh my God,” he said, dragging a hand down his face. “Oh my fucking God.”
Bella winced. Yasmin quietly muttered something under her breath that sounded like a prayer.
Riki dropped his hand and looked back at you, eyes glossy—not with tears, but something worse. Something that looked like betrayal and heartbreak all twisted together. “You made me think I was losing my mind,” he said quietly. “For weeks.”
You crossed your arms, defensive now. “You made me feel worthless.”
“So you poisoned me?”
You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come.
“You unplugged my phone, you messed with my stuff, you—” he gestured wildly, like he couldn’t even pick which violation to name first. “You messed with my head, and for what? To even the score?”
“Don’t you dare make me the bad guy here,” you snapped, voice cracking on the edge of your fury. “You’re the one who said that shit about me.”
“And I said I didn’t mean it!” he fired back, stepping closer. The sound of his voice filled the entire locker room—loud, raw, desperate. “You think I’m proud of that? You think I sleep easy knowing that came out of my mouth? I’ve been trying to figure out what I did to deserve all this—turns out, you were just—” He cut himself off, choking back whatever word was about to fall next.
“Just what?” you bit.
He stared at you. His throat bobbed. “Cruel.”
The word sliced clean through the air.
You flinched, but didn’t back down. “You talk about me like I’m replaceable and you think I’m cruel?”
“You tried to ruin me!”
“Oh, please,” you wave off. “You’d still be fine. You always land on your feet.”
Riki shook his head, eyes glazed. His eyes caught the folded loose leaf in your hand, gesturing to it. “What is that?”
Without a second guess, you shoved it into his chest. Not even causing him to stumble but he snatched it. Opening it and doing his best to make it out beneath the crinkles.
And right then, was the angriest you’ve seen him up until this moment. The desperate, flabbergasted Riki that was before found new ground to stand on. His nostrils flared as he licked his bottom lip; fingers curling around the paper. “You were going to read this in front of people?”
You didn’t answer. You didn’t need to—your silence was already too loud.
Riki’s laugh was low and humorless. “You were going to humiliate me.” He said it like he was testing the words out loud, like saying them would somehow make them less insane. “In front of my team? My coach? The entire nation, are you fucking crazy?”
“I was going to tell the truth,” you shot back, eyes glinting. “That’s all it was. The truth.”
“The truth?” He took a step closer, paper trembling in his fist. “No, no—you wanted revenge. You wanted blood, not closure.”
You rolled your eyes, though your pulse was slamming in your throat. “Don’t get poetic now, Riki. You said what you said.”
“And I told you I didn’t mean it! How many times do I have to—” He held up the note like evidence in court. “This—this is you trying to destroy me because you’re hurt. You were really going to try to ruin my life’s work and career over this when you could’ve just fucking talked to me?! Or even dumped me?”
“Maybe you should’ve thought about that before you called me just another hole to fill.”
He went still. The sound of sneakers squeaking from the court outside was a faint, haunting rhythm beneath the tension between you.
Riki lowered his head, voice dropping to something barely human. “You really hate me that much, huh?”
“I don’t hate you,” you said coldly. “I just wanted you to feel small for once.”
He let out a breathless, bitter laugh. “Congratulations. You did it.” He held up the crumpled paper like it was a white flag—like you’d already won the war you started. “You’ve made me feel smaller than I ever have in my entire life.”
You swallowed, your anger flickering like a dying candle. “Good.”
Riki stared at you for a long, long moment—jaw tight, eyes glassy, chest rising with restrained fury and heartbreak. Then, quietly, he tore the note in half. Once, twice, until the pieces fluttered from his hands like ash. “Hope it was worth it,” he muttered, voice shaking. And when he walked past you toward the locker room exit, he didn’t look back.
The girls followed in his direction with shaking of their heads. But were interrupted by your voice. “Where are you guys going?”
They stopped, turning around. Yasmin’s eyes sparkled from the overhead lighting as tears misted her eyes. “We also have shit to do.”
You threw your hands up, “oh so now I’m the bad guy?” You laughed humorlessly, “you guys—”
“We didn’t tell you to do anything!” Bella waved her finger. “Yas was against this from the beginning. I said I was just gonna support you. We support each other! Right, wrong, or indifferent. But I didn’t think you would lose yourself like this?” She gestured to your frame. “I mean who even are you anymore?”
“I’m me. I’m still me, guys—” You stepped forward with your voice shaking. Smile vanished as you swallowed what seemed to be a knot of nervousness. “C’mon…don’t turn your backs on me too…”
Yasmin sniffled, “if we did then we wouldn’t have saved you just now. This isn’t my best friend,” Yasmin whispered, shaking her head. Her voice cracked mid-sentence, soft but sharp enough to land. “My best friend doesn’t do shit like this.”
You froze. “Yas—”
“No,” she said, stepping back a little. Rubbing her temples as frustrated tears streaking down her cheeks. “You’re not even listening to yourself anymore.”
Bella exhaled, crossing her arms. “You became the thing you swore you hated. You’re standing here, trying to justify ruining someone’s life just because he bruised your ego. That’s not love. That’s obsession.”
Your throat closed up. “You think I wanted to turn into this?”
Bella didn’t answer right away—she just blinked at you, disappointed. “No. I think you got hurt and didn’t know where to put it. But you don’t get to burn down someone else’s peace to feel better about your pain.”
The silence that followed was unbearable. Only the muffled sound of the crowd bleeding in from the court—cheers, drums, whistles—made the moment real again.
Yasmin took a shaky breath, voice quiet. “You can still fix this. Maybe not with him, but with yourself.”
You stared at them, every word hitting like shrapnel, and for the first time since the whole spiral began—you didn’t have anything to say. The weight of what you’d done, what almost happened, started to settle in your stomach like lead.
Bella grabbed Yasmin’s hand. “We’re going to go. You should go get some rest.” You watched them walk away through the tunnel lights, the sound of the game roaring back to life behind them. You stood there, still holding the blanket of your own rage and regret—realizing it was never warmth at all. And the walk back to your dorm was a cold one.
—
For three days, you disappeared. The campus kept spinning without you—the chatter of students, the clatter of cafeteria trays, the hum of a world that refused to pause—but your room stayed still. Curtains drawn, phone facedown, mind circling the same moment over and over until it felt like static. The guilt wasn’t sharp anymore; it was heavy, dragging. Every notification with his name felt like another bruise you didn’t remember getting.
Bella and Yasmin tried to reach you—knocks at the door, texts, calls—but nothing stuck. Riki was radio silent; as expected. On the fourth day, you sat up and climbed off your creaky twin XL.
You walked up to your desk and removed the pillowcase covering it and for the first time in days, you were able to stomach looking at yourself. Your reflection in the dark monitor felt like a stranger. Eyes swollen, lips cracked from lack of hydration, skin dry and textured. And immediately you put your head down. Holding your stomach as you wept into yourself. It came out of you like a flood you’d been holding back too long—all the anger, the shame, the grief. You tried to breathe, but it only made the sobs louder.
You pressed a hand to your mouth as if you could stuff it all back down, but it was useless. You cried until your ribs hurt, until your knees gave out and you sank onto the floor, arms wrapped around yourself like you were the only thing keeping from coming undone completely. “Oh God—” You held your chest as you heaved. “What have I done?”
—
By the fifth day, the silence became unbearable. You couldn’t stand the sound of your own thoughts anymore—the echoes of Riki’s voice, the look on Bella’s face, the way Yasmin’s eyes had glistened before she walked away. So for the first time in almost a week, you took positive first steps.
You showered, scrubbing yourself to the point where you swore your skin was about to peel off. Brush your teeth, following your meticulous oral care routine. And you put on lotion, perfume, did your hair and finally…you felt you were halfway worth looking at again.
—
The campus air touched differently after a self-imposed exile—too bright, too loud, like the world had the audacity to move on. You found Bella and Yasmin outside on the quad, sprawled on the grass with open laptops and snacks, their laughter cutting short the second they saw you.
“Hey,” you said softly, voice half-stuck in your throat.
Bella shut her laptop, sitting up. Yasmin didn’t say anything yet—just watched you with that mix of worry and quiet anger that made you feel twelve years old again.
“I know,” you started, rubbing the back of your neck. “I was a dick. To both of you. And you didn’t deserve that.” You looked between them, heart pounding. “You were just trying to look out for me, and I…I took it way too far. I wanted to hurt him so bad that I forgot who I was. And who you guys were to me. I’m sorry. But I just wanted to say thank you for gathering me before I inevitably got worse.”
Neither spoke for a beat. Then Bella sighed, resting her chin on her knee. “Yeah, you were a dick,” she said flatly, but there was the ghost of a smile there.
Yasmin exhaled, eyes softening. “We were worried sick. You don’t just vanish like that, dude. We thought you—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “Like at least an ‘I’m okay’ text would’ve been enough. Just…” She sighed, “don’t do that again.”
You nodded quickly, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “I won’t. I swear.”
Bella patted the spot beside her. “Good. Then sit your dramatic ass down and eat something. We made sandwiches.”
Tears finally came down as you smiled. Sitting down between them as you hugged them to you. Both their heads on your shoulders as they squeezed you. “Are you guys still mad at me?”
“Oh definitely,” Yasmin smiled as she nuzzled your shoulder. “You have some serious making up to do.” Huffing as she leaned up and let go.
You looked down at the blanket and your crossed legs, “Can I start by saying you were right and that you owe me an ‘I told you so?’” To which that elicited laughs from both girls on either side of you.
“Forgiven!” Yasmin giggled as she clapped her hands excitedly. Like she wasn’t twenty but a little kid. And as you sat between them, the tension eased, the world didn’t feel quite as tilted anymore.
—
You were mid-laugh when it happened—Bella had just said something snarky about the “post-breakdown glow” you apparently had going on. And for a moment, things felt easy again. Like it always had with these two. The three of you were walking up the stone path toward the dining hall, the smell of pizza and fryer oil already drifting through the air, when a familiar voice froze you in your tracks.
“Hey!” He was coming down the opposite side of the path, still in his team jacket, backpack slung over his shoulders, hair a little messy like he’d just showered. His teammates had already gone ahead, but he stopped the moment he saw you.
Bella glanced between you two and sighed under her breath. “Well, this is awkward.”
“Yep,” Yasmin muttered. “Definitely our cue.”
They shared a look before Bella patted your arm. “We’ll, uh…grab our table. Take your time.”
And just like that, they slipped inside the dining hall, leaving you and Riki alone under the faint hum of campus noise.
For a second, neither of you spoke. You just stared at him, at how tired he looked—eyes a little red, hands balled up as he adjusted his sleeves.
“You look alive,” he said finally, a small half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Barely,” you replied, managing a smirk. “You?”
He shrugged. “Playing like I’m mad at the whole planet, but we’re winning, so…guess that counts for something.”
You nodded slowly, eyes dropping to the ground. “Riki, I—”
He shook his head before you could continue. “Don’t. It’s done.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I’m not mad anymore. I mean, I was. But now…I get it.”
You searched his face for bitterness and found none—just exhaustion, and something softer hiding under it. “It’s not an excuse.” Shaking your head, you pulled your hoodie sleeves over your hands as you balled your fists. “You hurt me and instead of being a good, mature girlfriend…I went to the extreme. I’m so sorry, Riki.”
“I deserved it, mama.” He stepped closer, whispering as he reached his hands up to frame your face—not touch it. “What I said was inexcusable. Absolutely repulsive and inappropriate and no one should speak about a person—especially their girlfriend—like that. I’m sorry too.”
“I guess neither of us are perfect.” You sighed, as you gently brought his hands back down. The radiating warmth leaving your cheeks and replacing it with the evening chill.
His mouth curved, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, I think we both kinda nuked the moral high ground.”
A weak laugh slipped out of you. “That’s one way to put it.”
For a moment, it was quiet—just the wind cutting through the trees and the sound of students laughing somewhere across the quad. You stared at the space between your sneakers, the weight of everything that happened hanging between you.
“I don’t hate you, you know,” you said softly. “Even after all that.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Good. ‘Cause I couldn’t even if I tried.”
That made you look up. His gaze was steady, not pleading, just…honest. The kind of look that made your stomach twist in ways you didn’t want to name yet.
“Did you mean any of it? Like when you said you loved me?” His eyes searched yours, “I’m sorry, it’s just been driving me crazy and I need to know.” The look in his eyes was layered in desperation and heartbreak. Only half of what you encountered in the locker room that day. “Please. For my own sanity—”
“I did.” You sniffled, dabbing your eyes with your sleeve to prevent tears from coming out. “It…”
Riki pulled you to a small bench, tucked away from possible prying eyes as this was becoming an intimate moment. The first one in what seemed like forever. He wiped the bench with his hands, getting any debris—branches, dirt, cigarette ashes—off and away.
“It was that I loved you so much that I did what I did.” You sat down as he did beside you. “When I heard you saying those things about me, it…it just—a switch just flipped in my brain. Like…everything that I thought about you beforehand was just confirmed. That my parents were right…”
Riki’s eyes widened a bit, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach as he gulped. “You—your parents?”
You nodded, “they always said not to date athletes. That they’d either cheat, lie, or dog you. Maybe all three.” Fiddling with your manicured nails, clicking them slightly. “In a way, me getting revenge just felt like I was doing every single person that was wronged by every athlete, right. But I got greedy. Selfish. And really, I could’ve just spoken to you about it.”
Riki leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the ground like it might offer him a manual on how to handle this conversation. “I wish you did,” he said quietly. “I would’ve told you the truth. That I was talking out of my ass, trying to look tough in front of the guys because I was scared of how much I actually loved you. I mean I’ve never felt like this before, y’know?”
You let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s not an excuse.”
“I know,” he said, glancing at you. “But it’s the truth. I said those things because I thought if I made it sound like I didn’t care, then they’d just get off my dick about it. In actuality, I was never thinking about sex with you.”
You shot him a look.
He smiled, “okay, I was.” Laughing as you did, but he leaned up. “But it wasn’t at the front of my mind. I didn’t lead every interaction with you with the expectation that you’d let me have any.”
The words hung between you like fog, dense and heavy. You looked up at him then, and the sharpness you’d carried for weeks softened. He looked older somehow. Not in a bad way—just like he’d been through something real. “But even with the four months that we were together, I didn’t even want to bring it up because I didn’t want to scare you.”
“The idea of sex with you didn’t scare me, Riki. But the fact that when I thought I could trust you to keep certain things of our relationship private, you fell through. And disrespected me at that.” You went on. “Because how did Maki even know that we hadn’t done anything? Were these things regular conversations and I just happened to catch one?”
Riki’s jaw tightened, his knee bouncing slightly. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that. I swear, I didn’t go around talking about our business. Maki was being an asshole that day, asking questions, making jokes and assumptions, and I—” He paused, running a hand over his face like he could erase what came next. “I took the bait. I wanted to sound cool. Like I wasn’t some lovesick loser.”
You stared at him, the memory of that locker room replaying in your mind like a cruel film reel. “So you threw me under the bus to impress him?”
His eyes flicked up to meet yours, guilt written across every line of his face. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “And the second it left my mouth, I wanted to take it back. It was just talk. It was just…I don’t know.”
You looked away, lips pressing together. The bench between you suddenly felt like a chasm. “I really thought you were different, Riki,” you said softly. “You made me believe it.”
He winced like the words cut him. “I am different. Or at least I was trying to be. I just—” He exhaled, frustrated with himself. “I didn’t think about how much weight my words had. I didn’t think about how much they’d hurt you if you heard them. I was trying to protect my ego instead of the one person I actually gave a shit about.”
The silence after that was long and brittle. You could hear students laughing in the distance, the scrape of skateboard wheels against pavement. Ordinary sounds in a world that felt anything but ordinary right now. And it only left one question: “So what now?”
Riki shook his head firmly, turning to you. “Look I love you. Still—”
You sighed, closing your eyes in distress but he insisted. “No, no, no. Just listen to me.” He hesitantly reached for your hands. “I know we both have work to do. But I don’t want anybody else. And I mean that. You’re everything to me and even after the bullshit and what you were going to do…I still look at you the same.”
You stared at him, the ache in your chest twisting into something you couldn’t name. “You shouldn’t,” you said softly. “You should look at me differently.”
He shook his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “I can’t. I’ve tried.”
You wanted to laugh, or scream, or both. Instead, you just looked down at your intertwined hands—his fingers trembling slightly against yours. “Please don’t romanticize it, Riki. That was the ugliest I’ve seen myself in…ever. And I don’t know if I wanna be with someone that brings that out of me.”
“But I do,” he smiled softly. “I want to be with someone that drives me crazy. That makes me feel every possible human emotion and that person was you.” He brought your hands to his lips to kiss them, like he always used to. “This is going to be what you want at the end of the day. But I won’t stop fighting for you. When I said I loved you forever, I meant it. As a friend, a lover. Anything. I just wanna be in your life.”
For a split second, you could almost feel your heart stop. The rawest you’d ever seen Riki was in this moment—before you—as he practically begged to be in your world. A person who’s so used to the inverse. And he didn’t stop.
“Since the day I saw you, I’ve not been able to get you off my mind. And I don’t wanna forget that feeling. Call me obsessed, desperate. But even then, I don’t care,” he finished, voice breaking slightly. “Because I’d rather be desperate for you than indifferent to anyone else.”
You swallowed hard, blinking fast. His eyes were glassy now, full of something that looked too much like the boy you fell for—reckless, sincere, and way too intense for his own good. “Riki…”
“I know,” he said, shaking his head quickly, cutting you off before you could form the words. “You don’t have to say it. I just needed you to know. Even if you never look at me the same again, even if you find someone who actually deserves you—I needed to say it out loud once.”
You felt the world slow down around you, the hum of the dining hall muffling into static. His confession sat between you, too heavy to move around and too fragile to touch. “I think…I think it’s best that we be friends. For now…” He nodded immediately, “anything you want—wait, you said for now?” He tried to hide the way his lips curved, but failed.
You rolled your eyes, exhaling a shaky laugh. “Don’t push it.” And then, almost without thinking, you scooted forward. He met you halfway, arms slipping around your waist like muscle memory. You pressed your face into his shoulder, breathing him in—the faint trace of detergent, cologne, and something you couldn’t name but still remembered.
It wasn’t a reconciliation. It wasn’t a promise. It was just…quiet understanding. He melted into your arms, remembering the warmth he once felt there as it hadn’t ever gone away. Rubbing your back as the both of you fell into the comfort of each other again. “I won’t…I promise.” He said softly as he sniffled.
You felt his breath hitch against your neck, the sound muffled but raw. His arms tightened just a little, like he was afraid that if he let go too soon, the moment would vanish. You rubbed slow circles into his back, grounding him, grounding yourself.
“I know,” you murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to.”
He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes red but steady. “I just don’t ever want you to think I didn’t care,” he said quietly. “Not for a single second.”
You smiled faintly, brushing your thumb over the corner of his hand where it still held onto you. “I never did,” you admitted. “But time will tell.”
For a moment, neither of you moved—just stayed there, breathing the same air, hearts syncing in that familiar rhythm you both tried so hard to forget. And when you finally stepped apart, it wasn’t out of anger or regret. It was because you both knew what this was.
Something that wasn’t over. Just paused.
— epilogue!
The semester was coming to an end and things were looking up! Spring was underway, you traded in your hoodies for tube tops and life wasn’t as hard as it was a month ago. Bella and Yasmin are the same: reliable, solid, harassing—typical. As for Riki…
You and him had stayed true to the “friends for now” thing…with a few cracks around the edges. You were doing pretty well with the whole “platonic equilibrium” mindset. Riki, though…was doing his best, which—coming from him—meant trying really hard not to accidentally flirt every five minutes.
There was always a soft awkwardness in the air whenever he was near, a kind of gentle hesitation that felt new. Like he was relearning how to exist around you without crossing lines he used to dive over headfirst.
Whenever you ran into him around campus, he’d light up—just a little, almost like he wished he didn’t. He’d start to reach for your hand out of habit, stopping mid-motion with a small, embarrassed laugh. Sometimes he’d call you “baby” without thinking, freeze like he’d just triggered a bomb, and mumble a panicked “sorry.” It was…cute. Annoyingly cute.
But here’s the thing—he didn’t push. Not once. He didn’t corner you, didn’t force conversations, didn’t try to speedrun your healing. He gave you space without disappearing, presence without pressure. It was the most mature thing you’d ever seen him do, and honestly? Kinda hotter than when he was your actual boyfriend.
Slowly, the tension stopped feeling sharp and started feeling warm. The kind you notice on slow walks across campus or when you catch him staring from across a study lounge. The kind that makes your stomach dip but not in a painful way anymore.
He was still your Riki—loud, unserious, overwhelmingly athletic, always carrying a million and one snacks in his bag. But this version of him was steadier. Softer. Careful with you in ways he never had to think about before.
Spring was blooming, and so were you. And somewhere in the mess of new beginnings, slow healing, and accidental almost-romantic moments…you could feel it.
You and Riki weren’t done. Not even close.
riki: hey girlieee
you: hi riki lmao
riki: rq, what are ur thoughts on selena gomez?
you: random?? LMAOO ???
but 10/10 no notes. she’s mother.
omg i love her blushes too
riki: she sells makeup??
you: yeah…everyone knows that
riki: literally why would i know that
but thanks, noted.
you: why tho? what happened?
riki: <3
you: …?
that’s not an answer…?
riki: <33
you: ok
Riki left you on read after that last “ok,” which was suspicious behavior for him. Usually he double-texted entirely too often. But whatever—maybe he was in the gym…benching a car or some shit.
Two weeks rolled by in this weird limbo where he acted normal but also not normal. A week ago he’d shown up outside your lecture hall just to hand you a juice box because, quote, “You always look dehydrated after class.” Three days ago, he’d pretended to trip just so you’d laugh. Yesterday he’d sat next to you in the library, headphones in, sharing a pack of gummies and tapping your knee every time he thought of something funny.
And you didn’t miss the shift in him—this boy was planning something. You could practically hear the cartoon gears grinding in that brain of his.
Then Friday came. A warm, breezy, stupidly pretty spring evening. You were chilling in your dorm, headphones in one ear as you reviewed for your microeconomics final. And that’s when you heard it.
“It’s been said and done…Every beautiful thought’s been already sung…”
And comedically, your head popped up. Brows furrowed as you turned your head to get a grip on the muffled, crackled noise coming from the outside. But you just figured it was the student union having one of their last hurrah’s before the year was finished and y’all were right back in three months.
“And I guess right now, here’s another one…So your melody will play on and on…With the rest of them…”
Your phone buzzed.
pretty princess: girl look tf out ur window rn.
You blinked at the notification, confusion already tugging at your face. Yasmin never texted like that unless something was either (A) horrifying or (B) gobsmacking. There was never an in-between with her. You shoved your chair back, nearly tripping over your backpack as you crossed the room. You pulled the blinds open—
And your stomach dropped to your ass.
Because there he was.
Riki. On the quad. Holding an actual boombox over his head like he was auditioning for an eighties rom-com.
The thing was massive, probably older than both of you, and blasting Selena Gomez’s “Love You Like a Love Song” at a volume that was definitely violating at least six campus rules. Students were recording him but he didn’t care. He spotted you instantly.
That stupid, boyish, heart-squeezing grin lit up his whole face the second your eyes met. He lifted the boombox even higher—like his arms weren’t already shaking—and he yelled up at your window: “HI!”
Just “hi.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth, partially to smother your gasp and partially to keep from laughing out loud like someone who lost any and all gumption. Heat crawled up your neck. “No he didn’t,” you whispered.
Oh, but he did. And he wasn’t stopping.
People started chanting his name—half because they loved drama and half because the acoustics were terrible and the song was starting to echo off the buildings like some kind of chaotic love anthem.
You opened the window. “RIKI!”
He perked up like a golden retriever hearing treats shake. “YEAH?”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!”
“I’M—” He paused, laughing. “I’M TRYING TO BE ROMANTIC BUT THIS THING IS REALLY HEAVY! AND LOUD!”
You nearly melted on the spot. Your brain was soup. Your heart? Gone.
He lowered the boombox slightly—possibly because his arms were probably about to give out—and yelled, “COME DOWN! PLEASE! I DON’T WANNA DROP THIS AND DIE. THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING.” He wasn’t struggling, his arms weren’t trembling. He wasn’t out of breath.
You squinted down at him, realization hitting you like a brick made of pure annoyance and affection. “Riki…are you faking struggling right now?”
He flashed you a guilty little half-smile, shrugging with one shoulder while still holding the boombox like it weighed absolutely nothing. “Uh…maybe. For dramatic effect. Gotta sell the moment, y’know?”
You groaned into your hands. “Oh my god.”
He adjusted his grip again—effortless, casual, absolutely not dying as previously advertised—and yelled, “C’MON! DON’T MAKE ME LOOK STUPID IN FRONT OF LIKE—” he glanced around, “—WAY TOO MANY PEOPLE!”
You rolled your eyes so hard you saw last semester. But you threw on your hoodie, shoved your feet into whatever shoes were closest, and bolted for the stairs.
By the time you reached the quad, people were still filming, still chanting his name, still acting like they were witnessing a Hallmark movie. Riki stood there proudly, boombox now resting against his shoulder as the chorus blasted:
“I-I-I love you like a love song, baby…”
He grinned the second he saw you and the crowd dissipated as they saw him put the boombox down to the grass and lower the music. “Hi…”
“Hi?” You laughed as you reached him. “What in the world is this?” You gestured to the boombox now at your feet.
“A…boombox—”
“I know what a boombox is, Riki!” You hold your hands up. “I mean…why?” You said softly.
He sighed. “Okay, look. I know you’ve said sorry before. And I did too. But I was saying it like…someone who wanted to fix a scratch, not someone that had the capability of ruining an entire relationship with words.” He frowned slightly as he reached out for your hands. Inhaling before he mustered up the courage to grasp them. “You don’t make it easy for me. You don’t worship me. You don’t pretend I’m a big deal. You roll your eyes and tell me when I’m being a dick—and that’s the first time in a long time I’ve actually had to listen.” He went on.
“When we stopped talking, I still couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you liked me for half a second, I didn’t know what to do with it. When you loved me…I felt like I was caught with my pants down.” The breeze blew at his dark locks, brushing his silky hair just right as the perfectly timed sunset kissed his tan skin.
“You said once that you don’t understand why people lose their minds over athletes. I get it now. I’m the guy who people cheer for and I still don’t get it either. But when you look at me, it’s not because I made a basket—it’s because you actually see me. And I don’t want to lose that. And…” He huffed, eyes brimming with tears. “I’ve gone these last few months with an attempt to change everything about myself. But the one thing that I couldn’t seem to shake is that I really am selfish. Only when it comes to you.” He shakes his head as his lips quivered. “I love you, I kiss the ground you walk on and I can’t shake that. I just wanna be around you. All the time and it eats at me every waking moment that I fucked this up. That the idea of you being with someone else makes me irrationally angry. Seeing another guy even look your way makes me—and I’m so sorry. It’s so unfair.”
You felt something in your chest pull tight—like every word he spoke tugged a different thread you’d been trying so hard to knot back together. “Riki…” you whispered, but he wasn’t done. He stepped closer, eyes shining in that way that always made you feel like you were standing on the edge of something huge.
“I know it’s not healthy. I know I shouldn’t think like that,” he said, voice cracking as he blinked fast. “But I can’t help it. I’ve tried to get over you. I’ve tried to be chill, to be normal, to be the guy who just ‘moves on.’ I can’t. I can’t pretend I don’t still look for you every time I walk across campus or step into the dining hall or hear your stupid laugh echo in my apartment when I look back at old videos of us.”
You let out a quiet breath—a little shaky, a little overwhelmed.
“And I know it sucks,” he added, softer now. “I know it’s messy. I know it’s not fair to you. But I’m standing here, blasting Selena Gomez like a psychopath, because I needed you to know that I love you in a way that makes me spend two hundred dollars on boomboxes. Getting scammed for old CDs online to look for them to put in the boombox.” He smiled, laughing softly. “And spending almost four hundred dollars on makeup because I couldn’t figure out which one you liked so I bought them all!” He bent down to open his backpack to pull out a black and white striped Sephora bag to hand it to you.
Filled to the brim, all thirteen blushes. Simply because you mentioned liking it once.
You stared at the bag. Then at him. Then back at the bag—because there was no way. No way.
“Riki…” Your voice cracked.
He held both hands up like he was surrendering to the police. “I know. I know. It’s crazy. Please—”
You almost laughed. Almost. Riki rolled his eyes but stayed locked on you—smiling regretfully. “I’m not saying any of this to make you feel guilty. I’m saying it because I’m tired of pretending I don’t care when I care so much it makes me do…this.” He gestured around helplessly, as if the chaos wasn’t literally his own fault. “I’m a mess.”
You swallowed. Hard. “Why now?”
“Because,” he said, stepping closer to the dorm entrance, “I realized something that night in the locker room.”
Your breath hitched.
“That I would rather embarrass myself in front of everyone. Teammates, coaches, sports analysts, scouts—than let you think you weren’t worth fighting for. And you can nuke my protein and rig my alarms—”
You cut him off with a kiss. For half a second, he froze—eyes wide, breath caught somewhere between oh my god and ‘no way no way no way.’
Then he melted. Like actually melted. His shoulders dropped, his hands hovered in the air like he was terrified to touch you, and then very, very gently, they settled on your waist as you dropped the bag. Letting it thud into the grass.
He kissed you back like he’d been holding his breath for months and finally got oxygen. Pulling you into him as he gently cradled your head, tilting his own to deepen the kiss. You felt his breath hitch against your mouth, the kind that said finally with every exhale. His fingers threaded into your hair like he’d been memorizing the motion in his head for weeks, rehearsing it in private like some lovesick maniac.
He kissed you again—slower this time, deeper, like he wanted to make sure you understood exactly how long he’d been waiting for this. His thumb swept the hinge of your jaw, gentle, reverent, like he was scared you’d disappear if he touched too roughly.
You pulled back just an inch, just enough to breathe, and he chased you a little—just a tiny lean forward, like he hadn’t meant to lose contact.
His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing too hard for a kiss that lasted maybe ten seconds.
“Holy shit,” he whispered. He cupped your cheek, brushing your skin with the back of his fingers like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I’m so in love with you,” he said—quiet, shaky, honest in a way that punched you right in the throat.
Your heart stuttered. “I love you too, Riki.” Leaning in to hug him tightly, wrapping your arms around his neck.
“Oh…” He exhaled in relief as he picked you up and spun you around. “I missed you, baby. Oh I missed my baby so much!”
Your laugh broke against his shoulder, breathless and warm, and he clutched you like he was afraid gravity might snatch you away again. His hands slid under your thighs automatically, lifting you like you weighed nothing, and he buried his face into the crook of your neck with this completely unhinged, lovesick groan. “I missed you so much,” he repeated, voice muffled against your skin. “You have no idea—oh my god. I’m actually gonna pass out. I’m dizzy. Is this normal? Am I dying?”
You snorted. “Put me down, idiot.”
“No,” he said immediately, hugging you even tighter, rocking you side to side like a toddler with their favorite plush. “Absolutely not. You said you love me. That means you’re legally my emotional support human now.”
“Riki…”
“Shh,” he whispered dramatically, pressing an overly loud kiss to your cheek. “Let me have this.” Riki didn’t care. Zero shame. Negative shame even. He finally set you down but kept your waist locked in his hands like he didn’t trust reality to keep you there. He leaned back to look at you properly—eyes bright, hair messy from the wind, chest rising like he’d sprinted here from three counties over. “You love me,” he whispered again, like he was tasting the words, like they were cotton candy on his tongue. “Say it one more time.”
You raised a brow. “Riki—”
“Please,” he said, already smiling like he knew he was ridiculous and didn’t care. “Just one more. I need to hear it clearly, I’ve been hearing nothing but this fucked up speaker for the last hour.”
Your cheeks warmed as you whispered, “I love you, Riki.”
He shut his eyes like the words physically hit him. Head back, hand over his heart, dramatic and sincere at the same time. “Oh yeah,” he breathed. “That’s it. I feel like I just did ten lines. I’m never messing this up again.” Then, with a soft grin creeping up his face, he added: “Now c’mon, baby. Let’s go turn off my damn boombox before I get fined again.”
You bent down to grab your Sephora bag and his backpack. Him with the boombox as he went two tracks over to put on ‘Who Says.’ You both laughed as you sang, “I wouldn’t wanna be anybody else!”
He twirled you with his hand as you both walked into the direction of his apartment. “You know my favorite Selena song is ‘Naturally.’ For future reference.”
Riki laughed as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder, bringing you close to him. “I’ll add that to the wedding playlist.”
dededos
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
kaledo-art
snowghoul
turnnoffyourmind
